“If I love you more than you love me, I’m as good as dead. Yet I can’t make myself take it back. I can’t just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I’m dying inside.”
“Justice is for the victim.” Kick. “Vengeance is for the survivor.”
“If I love you more than you love me, I'm as good as dead. Yet I can't make myself take it back. I can't just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I'm dying inside. And I'm pretty sure that hurts worse than whatever Marc would do to me. Whatever your dad would do. Hell, Faythe, I'm pretty sure that never touching you again would hurt worse than the nastiest death Calvin could think up for me.”
“Why is this so hard?” I whispered.
His pulse leaped crazily at my admission. “Everything worth fighting for is hard.”
“You deserve better than me,” I whispered, and the selfish part of me hoped he wouldn’t hear.
He heard.
Marc spun me around so fast I would have slipped again if he weren’t holding me up. We were so close drops of water from his chin fell onto my chest, and I had to crane my neck to see him.
“You are perfect for me, Faythe, just like you are, because you’re not perfect. You’re headstrong, and impulsive, and outspoken, and I’m possessive, and overprotective, and too easy to piss off. We’re both wrong for a lot of things, but we’re right for each other. Do you understand?”
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I've seen this episode. This is the one where Sylvester eats Tweety.”
“...sometimes compassion is the greater part of honor.”
“What could thunderbirds want with us?" I wondered aloud [...]
"We'll find out when Big Bird wakes up," Marc said.
My father shook his head. "We'll find out now. Wake him up and make him sing.”
“Five toms bound and gagged. One ruptured scrotum...”
“We would not have hurt the child, even if she is our natural enemy. Nor would we have hurt you, if it could be helped. Finn was killed by a male cat, and in exchange for that information, we also agreed to try to remove the female cats from your encampment before the true melee begins.”
Melee?! Were these ninja birds? Green Berets with feathers?”
“I will never marry you. I will never have sex with you voluntarily. And the day you touch me without permission will be the day you swallow your own testicles whole. Do you understand?”
“Suggestions?" I asked [...]
Marc never took his gaze from the cage. "Get the hose.”
“Jace. This can't happen." I closed my eyes, thinking it would be easier to say without him looking back at me. But it wasn't. "This isn't about us. I can't leave Marc.”
“We’re days away from going full scale against Malone, and in the meantime, we’re under fire from above. And I’m about as useful as a three-legged dog.”
“You’re much more useful than any kind of dog, mi vida.” Marc purred and pressed me into the counter, his hands on my hips. I couldn’t resist a smile. I was a real sucker for Spanish.”
“Nobles and peasants marry early. Businessmen tend to wait.”
“Whoso laments, that we must doff this garb
Of frail mortality, thenceforth to live
Immortally above, he hath not seen
The sweet refreshing, of that heav’nly shower.”
“When Mary Shelley took a local legend based on truth and crafted fiction from it, she'd made Victor a tragic figure and killed him off. He understood her dramatic purpose for giving him a death scene, but he loathed her for portraying him as tragic and a failure.
Her judgement of his work was arrogant. What else of consequence did she ever write? And of the two, who was dead - and who was not?”
“Madness will push you anywhere it wants. It never tells you where you're going, or why. It tells you it doesn't matter. It persuades you. It dangles something sparkly before you, shimmering like that water patch on the road up ahead. You will drive until you find it, the treasure, the thing you most desire.
You will never find it. Madness may mock you so long you will die of the search. Or it will tire of you, turn its back, oblivious as you go flying. The car is beside you, smoking, belly-up, still spinning its wheels.”
“See you just don’t understand women the way I do J.D. They want it all: a career apple martinis financial independence great shoes but at the same time—and this they’ll never admit—they are drawn to patriarchal men who are dominant and controlling. That’s the essence of the Darcy complex. He may be an asshole but he’s an asshole that gets the girl in the end.”
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