“You hear even a hint that a blizzard’s coming, Roxanne Giselle, you go straight to the store and buy toilet paper, you hear me? And make a pot of chili or stew. Don’t get caught out. I don’t want a phone call saying you starved to death, stuck in the house with no stew.”

“I want you. I want to taste you. I want to f*ck you. I want to make you come and I want to hear you moan my name when you do so I know that you know it's me who made you come.”

“You tore my sheet.”“I’ll buy you a new one.”“I don’t want a new one. I think I’m going to have this one bronzed.”

“Okay kids,” Ralphie said, trailing me. “Don’t be too late. Don’t do any drugs, drive smart and even if all the other kids are doing it, think twice. If you’re going to be over your curfew then make sure you call your Daddies or we’ll get worried.”

“I left you sweet and smiling in this goddamed bed and I don’t see you or hear your voice for four days? Then I walk into your office and you give me attitude and tell me to kiss your ass because you’re in a pissy mood about some shit you refuse to share? No. You gotta know, darlin’, that shit don’t play with me.”

“It was like someone in a suit walked up to me and gave me a certificate, which stated “Roxanne Giselle Logan, Your Life is Fucked”.”

“You get caught up in your chaos, you don’t realize just how much you’re dragging everyone along with you.”