“Rumor even had it that she’d stabbed her webcam with a knife one day, just in case someone took over her PC and filmed her unaware.”

“Annabeth came up to me. She was dressed in black camouflage with her Celestial bronze knife strapped to her arm and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder—ready for stabbing or surfing the Internet, whichever came first.”

“The light from the hallway spilled inside her bedroom. She’d barely stepped over the threshold when he caught her. Kenton spun her around and yanked her up in his arms. Two steps, and they were on the bed. Crashing down. Falling hard into the soft mattress.He caged her arms over her head, holding them with one hand even as he took her mouth.That other hand—yes!—drifted down her stomach and pushed between her legs. He’d find her wet, she knew it. One kiss, and she’d been wet for him. Creamy, hot. Ready.”

“jan was an excellent fuck...she had a tight pussy and she took it like it was a knife that was killing her.”

“Then one morning she’d begun to feel her sorrow easing, like something jagged that had cut into her so long it had finally dulled its edges, worn itself down. That same day Rachel couldn’t remember which side her father had parted his hair on, and she’d realized again what she’d learned at five when her mother left – that what made losing someone you loved bearable was not remembering but forgetting. Forgetting the small things first, the smell of the soap her mother had bathed with, the color of the dress she’d worn to church, then after a while the sound of her mother’s voice, the color of her hair. It amazed Rachel how much you could forget, and everything you forgot made that person less alive inside you until you could finally endure it. After more time passed you could let yourself remember, even want to remember. But even then what you felt those first days could return and remind you the grief that was still there, like old barbed wire embedded in a tree’s heartwood.”

“She overheard one of them shout, “This is Dr. Hartt’s daughter!”Eve had no idea why those words came back to her at night. Over and over her brain repeated, “This is Dr. Hartt’s daughter!”Not “Eve, we aren’t showing a heartbeat on the baby.”Not “David Statford was pronounced dead at the scene.”Not “We can’t stop the bleeding. She’s hemorrhaging.”Not “If the infection continues, we’re not going to have any choice. Eve, we’re recommending a hysterectomy.”Maybe it was because she’d still had hope when she heard those words. Maybe because she’d thought she’d be protected since her father was a surgeon at the hospital where the ambulance took her.”