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Quote by C J Cooke

“I knew intimately how devastating it was to lose someone you love, how your entire life can change – or end – in the blink of an eye.”

Quote by C J Cooke

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C J Cooke

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“Feyre,' he said- softly enough that I faced him again. 'Why?' He tilted his head to the side. 'You dislike our kind on a good day. And after Andras...' Even in the darkened hallway, his usually bright eyes were shadowed. 'So why?' I took a step closer to him, my blood-covered feet sticking to the rug. I glanced down the stairs to where I could still see the prone form of the faerie and the stumps of his wings. 'Because I wouldn't want to die alone,' I said, and my voice wobbled as I looked at Tamlin again, forcing myself to meet his stare. 'Because I'd want someone to hold my hand until the end, and awhile after that. That's something everyone deserves, human or faerie.' I swallowed hard, my throat painfully tight. 'I regret what I did to Andras,' I said, the words so strangled they were no more than a whisper. 'I regret that there was... such hate in my heart. I wish I could undo it- and... I'm sorry. So very sorry.' I couldn't remember the last time- if ever- I'd spoken to anyone like that. But he just nodded and turned away, and I wondered if I should say more, if I should kneel and beg for his forgiveness. If he felt such grief, such guilt, over a stranger, than Andras... By the time I opened my mouth, he was already down the steps. I watched him- watched every movement he made, the muscles of his body visible through that blood-soaked tunic, watched that invisible weight bearing down on his shoulders. He didn't look at me as he scooped up the broken body and carried it to the garden doors beyond my line of sight. I went to the window at the top of the stairs, watching as Tamlin carried the faerie through the moonlit garden and into the rolling fields beyond. He never once glanced back.”

“A strangled, sobbing gasp choked Wendy as the world started to spin around her. She tried to breathe, to break through whatever hold this memory still had on her, but it was all she could do not to let herself go completely. Every piece of her was trapped in that day, silently screaming for her younger self not to abandon her mother in her last moments.”

“I'm outside my parents' home in the aftermath of their deaths, waiting for my three siblings to arrive so we can go through it, room by room, object by object, memory by memory; decide what to keep, what to discard. Stepping out of my rental car, part of me feels like a trespasser now, while another part feels like I never left. (7)”