It’s sweet. All this trouble for a kitty.
Holly BlackLife is like licking Honey from a Thorn
Holly BlackShe thought of something her mother had told her when she'd finally broken up with one of her most dysfunctional boyfriends. When a man tells you he's going to hurt you, believe it. They always warn you and they're always right.
Holly BlackThe row of dolls watched her impassively from the bookshelf, their tea party propriety almost certainly offended.
Holly BlackMarks forget that whenever something's too good to be true, that's because it's a con.
Holly BlackDon't be drinking the Haterade.
Holly BlackStichwörter: humor
It’s just that you go so crazy being alone like that. Sometimes he’d forget my water or food and I’d cry and cry and cry.” She stops talking and looks out the window. “I would try to tell myself stories to pass the time. Fairy tales. Parts of books. But they got used up.
Holly BlackStichwörter: loneliness fairy-tales sad trapped hopeless
Telling Sam and Daneca feels like peeling off my own skin to expose everything underneath. It hurts.
Holly BlackStichwörter: truth lies secrets hidden confessions sharing-secrets conspiracies
Magic gives you a lot of choices," Grandad says. "Most of them are bad.
Holly BlackStichwörter: magic choices curse-workers
Sam frowns at me, suddenly serious. "You know, I thought--for most of the first year we lived together--that you were going to kill me."
That makes me nearly spit out beer, I laugh so hard.
"No, look--living with you, it's like knowing there's a loaded gun on the other side of the room. You're like this leopard who's pretending to be a house cat."
That only makes me laugh harder.
"Shut up," he says. "You might do normal stuff, but a leopard can drink milk or fall off things like a house cat. It's obvious you're not--not like the rest of us. I'll look over at you, and you'll be flexing your claws, or I don't know, eating a freshly killed antelope."
"Oh," I say. It's a ridiculous metaphor, but the hilarity has gone out of me. I thought I did a good job of fitting in--maybe not perfect, but not as bad as Sam makes it sound.
"It's like Audrey," he says, stabbing the air with a finger clearly well on his way to inebriated and full of determination to make me understand his theory. "You acted like she went out with you because you did this good job of being a nice guy."
"I am a nice guy."
I try to be.
Sam snorts. "She liked you because you scared her. And then you scared her too much.
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