Slasher Girls & Monster Boys

It took strength to be quiet. It took strength to be kind. It took strength to let other people's cruelty bounce right off of you.

Not all monsters are filled with darkness.

Teenage girls know more than we're given credit for. We sense danger even when everyone's telling us it's fine, he's a perfectly nice man, an upstanding member of our community, have you tasted his sugar-cream pie?

Stop it, Misha. Stop being so frightened of everything. But she couldn't stop. She carried fear with her like a little animal, curled in the nook behind her heart, and it whispered to her. You are weak, you are frightened, and you will never dare do anything at all.

The flirty old moon eased his way across the warped and sooty floorboards and kissed my bare toes, turning my feet as luminous as the skin of cinema stars.

Darkness grew where it would and took what it wanted. It staked its claim and never let go. And no one else could pry you free of it.

Turning, she looked out at the icy landscape, the soaring trees, branches dark and bitten blue with frost. And for a moment, she had something like a premonition, a feeling that something terrible was watching her, something hungry and sick. She could nearly hear it out there, panting between the trees, its breath ragged and spoiled.

What I think and what I actually do are two different things. That's what makes us good or evil.

We're perfect while we hide behind our little screens. We can be whoever we want in the dark. But there's no delete key IRL. No way to undo the mistakes we make.

Dying wasn't so bad, not really. Not when you could go out like this, on a summer's evening with the fireflies winking in the trees. She always thought dying would be a scream into a void, a thrashing, a searing. Not this slow and sleepy drip.

Well, maybe that would have happened if the world hadn't ended. It did. The world ended. On a friday.

Not all monsters are filled with darkness.' She wanted him to understand this so badly that her voice trembled. He didn't even hesitate. 'This one is.' She allowed herself a moment to admire Tommy, the way he stood so resolute, like a knight charging after the monster. He just didn't get that this fight wasn't his to wage. 'Exactly so,' she finally said. Of course Tommy would think she talking to him. He exhaled as though relieved and the start of a smile eased the tension around his lips. By the time he realized that she'd spoken the words to someone over his shoulder, it was already too late.

None of our parents saw what we could see, which had us decide that growing up into adulthood must mean going blind.

She had a pretty name but she knew she wasn't pretty.

He stayed there with her through the night. Every time she struggled to open her eyes, she'd see him, the ghostly outline of white ears against the threatening shadows. Perhaps he had killed her after all. Perhaps he hadn't. There was only one thing Cassidy Evans knew for sure: It had been a marvelous tea party.

Eight Years Old, Eighteen Years Old Cassidy was barely conscious when the March Hare, finally finished, gingerly lifted her onto her stump and gently slid a teacup onto her finger. She strained her senses and thought she heard a long sigh and the creak of old bones as he settled at the other end of the table. He stayed there with her through the night. Every time she struggled to open her eyes, she'd see him, the ghostly outline of white ears against the threatening shadows. Perhaps he had killed her after all. Perhaps he hadn't. There was only one thing Cassidy Evans knew for sure: It had been a marvelous tea party.

Maybe if she'd invited him into the forest all those years ago, things would have ended differently. But she doubted it. Darkness grew where it would and took what it wanted. It staked its claim and never let go. And no one could pry you free of it.

And suddenly Misha wished everyone were blind, every single person at that table with its clinking silver and hissing lamps. Because what good did seeing things do, really? For all their squinting, peering eyes, they did not know who was good and who was wicked, who was strong and who was cowardly, who was murdering in their house, and who was trying to save their lives. Eyes were tricks in bone boxed, but everyone believed them.