“I watched my beautiful sister running . . . and I knew she was not running away from me or toward me. Like someone who has survived a gut-shot, the wound had been closing, closing - braiding into a scar for eight long years.”

“I leaned down and kissed her mouth. It tasted salty, like her tears. This time, not warmth, but electricity shot from my mouth to my toes. I could feel tingling in my fingertips. It was like shoving a pen into an electrical outlet, which Link had dared me to do when I was eight years old. She closed her eyes and pulled me into her, and for a minute, everything was perfect. She kissed me, her lips beneath mine, and I knew she had been waiting for me, maybe just as long as I have been waiting for her. But then, as quickly as she had opened herself up to me, she shut me out. Or more accurately, pushed me back.”

“For I knew already that something had taken me from me, and had replaced it with a desperate longing for a time before; a time before fear; a time before shame. And now that knowledge had a voice that rose from the depths of my years and howled into the night sky like a wounded animal longing for home.”

“I closed my eyes against the suddensorrow that someone I knew so well should be someone who consistently brought me so much grief.”

“My life has been like a battlefield, a war that could never be won unless I had her with me, and the day she died my battlefront stepped down and threw away their shields, allowing the gunshots to slip through the second her heart stopped beating. From that moment onwards I was left wounded, and for those seventeen years without her my wounds bled-wounds no stitch could ever repair.”

“I was hurting, too. How could she have done such a terrible thing? She was my friend. She treated me like a confidant, and she protected me like a big sister. I loved Tally, and now she had run off with a vicious killer.”