“Your Alex.He's selfish too.He could have left you alone, but he didn't. The difference is he's always known the consequences.""And what are the consequences? What did you see?""You really should learn your history better Rowan." She slid the book across the table to me.The book was open and her finger was pointed to a list of names. I took a deep breath and began to read aloud."A list of the accused witches hung at Gallows Hill." I let my eyes wander down until they froze on one name."Alexander William Foster." The words sucked the life from me, leaving me limp and broken. My eyes met hers."What does this mean?" She pulled the book back and grabbed my hand. "It means that Alex is from a very different place. A place where is no free will.When they find out what he is, he'll hang for it, Rowan.And they will find out.It's all here. His future is our history.You can't change that." She tapped on the book as she folded the cover closed. I caught a glimpse of the title. The Salem Witch Trials.”

“The sketches in the back are not of a girl that looks like you, Rowan. They are of you. I drew them.""These are me? All of them?""Rowan, I've been drawing you since I was eight years old," he said.My eyes slowly rose to meet his after looking at the dates."How?" It was all I could say."I don't know.I've been having dreams about you for as long as I can remember. My mother always said I'd inherited some of her gifts, that these were some sort of visions,but I was hesitant to believe it until the day I saw you with your grandfather outside. Then I knew it was true.I knew I hadn't been dreaming about someone who didn't exist.I knew because I was in love with you before I ever met you.”

“They've found me. They know. Rowan, love, if you ever find this. I love you.-Alexander 1692”

“Did you make the crawl of shame?"I open one eye and smirk, "What?"She pulls back the covers and plucks my t-shirt, "What is this?"I swallow and stretch and moan a little, "My…" I clear my throat, "Uhm...t-shirt."I make duck lips and watch her. She arches her eyebrow and shakes her head, pointing at my shirt and waggling her finger. "Nuh uh. No. I know all your dirty skeezy little orphan clothes and this shit isn’t yours." She bats her eyelashes blankly, "Spill bitch.”

“A lot of help she was. Weren't witches supposed to have power? If you asked me Noel seemed more like a glorified gothic librarian.”

“Dear Diary,All that she left inside the box was a blank book and a name. You are the book, and I am the name...An-Ya. As you know, my name is printed on your first page. Did She write it? What did She look like as She stood over you with Her pen? Were there tears in Her eyes? Why were you left empty inside?”

“She was still dressed in her cheerleading uniform from school that day, her eyes red and rimmed with smudged mascara. She looked like a raccoon with team spirit.”