Vianne knelt down beside Sarah, she felt for a pulse and found none. The silence turned sour, thick; all Vianne could think about was the sound of this child's laughter and how empty the world would be without it.

She had tried to be loved by him; more important, she had tried to keep loving him, but in the end, one was impossible as the other.

Some lives are not ours to hold on to; God makes His choices without us.

I am like some wounded animal in a darkened lair, nursing the thorn in my paw, unable to find anyone to take it out.