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I clung to that spark of hope, nurturing it into a small flame that chased some of the shadows in my heart away.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Shadow
Clung
Small
Chased
Nurturing
Hope
Spark
Away
Flame
Heart
Sparks
Shadows
Flames

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I used to think you were weak and just didn't fight back ... but now, honestly, I think you're actually pretty tough. It takes a hell of a lot of strength to not complain and lash out.
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So much grief, so much anger. So unlike the usual Adrian.
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Poor Martin. Geek or no, committing his soul to eternal damnation was a helluva price to pay for six minutes.
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She didn't understand what it was like to be filled with a love so strong that it made your chest ache—a love you could only feel and not express. Keeping love buried was a lot like keeping anger pent up, I'd learned. It just ate you up inside until you wanted to scream or kick something.
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Sage, he said. What are you wearing? I sighed and stared down at the dress. I know. It's red. Don't start. I'm tired of hearing about it. Funny, he said. I don't think I could ever get tired of looking at it.
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I like you being the sinner you are. -Adrian Ivashkov
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And than suddenly he was there, charging down the hallway like death in a cowboy duster.
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My mom beat me up, I informed my reflection. It looked back sympathetically.
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