Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.

I was crying for the little girl I had been, who had withstood terrifying nightmares of death and blood and war and maiming. And when I had tried to share those horrors, the shock on my friends' faces had told me I was not normal, and I should keep my dreams to myself.

Day leans in toward me. He reaches up to touch my face. I can tell it still hurts him to use his fingers, and his nails are dark with dried blood. "You're brilliant," he says. "But you're a fool to stay wish someone like me."I close my eyes at the touch of his hand. "Then we're both fools.

When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.

Jez had gone from an evil twin to a sweet, even angelic, girl, all in less than a minute.

Adrian smiled and clasped my hands, taking a few steps toward me. "And as for who you are, you__e the same beautiful, brave, and ridiculously smart caffeinated fighter you__e been since the day I met you._ Finally, he put __eautiful_ at the top of his list of adjectives. Not that I should have cared.__weet talker,_ I scoffed. __ou didn__ know anything about me the first time we met.___ knew you were beautiful,_ he said. __ just hoped for the rest.