“She thought of the horse with his scars and wondered if having them so visible wasn't preferable to the hidden kind where nobody knew how to avoid the parts that still hurt.”

“I always hated when my scars started to fade, because as long as I could still see them, I knew why I was hurting.”

“Could she fall so low? No, there were limits, and she believed she still knew where some of them were.”

“I couldn't tell what colour her eyes were. They were wet and dark and shining, like pools of deep, still water. For a second I thought I could see pictures in them, like I was looking right inside her to where her memories were. She smiled, and I wondered if she knew what I'd seen or if she could see the pictures I kept hidden inside myself.”

“She had beaten the horse and the horse had kicked her in the tits, where it hurt.”

“If it wasn't for Noah, Echo would need me more... she would still be insecure, she would still be obsessing over the scars on her arms. She possibly wouldn't have recovered her memory of the night she got them. If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't be moving on with her life. Damn him for being a great guy.”