Guilt was acid in our veins. It corroded everything. Our heart. Our lungs. Our throat.

At least when things are messy, it means they aren’t sure. And that means they might change.

Hope could be painful, too. Hope could be dangerous, if it grew too large and then shattered.

The stars looked like a map of possibilites above us.

We all react to hell differently.

I can’t breathe alone.

We’d been born with our souls’ fingers interlocked. What if we’d never let go?

Our lives are all stories, in the end.

Bringing happy memories into an awful place didn’t make the memories any dimmer. The memories made the surroundings brighter.

Addie was warm and radiant next to me, making up half of us. But I – I was Eva, Eva, Eva, all the way through.