“I thought of the things that had happened to me over the years, and of how little I had made happen.”

“…the death of my mother was the thing that made me believe the most deeply in my safety: nothing bad could happen to me, I thought. The worst thing already had.”

“Fuck. This was bad. It had happened, hadn't it? The thing she thought would never happen, the thing she was always so careful not to have happen. She'd lost count, she'd lost track of what exactly she'd taken, and it had happened.”

“But in the same token, I wondered how I was still standing. Why wasn’t I six feet under from the shock of what had happened? How was I living, breathing, and lying like nothing had happened? Part of me might have been living, but the other part of me wished I was dead. I shuddered at the thought. I closed my eyes and pressed myself closer to Will. For the first time all morning, I felt safe.”

“I had considered how the things that never happen, are often as much realities to us, in their effects, as those that are accomplished.”

“Nothing made me happen. I happened.”