The Midnight Girls

You don’t notice the bars of the cage,” Beata said, “unless you start to throw yourself against them. Surviving is a choice too.

It is not a fairy tale. And monsters like us don’t get happy endings.

Every day she was becoming a little less human, a little more of a monster.

In that moment they didn’t need words. Their matching expressions spoke for them. Let me save you. No, you let me save you.

Marynka was Midday. Her opposite. Her rival. Her. . . Was there even a word for a rival who you also wanted to kiss? Whatever she was, Marynka was the very last person she should be having those sorts of thoughts about.

I’ve tasted freedom. I’ve tasted hearts and it’s changed me.

Night did strange things to a place, to people, splashing shadow over familiar sights and faces, painting the world and its inhabitants as darker versions of themselves.

It's strange, isn't it?" he said. "You would think it would be impossible to feel two such contradicting emotions about a person at once. To hate someone so much you wish them dead, while at the same time the thought of them being hurt is unbearable. You can't stop yourself from worrying even when you know you shouldn't, can't stop yourself from looking at the door in case they might still walk through it.

She’d learned to use that darkness, learned how to fold herself into shadow until she was a slither of the night itself, learned how to grow claws and steal prince’s hearts. She’d learned to bide her time and wait for the best moment to strike. Really, Black Jaga could hardly claim to be shocked by Zosia’s actions. She was the one who had shaped Zosia into what she was, the one who had raised her. Wasn’t she the monster the old witch had wished for? The monster she’d crafted in her own image. You made me, Grandmother. Am I not everything you wanted me to be? The witch had only herself to blame.

No matter how dark the night, a new day always dawned. The sun never, ever failed to rise.

To begin with, someplace warm.

Where would you even go if you were free?” Beata continued. “East? West? You have no money. No family. No friends. You think your life would be better anywhere else?” Again, Zosia didn’t answer. It had never been about having a specific place or destination in mind. It was the possibility to choose, to go anywhere, wherever the mood and the wind took her. The freedom to decide her own path no matter where it might lead, the freedom to craft her own destiny.