I think under the right set of circumstances,” Mason said, carefully, his eyes not leaving mine, “pretty much anyone is capable of horrific behavior.

A man doesn’t have to be evil in order to sexually assault women,” Vanessa said. “Most rapists don’t look like what we’re programmed to believe they should – they’re not greasy-haired monsters who jump out from behind the bushes and tie up their victims in their basements. More often, they’re someone’s typical father, husband, brother, or son – but what they do to women is monstrous.

I felt numb, I felt empty. I was a shell, an abandoned chrysalis, a tomb lying in wait for the dead.

Our society always seems to blame the victim not the perpetrator, for a sexual crime. It says a woman shouldn’t dress provocatively or drink alcohol or have any kind of flirtation or interaction with a man because that means she is asking for him to do whatever he wants to do to her, even after she tells him no.

Holding on to resentments is like drinking poison and hoping the other person will die.

being a good mother does not mean being perfect every single moment. we screw up. we get mad, we drink too much, eat too much, yell too much. a good mother learns from her mistakes and does what she can to not let them happen over and over.

Maybe he was too drunk to hear me when I told him to stop. Maybe I didn’t say it loudly enough. Maybe I didn’t say it enough times.

No, I thought. No way. I love her too much. I would never do that. And then again, those two words, her voice, exploding inside my head: “Tyler, wait!

I want to rewind the clock, take back the night when the world shattered. I want to erase everything that went wrong.

I felt numb, I felt empty. I was a shell, an abandoned chrysalis, a tomb lying in wait for the dead