“No matter how bleak and black her existence became, the familiar sight of the moon restored something within her, small as it was—like tiny fluttering wings of flame beating back the darkness.”

“Only two people knew this side of her—herself, and the one who had created it; the one who made her secretly loathe herself, made her feel used and dirty and broken—like tarnished scraps of silver. These night-time reminders made her too aware that like those silver scraps, even if she were somehow melded into something whole, she would be new—never the same as she once was. Never unbroken.”

“We all know pain,’ Nate said. ‘It becomes a part of us… But it doesn't define us.”

“No matter how bleak and black her existence became, the familiar sight of the moon restored something within her, small as it was—like tiny fluttering wings of flame beating back the darkness.”

“It was more real than anything she’d ever imagined, and she clung to that in the same way that the sky clung to the earth.”