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.

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

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

My dancing heart has danced itself apart and I was wrong, of course I was wrong, I am always wrong, everything is always wrong.

I’m his. It’s such a relief to be someone’s, to not have to be my own.

I can’t figure out whether the idea of seeing James or never seeing him again hurts more. I don’t want to talk to him until I can decide. We walked the path together, but he almost took me so far down it I would have fallen off the edge. Not even he could have caught me then.

His eyes search mine, more serious than his tone would indicate, and I know he’s looking to see whether or not I’m falling apart. He doesn’t need to.

We are both of us made of the things we have lost.

I’m your big sister. I don’t have to see anything to know James is always something bad.” Fia snorts. “You wouldn’t think so if you could look at him.