I should curl up in a ball and cry. Instead i think about everything in the whole entire world that makes me angry - There is a lot, oh, there is a lot - and I start singing Justin Bieber at the top of my lungs.

Clinical, brilliantly medical-minded Adam believes in fate. A fate with Fia.

I lie constantly. All the time. I’m nothing but one big mass of lies.

It’s a lie, but it’s the lie he needs. I’m going to hell.

I chose him. If I chose him, he had to be the right choice. I wouldn’t love him if it weren’t right.

James is all I have. I chose James. He has to be right. Please let him be right.

Silly. Dark isn’t scary. Dark is safe.”“Why?” “I live in the dark all the time. But when it’s dark outside everyone has to be there, too. And if you can’t see someone, they can’t see you, either.” She sniffles a few times. “So, it’s like I’m hiding in the dark?”“Yes. You’re the secret when it’s dark. Dark is safe.

I’m still afraid to sleep—too many ghosts peering creeping condemning.

Probably you should stay out of my head. It’s not a friendly place.

Everyone here is insane. I am the insanest of the insane.

Cole gets up and then says, “Adam. Five texts. I can read them to you.” He pauses. “Unless they’re personal.” I roll my eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m pretty sure he’s desperately in love with my sister.” Cole snorts. “He’s crazy.” “He’d have to be, right?

I have to trust that, or I’ll lose my mind. Well, lose it more.

Crazy must run in your family,” he says.“You do know Fia!” I blurt, then bite my lip.

You’re crazy,” he hisses. “Too true.

I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.

I am so filled with wrong I don’t remember what right is.

I wash myself clean of guilt, of pain, of fear, of emotion. I am the ocean. I am empty. I am nothing.

I don’t want to think about things like normal and safe, things I can’t have.

I am a girl in want of complete destruction.

My bed is massive (I drown in it, and it doesn’t matter how big the bed is, my nightmares more than fill it)

I think happy thoughts and feel happy things and I do not let myself near the swirling black edges of the hole that is my soul when I look at them.

Pretending is another way of lying, and I am so good at both.