“All I heard were the bumps and crunches of my tires on the dirt road, blending with the dark noises of the forest. But it wasnt the forest that scared me. It was the people who lived and prowled within them.”

“I'd heard a saying about meth, that it took you down one of three roads: jail, the psych ward, or death.”

“I hadn't been "possessed", after all. Not by an angel or a demon. Maybe there were aspects of both inside me, but I was the one who chose which to let out.”

“It was you,' I said, my words as new and uncertain as a baby's. I was sixteen and in my bedroom, and I shook my head in an attempt to unscramble my thoughts. 'Not the tongue. The fire.'I shut my eyes, then opened them to make sure I hadn't made this thing up.[...]But Christian hadn't taken his eyes off me, and in his expression I saw a slew of emotions: shame, defiance, fury. Fear, but not for himself. For me. I saw my big brother, who carried me off the ledge at Suicide Rock when I froze up. [...] Who thought I was a fool and had no problem telling me so, but who stuck up for me anyway.”

“I scowled. I could resist it all I wanted, but I did understand what he was trying to explain. How sometimes he pieces of who you thought you were didn't add up to who you really were, like with me not standing up for Patrick when he wore those pants.”

“This is your birthday treat, and you're supposed to enjoy it, I reminded myself. It was part of my normal existence to give myself instructions like this. Maybe other people acted and lived in total naturalness. I often wondered if they did. But me? I needed an operating manual.”

“I live in my own little world. But its ok, they know me here.”