She stared at Raven in a long second of shocked silence, before sagging to the floor.
And in this moment of pale dawn in the hours before we leave California, I finally realize what has been the hardest thing for me about Matt__ death. It isn__ that I lost a brother, like Frankie, or a son, like Aunt Jayne and Uncle Red. The hardest thing is that I__l never know exactly what I lost, how much it should hurt, how long I should keep thinking about him. He took that mystery with him when he died, and a hundred thousand one-sided letters in my journal wouldn__ have brought me any closer to the truth than I was the night I pressed my fingers to the sea glass he wore around his neck and kissed him back. For over a year, the letters were my only connection to him; the only evidence that I didn__ imagine our brief time as other. When I first saw my journal helplessly floating on the waves, I felt a loss so immediate and overwhelming it was like being back in the hospital lobby when the doctor told us they couldn__ fix him. One minute, the journal was in my hands, soft and familiar and real; the next minute, it was gone. Just like Matt. And just like Matt, I need to let it go.
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And in this moment of pale dawn in the hours before we leave California, I finally realize what has been the hardest thing for me about Matt__ death. It isn__ that I lost a brother, like Frankie, or a son, like Aunt Jayne and Uncle Red. The hardest thing is that I__l never know exactly what I lost, how much it should hurt, how long I should keep thinking about him. He took that mystery with him when he died, and a hundred thousand one-sided letters in my journal wouldn__ have brought me any closer to the truth than I was the night I pressed my fingers to the sea glass he wore around his neck and kissed him back. For over a year, the letters were my only connection to him; the only evidence that I didn__ imagine our brief time as other. When I first saw my journal helplessly floating on the waves, I felt a loss so immediate and overwhelming it was like being back in the hospital lobby when the doctor told us they couldn__ fix him. One minute, the journal was in my hands, soft and familiar and real; the next minute, it was gone. Just like Matt. And just like Matt, I need to let it go.
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Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.
We're not in a fairytale story. This is not a movie. Scriptwriters don't write our fates. We do.
It felt oily inside her head. There were strings of Xavier Stancliff caught inside of her, holding on and spiderwebbing out as he plotted and waited and thought: this is all the bitch deserves. Swallowing, Sandra pushed herself off the bed. It was late and the room was dark. She could see the bundled lump of Jack beneath his own covers. He__ left the television on and the light flickered down the tiny hall. Shadows danced and Sandra shivered as she left the room.In another life, she would have told Danny and Jack about the man. Danny would have whispered, __t__ alright,_ and smoothed back her hair from her face and kissed her, lips dry and coarse on her forehead. Then he and Jack would__e left while she was sleeping. They would__e trampled the flowers and climbed into Xavier Stanliff__ window and when Sandra woke up there would have been one less man in the world.
They say when you meet somebody that looks just like you, you die.
Snape looked horrified. 'You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?''Don't look shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?''Lately, only those whom I could not save', said Snape.