Embee

“Aren’t there different electrical outlets here? And what about money? And isn’t it-” “Relax, Tess,” Taylor told me. “I have everything covered.”

“Rosalie had never been one to question or accuse, just to forgive -- but I guess everyone had their limits when it came to tolerance levels, and I’d crossed the line.”

“I'd grown to trust Mr. Bradshaw, even though he was the one who had taught me how to lie. Not to mention the day he lectured me on how to get close to someone to find out the truth about them, as if he was the ultimate expert. Nevertheless, I trusted him. I really did.”

“I ran, and I just kept running. I wasn’t going to stop until I got back to my family; I wasn’t going to stop until I got home.”

“Mr. Bradshaw was, in a way, my second father. I trusted him and wanted to make him proud. But that day, as I lowered myself to the ground in shock, it was hard to believe I was staring up at the same person.”

“I’m fine. I’m at an antique store, by the clothes store just a mile or so from-” “Which clothes store, Tess? If you haven’t noticed, there are about a million.”

“I know you’re hurting, Taylor, but grief is clouding your judgement and you need to stay focused. If you attack her now, you won’t win. You know she has the advantage, Taylor. I’ve taught you this. Please, we just need to get out of here.”

“I tried to blink back the tears that just kept coming. Eventually, I gave up and let my sight be obscured.”

“For once in my life, I wished Mr. Bradshaw had slipped a tracker into my shoe or my coat pocket. I wished that he was still keeping tabs on me, even when I told him that I didn’t need him to, or that I could take care of myself. Because the truth was that I knew I’d always need help along the way. I needed help now, and at some point in my life I’d need help again.”

“I was going to die. I was going to die, right now, right here, before I even had a chance to thoroughly apologize to anyone for what I’d done...before I had a chance to forgive myself. I wasn’t even going to leave with a bang, one final act of dignity or at least the thought that I still belonged somewhere; I would die without even the simple acceptance that I’d done everything I could. Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I didn’t want to die crying.”