He looks at me, and I don't know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she's not here with us now, in this room. It's just him and me, and the books. I feel like our lives are in those books. I feel like all the words on the pages are for us.
Lauren DeStefanoMots clés books wither sadness library fever lauren-destefano chemical-garden-trilogy sever
Vaughn is talking about the heat, and his voice is so excited that it breaks into whispers at times. He loves his madness the way a bird loves the sky.
Lauren DeStefanoMots clés insanity wither madness dystopia vaughn sever the-chemical-garden-trilogy
I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.
Lauren DeStefanoMots clés knowledge wither loss sadness grief lauren-destefano sever the-chemical-garden-trilogy
It's quiet for a while, and then Rowan says; "We could talk now. We're alone out here. No walls."
"There are always walls." I say.
Mots clés wither world solitude sadness alone walls lauren-destefano sever the-chemical-garden-trilogy
When we're alive, life consumes us. But when we die, all of the color and the motion is gone so quickly, it's as though it can no longer stand to be wasted on us.
Lauren DeStefanoMots clés life wither death dying sever
I had to sever my emotional cord to escape the anger and shame that silently slithered through my head, disconnecting myself from the stares and whispers that followed me down the hall.
Rebecca DonovanMots clés weakness shame struggle guilt anger self-hatred feelings escape thoughts emma emotional sever disconnecting stares
We can change so many times in our lives. We're born into a family, and it's the only life we can imagine, but it changes. Buildings collapse. Fires burn. And the next second we're someplace else entirely, going through different motions and trying to keep up with this new person we've become.
Lauren DeStefanoMots clés life sever rhine-dystopian
His lips are familiar. I know the shape of them, know how to make mine fit against them. His taste is familiar too. For all the illusions and colors and sweet smells... he has always tasted like skin. His breaths are shallow. I'm holding his life against my tongue, between my rows of teeth. He's offering it up.
Lauren DeStefanoMots clés kiss lauren-destefano sever
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