Quotes from Amy Efaw

In case you didn't know, dead people don't bleed. If you can bleed-see it, feel it-then you know you're alive. It's irrefutable, undeniable proof. Sometimes I just need a little reminder.

She can paint a pretty picture but this story has a twist. The paintbrush is a razor and the canvas is her wrist.

Just because you don't say much doesn't mean people don't notice you. It's actually the quiet ones who often draw the most attention. There's this constant whirlwind of motion and sound all around, and then there's the quiet one, the eye of the storm.

A pattern of raised crisscrossed scars, some old and white, others more recent in various shades of pink and red. Exposing the stress of the structure underneath its paint

And wishes, truly wishes, that she could say the same herself. Because hurting herself would be so much easier.

She can paint a lovely picture, but this story has a twist. her paintbrush is a razor, and her canvas is her wrist.

Devon had been so lonely, so terribly lonely, for so long. The kind of lonely that sears, that burrows its way deep inside a heart and throbs. Like a gnawing hunger.

My mind/a twist of clutter/ as i lie in bed imagining my life/ I watch the shadows on the ceiling./Memories sail across my eyes. / I need courage to see them. / I fight with myself/But then I close my eyes to the twilight/ And release myself to sleep. The scars you can't see are the hardest to heal. I'd rather be lucky than good. Good is just so overrated. Bad girls have the most fun. A fool empties his head every time he opens his mouth

Sir... I... don't want... to... be... here," I said between sobs. There, I'd said it. Now everyone would be happy- Cadet Daily, my mother... Yes, you do, Davis." No, sir... I don't," I gasped. Homesick?" I shook my head from side to side. "No... sir... it's too much... like home.

Devon? Are you okay?" For the first time, Dom's voice sounds unsure. Devon sats nothing, not one word. She pushes herself up. She slides the papers toward herself. She slowly folds them into quarters. She closes her hand around them. Devon lifts her face to Dom's. Is she "okay"? Will she ever, ever be okay?

Her keeper jersey; she thinks of it now. The number 1 on its back. A lonely number. Only one goalkeeper on the field. Only one player who guards the net. Only one who stands strong and alone behind the other ten players on the field. No place to hide. No way to disappear.

Devon stares at him standing there, remembering the only other guy had ever opened a car door for her. Last summer. The sky was bright blue mirroring the water, the sun warm. A perfect day. He had smiled down at her; he'd That Look in his eyes- warm and eager and a little bit vulnerable. When he'd look at her in that way, and smile that tilted smile, her body would tingle with an electric tension that robbed her breath away. That was then. And now? Now she is here.