Maybe it's better this way-that we keep our darknesses close, hidden in our minds, protected by our hearts.

Why are you in my room?___ecause I can be.___ou shouldn__ be.___ave it, Rochester. You broke my nose.___oes it hurt?__e lifted a hand toward his face and dropped it. __ou could say that.___ood.__e nudged a tray on the floor with his boot. It had oatmeal, toast, and orange juice on it. __ungry?__onor__ stomach growled. __o.__yder__ lips turned up in a fleeting sadistic smile. He kicked the tray across the room. It hit the wall and overturned. __ood.

To know of the existence of evil, true evil that corrupted the world, had forever altered her heart and mind. If she had chosen a different path, she wouldn't have slept another night. Her head would have been restless as she thought only of the horrors that might be creeping outside her door, waiting to rend her flesh. She would not live a life as the hunted; she would be the hunter.

There are countless reasons for reading, but when you__e young and uncertain of your identity, of who you may be, one of the most compelling is the quest to discover yourself reflected in the pages of a book.

What would angel lips taste like? Sunshine? Marshmallows? Or something altogether different? Maybe buttered-popcorn jelly beans.

I once knew a girl who was like a dying rainbow. Her colors were incomparable, her countenance a whirlwind of brilliance. As much as she shone, however, she faded into nothingness, at times so quickly that I was unsure whether she had existed at all.