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Quote by April Adams

“Scarlett activated the viola and it came down like short shimmering curtain that covered her eyes with a band of violet light. It dilated her eyes, increasing her binocular summation so that everything in her field of vision was magnified and clear. It also protected her retinas from any sort of laser fire or plasma flash.”

Quote by April Adams

Book:Drawing the Dragon
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Drawing the Dragon

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April Adams

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“TRAUMA STEALS YOUR VOICE People get so tired of asking you what's wrong and you've run out of nothings to tell them. You've tried and they've tried, but the words just turn to ashes every time they try to leave your mouth. They start as fire in the pit of your stomach, but come out in a puff of smoke. You are not you anymore. And you don't know how to fix this. The worst part is...you don't even know how to try.”

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“For scapegoating to occur, a community must agree on a target who can be blamed for anything that goes wrong. Sometimes a community just needs someone to BE wrong all the time, so they can know they are right. It really doesn’t matter if the person is actually guilty or wrong, as long as everyone agrees on it. That agreement allows the community to act against the scapegoat and feel justified. They can hate, abuse, ridicule, neglect, expel, wound or kill the scapegoat and actually experience feelings of joy and well-being afterward.”

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Author:Raven Foundation
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“She gave me breast and vaginal exams until I was seventeen years old. These 'exams' made my body stiff with discomfort. I felt violated, yet I had no voice, no ability to express that. I was conditioned to believe any boundary I wanted was a betrayal of her, so I stayed silent. Cooperative. When I was six years old, she pushed me into a career I didn't want. I'm grateful for the financial stability that career has provided me, but not much else. I was not equipped to handle the entertainment industry and all of its competitiveness, rejection, stakes, harsh realities, fame. I needed that time, those years, to develop as a child. To form my identity. To grow. I can never get those years back. She taught me an eating disorder when I was eleven years old--an eating disorder that robbed me of my joy and any amount of free-spiritedness that I had.”

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Book:I'm Glad My Mom Died
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“Later on in the day, Shrader was just getting her bag ready to go home when Fallon pulled her aside. “Come with me.” He said. “Where?” “Oh, just a place. It’s really nice and I think you’ll like it.” Shrader nodded and Fallon disappeared as quickly as he had come. They met at the school’s front doors and Fallon began leading the way to wherever he was taking Shrader. She was curious, very curious to where he was taking her, but Shrader dared not to ask. Fallon kept a steady pace, and he seemed confident so Shrader seemed to somehow trust him. They passed the park, and every possible idea that Shrader could think of. She knew Fallon’s plan. He was going to take her somewhere where she’s never been before. “Here we are.” He says as they stand in front of each other. Shrader looks around. “There’s nothing here but the grass and some railroad tracks.” “Exactly.” Fallon says. “These railroad tracks have the power to hold the explanation that a human being cannot say. For example, in the 50s, African men used to lay on the railroad tracks and protest against segregation.” “What happened if a train came?” Shrader asked. “Then they would die. They wouldn’t move, because they wanted to prove a point. If they would’ve moved before the train reached them, then the protest wouldn’t have made any sense. People sacrifice to do the things they believe in.” “So what are you implying about us?” Shrader asks. “You explained to me a long time ago how badly you wanted to be heard. You believe that words should stand tall, and not just vocally. So, what I am implying is we lay on these railroad tracks to be heard. Let people know that we are the voice for the forgotten voiceless.” “And if a train comes?” Shrader asked carefully. “Then we die.” Fallon said as he laid against the tracks.”

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Author:Kaitlyn Dancer
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