“I don't rememberlighting this cigaretteand I don't rememberif I'm here aloneor waiting for someone.”

“I hate this feeling. Like I'm here, but I'm not. Like someone cares. But they don't. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here, and escape lies just past that snowy window, cool and crisp as the February air.”

“I'm glad the choice is made for us. I'm glad I don't have to choose-but more than that, I'm glad I don't have to make someone else choose me.”

“I don't believe in anything. I'm just here for the violence.”

“I don't know your customs, but here, if you don't want to frighten someone, you don't go looming over their sleeping body with knives.”

“Even though I'm sleeping again, everything still feels a little rickety, like I'm here but not quite here, like I'm just a stand-in for my real self, like someone could just reach over and pinch me and I'd deflate. I thought I was feeling better, but I don't know anymore.”