“I know he did horrible things in the jungle. Things no amount of alcohol or pills could erase. War stains soldiers, all the way through their psyches, into their souls. I understand that, and could almost forgive him for taking his own life, to quiet the ghosts. But I can never forgive him for taking my mother with him.”

“Say a Hail Mary for me. I could use some forgiveness.”

“But then, my entire life is bullshit. The best things in it have vanished, ghosts. Ghosts I'll admit I created.”

“I want him to be my Edward -- taking care of me, always. Watching over me, day or night, unsleeping. Keeping me safe, by his side. Caring for me with a passion so pure it can't be corrupted by time or distance or seduction. I know Edward is only fiction. But that doesn't have to mean love like his can only be found in books and movies or rooted in the misty world of dreams.”

“Even without them touching me, I feel dirty about what I do. Alex does even filthier things but says it all washes off with soap. I don’t believe that. I think it all leaves stains. Indelible stains.”

“I wish I were worthy of his love. (Any love.)I should tell him to run. But I can't. I need him.”

“Dad staggered in, eyes eerily lit.The corners of his mouth foaming spit.His demons planned an overnight stay.Mom motioned to take the girls away.hide them in their rooms, safe in their beds.We closed the doors, covered our heads,as if the blankets could mute the sounds of his blowsor we could silence her screams behind out pillows.I hugged the littlest ones close to my chest,till the beat of my heart lulled them to rest.Only then did I let myself cry.Only then did I let myself wonder whyMom didn't fight back, didn't defend,didn't confess to family or friend.Had Dad's demons claimed her soul?Or was this, as well, a woman's role?”