Sara Wolf

“Hairy monkeyballs!” I hiss. “Dogshit on a stick! Puke pancakes!” A head pokes in. Wren, green eyes smiling, walks over to my bed.“I knew you were awake. Who else spews such original and captivating swears?”

“It comes true because we're wise, dear.”

“The waitress scuttles away, and I make a shooing motion at the old couple who’re still glaring. “Don’t you have something to better to work on?” I hiss. “Like golfing or eating prunes or dying?” The old lady looks shocked. “Okay, sorry, not dying. But seriously, prunes are good for you.”

“I have a talent for hurting things," Jack perches the rifle on his cocked hip, and it's so insufferably arrogant I want to shove him into the ball pit next to us and slash or furiously make out with him. "But we always knew that, didn't we?”

“You like it. Knowing things about people. It makes you feel powerful.”

“I'm crazy and going crazier, and I don't know how to stop it.I don't know how to stop this hurrible darkness from eating me alive, and no one in the world is going to help me.”

“You are the sun, I try to say, You are the most important. You are the only light that's ever truly pierced my armor. You are the happiness and the spark and the one girl who never ran, who never cowered, who saw through my facade. I will never meet another girl like you, I will never want anyone as much as I want you. I don't deserve you.”

“How did you find me? If you hacked into the Club’s computer to look up my appointments - "“Whoa, I think you overestimate me, shitlord. Last time I checked all I did was be in the wrong place at the right time. I saw you and had to - ”“Stalk me.”“ - delicately approach you. In a sideways manner. From behind. Without being seen at all. For ten minutes.”

“I would love to slap you right now, but I’m currently wielding a nine pound ball and I’m afraid that would be called murder.”