“They're not ‘fellas.’  They’re not anywhere near human. They’re nothing but leaking sacks of mutated maggots, just like you.” Lookswise, he and the other angels I’d seen were closer to living Adonises, complete with god-like faces and presence. But inside, they were maggots for sure.”

“Leaking sacks of mutated maggots?" He raises his perfectly arched eyebrow as though I'd just failed my verbal insult exam.”

“She hissed, right there behind my ear, and I had the horrible idea she was spitting maggots into my hair. Why maggots were a problem when I was about to be dead, I didn’t know, but the idea completely grossed me out. “In the womb I heard you die, for no one lives when a banshee cries.” I wasn’t just going to die. I was going to be rhymed to death. That simply wasn’t fair.”

“You deserve to die," I whisper, suddenly realizing Iv'e said the words aloud."Excuse me?" "Nothing.""Not nothing. You just told me that I deserve to be maggot feed.""Not maggot feed, just-""Dead!""Forget it" "I don't know why I said that. Just daydreaming, I guess.""Daydreaming about my death?""Forget it", I repeat."Are you sure you aren't still mad that I wouldn't let you borrow my vintage fishnet leggings?""More like I didn't want to borrow them,”

“On the outside, I’m the perfect kid–like a statue of perfect marble, serene and unreal. Inside, it’s all snakes and maggots and broken glass.”

“She's all over us like maggots on garbage, just because I interfered with one pickpocket yesterday.”