“We wait to be rescued, but for whatever reason, no one comes. We figure that if no one protects us then we must not be worth protecting so we become prey and are easily picked off. Our wounded, kicked-puppy gazes attract sly predators and we sell ourselves for clearance sale prices, mistaking screwing for caring.”

“We have babies because we want them to love us, to make us important, but the only make us tired and fat and stinking of spit up because they're babies, not saviors. Their fathers leave us, sick of crap and sour milk, sweatpants and tears. But the babies still need all of us, only there isn't anything left to give because we based our worth on the lowlifes who knocked us up and around. So our babies end up screwed up and screwed with because not we're single again, too, so we're bringing home guys who secretly like pink satin baby skin more than our silvery stretch marks. We don't see what we should see because having anyone is till supposedly better than being alone.”

“I started wondering about life stories, how each one of us has one that isn't apparent at first glance, what we tell the world about ourselves and what we deliberately tuck away and never reveal.”

“It's just that instead of erupting and annihilating our tormentors, we destroy ourselves instead.”

“And of how we never really know someone, no matter how much we want to believe that we do.”

“We mutinied quietly, using every lesson we’d been taught by every person who’d ever used us for their own benefit.”

“There are only the three of us and our dark, burgeoning desires I am so afraid of what comes next”