“Write it down today, put it away, make sense of it tomorrow.”

“Sometimes I feel hunted by my grief. It circles me, stalks me. It's always in my periphery. Sometimes I can fake it out. Sometimes I make myself go so still, it can't sense that I'm there anymore and it goes away. I do that right now.”

“He tells me its going to be okay until all the words blur together into a hum that makes me close my eyes and I start to go away and five, ten, fifteen minutes later, I'm aware of my hand sliding down his lap and then nothingness and then the gentle sensation of his index finger pressing into my open palm and then his hand is at my face, running his fingers across my skin and I'm so awake.”

“I’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.”

“...We’re working with paint today and I pick the easel next to Jake’s. It thrills him.“What do you want?”“I want to apologize if you’re offended by the way I am,” I tell him. “But that’s the way I am with everyone. I was just trying to make you feel welcome.”“That’s the crappiest apology I’ve ever heard.”“Well, that’s because I’m not really sorry.”He rolls his eyes. “Right.”

“You get away with a lot, even after you're caught.”

“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.”