“Something else you should really know about me. When I get nervous, my fingers shake. I’ve noticed this a lot recently. When mother and father argue and their voices are falling around the small family apartment, when their voices are banging against my bedroom door, I can feel my fingers start to move. I tell my fingers to stop and, sometimes, they do. But if I look at my hands closely, once I’ve told them to stop, and I try to focus on keeping them as still as possible, I notice that they are still moving.”

“Hey roomie." I was breathless. I looked her straight in the eyes as my fingers squeezed my nipples and rubbed my swollen clit. "Told you I wouldn't stop when you caught me.”

“I reach over and stroke her hair. When I do, a few of the strands fall off in my fingers. I pull my hand back and slowly wrap them around my finger as I walk to my room and pick my purple hair clip up off the floor. I open the clip and place the strands of hair inside and snap it shut. I place the clip under my bedroom pillow and I go back to my mother’s room. I slide into the bed beside her and wrap my arms around her. She finds my hand and we interlock fingers as we talk without saying a single word.”

“You should be dead," he said, his voice full of wonder. "How is it that you're still alive?" Jaw clenched, I worked at his grip on me, trying to get my fingers between him and my wrist. "I work hard at it.”

“When I hold you in my arms and I feel my finger on your trigger I know no one can do me no harm because happiness is a warm gun.”

“I don’t give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am - I really do - but people never notice it. People never notice anything.”