This is not a test. Listen closely. This is not a test."
But I think she's wrong. I think this is a test.
It has to be.
I take a deep breath. It smells suspiciously like bullshit in here.
Courtney SummersI’m sorry,” he tells me.
I sit down on the bed. He returns to the view of the street below. I follow his gaze and I see the infected walking slowly back and forth.
“It’s okay,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. He nods. “Good.”
He puts the gun under his chin and pulls the trigger.
Stichwörter: sad crazy emotional trace sloane ending-words
Anyway," Jake says. I turn back to him. “I just wanted to start over a good note, that’s all.”
I have to put this poor guy out of his misery. “Look, Jake, I’m not in the market for –“ I almost say a boyfriend, which is true, but this is even truer: “People”.
You get away with a lot, even after you're caught.
Courtney SummersYou know how you feel when you meet someone and they just give you the impression they're living on this entirely different planet from everyone else? That's sort of how I felt when I met you.
Courtney SummersThe fall takes no time and forever.
Courtney SummersStichwörter: falling
it's blindingly awful and awfully satisfying all at the same time.
Courtney SummersI am so sad. I am so sad it makes me heavier than the sum of my parts. I shift, restless, but it doesn’t help. It’s like—time. All this time in here is on me, has its hooks in me. Maybe if I sleep more, I’ll wake up and I’ll feel different, but I can’t. The storm is really happening now and it makes the room feel emptier. Makes me feel emptier.
Courtney SummersStichwörter: sadness emptiness
I wish I could break this window. Step through it. But I can't break this window. I can't even find some less dramatic way to die inside of this school, like hanging myself or slitting my wrists, because what would they do with my body? It might put everyone at risk. I won't let myself do that.
I'm not selfish like Lily.
I hate her. I hate her so much my heart tries to crawl out of my throat but it gets stuck there and beats crazily in the too narrow space. I bring my hands to my neck and try to massage it back down. I pres so heard against the skin, my eyes sting, and then I'm hurrying back down the stairs, back to the first floor. I think of Trace running laps, something he can control.
Stichwörter: hate suicide selfishness sisters runaways zombies
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