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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
Lucy Christopher
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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Dead
Sinking
Stolen
Deeper
Darkness
Gets
Becoming
Easier
More quotes by Lucy Christopher
I remember the lights turning into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.
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And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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Doesn't that hurt? I said. Yep. How do you keep them in there? I'm stubborn. You grinned. Stubborn as a waddywood. And anyway, pain means it's healing. Not always.
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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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You nodded towards the cup. Want more? I shook my head. What about the car? Didn't find it. You were heading back towards me when I found you. Towards . . . ? You nodded. So I reckoned the car had probably got stuck or died somehow, and you were just coming home. Home? Yeah. Your mouth twitched. Back to me.
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But what else can I do, other than to plead with you like this? Other than to write down my story, our story, to show you that what you've done . . . to make you realize that what you did wasn't fair, wasn't right.
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In a moment, when I'm ready, I will turn off this computer and that will be it. This letter will be finished. A part of me doesn't want to stop writing to you, but I need to. For both of us.
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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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Had you been lying all along? Mum gently stroked my hair. I whispered into her shoulder. “I can’t go back. Not yet. I can’t leave.” And she held my head tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have to,” she said, rocking me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, not anymore.” And I cried.
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I didn’t want the person standing there, beside the bed, to have the same face I’d found so attractive at the airport. But you were there all right: the blue eyes, blondish hair, and tiny scar. Only you didn’t look beautiful this time. Just evil.
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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
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The sand stretched out gray and ghostlike and illuminated, a column of light leading forward. It was like something a dead person would see, a tunnel leading toward heaven.
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How would she find her herd? How would she find you?
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I didn’t look back, but I knew you were still watching. It probably sounds weird, but I could just feel it. The hairs on my neck bristled when you blinked.
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You looked at me, your eyes huge. You we're like a dog then, waiting for me to throw you a bone . . . waiting for something I could never give you.
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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
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It was so big, that view. I’ll never remember it properly. How can anyone remember something that big? I don’t think people’s brains are designed for memories like that. They’re designed for things like phone numbers, or the color of someone’s hair. Not hugeness.
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The land wants you here. I want you here, you called. Don't you care about that at all?
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Where are you going? I asked. The middle of nowhere. I thought this was it. Nah. You shook your head. This is just the edge.
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