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Kiersten White

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“I get that you're scared and that you've been hurt. But doing what is easy and safe is no way to live, and a life without passion and love is so far beneath what you deserve.' His words hit me in the gut and my head spins. He's right. I've been choosing alone because it's safe and easy. It doesn't mean that I'm stronger or smarter than everyone else. Just that I'm...scared. I'm letting all of the hurt I've had over the last few years keep me from moving forward.”

“I felt certain that once again I was on the edge of it. On one side: Victor, Justine, Henry. The life I had built with such vicious determination. On the other: the unknown. But the unknown beckoned, promising rest from pain. Rest from sickness. Rest from the endless striving and manipulating and working, working, working, working just to keep my place in the world”

“...Did you know he was keeping a journal, too? He was writing an account of his life, but editing out the parts where he murdered people for their body parts. He made himself the hero...You are - if you were worried - an angel on earth, faultless, beautiful, and utterly and completely in love with him.' 'I had no idea he had such a talent for fiction.' 'Mm,' she said. 'You were also murdered by Adam on your wedding night! Such drama, Victor was committed to an asylum for some time after, so great his mourning.' 'That insufferable ass,' I hissed.”

“But sometimes they were so caught up in the business of studying and preparing for the afterlife, they failed to live. Death loomed so heavily in their minds that they stopped being able to see anything but this final mystery, this final aspect of life they couldn't understand, couldn't control. The fear of death can grow so large we let it keep us from living. Birth and rebirth. Chaos and order. Life and death. Balance.”

“He grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me with the strength of his terrible grip. 'Suffering is temporary!' And so are you! I almost lost you. You would have died, leaving me alone. When I saw you on your sickbed, inching ever further out of reach, I swore I would never let that happen. You are mine. You belong to me. Do you think I enjoyed what i had to do? i hated it. But I had to do it. All my work, all my sacrifce, has been for a single purpose. I am going to defy death. I am going to steal the spark of creation from it, to make life eternal, untouchable by corruption. And I am doing it for you. When I succeed - and I will succeed - then you will count yourself the most blessed creature on God's earth, because you will no longer be subject to Him. I will step into that place. I will be you god, Elizabeth. I will re-create you in my image, and we will have our Eden. And it will never be taken from me.' 'You are mad.' My voice trembled, but I could contain my fury.”

“Honestly, Evie," I huffed, flopping back to the centre of my bed and glaring at the ceiling. "Why don't you whine some more instead of actually doing anything?" "Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," Arianna volunteered, leaning on the frame of my open door. "Yeah, so's seeing things no one else can, but people seem to like that about me." "Good point. Odds are, you've been crazy for years now. I'm probably nothing more than a figment of your imagination." "If that were true, I'd imagine you as less of a slob." She sighed. "Isn't it sad that you hate yourself so much you can't even dream up a pleasant roommate?" "Not as sad as the fact that you admit how bad you suck as one." Flashing a wicked grin, she narrowed her eyes. “ I'd use the term 'suck' sparingly around me.  Don't want to go planting ideas in my pretty,  dead head." I threw a pillow at her.”

“Did you do this?” “There are other ways to beat someone than with fists.” Radu poked her in the side with a finger. She surprised him by laughing. He stood up straighter, a proud grin at having surprised and delighted Lada bursting across his face. She never laughed unless she was laughing at him. He had done something right! Then the lashings began. Radu’s smile wilted and died. He looked away. He was safe now. And Lada was proud of him, which had never happened before. He focused on that to ignore the sick feelings twisting his stomach as Aron and Andrei cried out in pain. He wanted his nurse—wanted her to hold and comfort him—and this, too, made him feel ashamed. Lada watched the whip with a calculating look. “Still,” she said. “Fists are faster.”

“None of them are real to me.” He paused again, placing a hand flat against the door. “You are the only real thing in my life.” Radu gasped with the sheer physical pain the words sent through him. But the sound of his agony was covered by that of the door opening. Mehmed reached in and pulled Lada out to him, and then his mouth was on hers and his hands were in her hair and he was holding her so tightly, so tightly, and they stumbled back into Lada’s room and closed the door. Radu tripped forward, feet dragging, until he stood outside the room. He wanted to be inside it. He wanted to be the only real thing to Mehmed, just as Mehmed was the only real thing to him. He wanted— No, please, no. Yes. He wanted Mehmed to look at him the way he had looked at Lada. He wanted Mehmed to kiss him the way he had kissed Lada. He wanted to be Lada. No, he did not. He wanted to be himself, and he wanted Mehmed to love him for being himself. His question, the question of Mehmed, was finally answered, piercing him and leaving him shaking, silent, on the floor. He did not want this answer.”

“I entered my old home like a thief in the night. I was there to steal the life of its heir. I set my feet on the richly polished wood floor on which generations of Frankensteins had trod. My soaked skirts dripped a steady puddle of water that would damage the wood if left unmopped. As a child, I would have cleaned it immediately, wishing to leave no trace of myself and no opening for censure. I leaned over and wrung my hair all over the floor.”