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Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
Lucy Christopher
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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
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WAL
Wasn
Ready
Answers
Everyone
Give
Wanted
Giving
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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I was surprised at her gentleness, her willingness to give in.
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I could hear you, talking to the daffodils and tulips, whispering to the fairies that lived inside their petals. Each separate flower had a different family inside it.
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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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There is no need to put your heart in a bottle, then you will die. - Ty from Stolen
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You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
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There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
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I want you to see that the person I glimpsed running beside the camel, running to save my life, is the person you can choose to be.
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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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Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me as if I could warm them up. They’re pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful, too.
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And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
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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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I chased money, pretended to be someone else to get it. It got easier the longer I did it... but that's the trap, see? When the deadness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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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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I remember that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.
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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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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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It sounded weird to hear you talk so much normally you only said a few words at a time. I'd never imagined that you'd have a story, too. Until that moment, you were just the kidnapper. You didn't have reasons for anything. You were stupid and evil and mentally ill. That was all. When you started talking, you started changing.
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The people we care for aren't always the one we should
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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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