“I’m staring at Anna’s house again. The logical part of my brain tells me that it’s just a house. That it’s what’s inside that makes it horrifying, that makes it dangerous, that it can’t possibly be tilting toward me like it’s hunting me through the overgrowth of weeds. It can’t possibly be trying to jerk free of its foundation and swallow me whole. But that’s what it looks like it’s doing.”

“Listen to me. I’m shy. I’m not stupid. I can’t meet people’s eyes. I don’t know if you understand what that’s like. There’s a whole world going on around me, I’m aware of that. It’s not because I don’t want to look at you, Lucinda. It’s that I don’t want to be seen.”

“The ultimate dead end is murder. My house is on a dead-end street, and it’s killing me. My house is so small it’s trying to suffocate me.”

“I have been entertaining the idea, Sky. Believe me. It’s just a huge step that can’t be undone once it’s taken.”“What if it’s a step you don’twant undone, though? What if it’s a step that just makes you want to take another step, and another step, until you’re full-on sprinting?”She laughs. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

“Writing to me is like being addicted to heroin… it’s hard and its mean, but you just can’t stop.”

“If you can’t hear me, it’s because I’m in parentheses.”