Quote

I feel a thread tugging me again, but this time I know that it isn’t some sinister force dragging me toward death. This time I know it’s my mother's hand, drawing me into her arms. And I go gladly into her embrace.

Veronica Roth

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Veronica Roth
Age: 36
Born: 1988
Born: August 19
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
New York City
New York
Veronica Anne Roth
Force
Gladly
Death
Sinister
Mother
Thread
Hands
Drawing
Feel
Embrace
Feels
Toward
Time
Arms
Tugging
Hand
Dragging

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I look up, and stop breathing. Eyes glitter in the darkness. Dark shapes sit in the car, more numerous than we are. The factionless.
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Sometimes I still forget to look for the gentler parts of her. For so long all I saw was the strength, standing out like the wiry muscles in her arms or the black ink marking her collarbone with flight.
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It isn't the height that scares me - the height makes me feel alive with energy, every organ and vessel and muscle in my body singing at the same pitch. Then I realize what it is. It's him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.
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He told me once to be brave, and though I have stood still while knives spun toward my face and jumped off a roof, I never thought I would need bravery in the small moments of my life. I do.
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My first instinct is to push you until you break just to see how hard I have to press.
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I feel empty, not because of sadness, but because of relief, all the tension flowing out of me.
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Little girl, he called me. A little girl who is stressed out to the point of paranoia. That is not me, but now, it's who the Candor think I am.
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Eric walks toward me, and I back away by instinct. I try not to be afraid of him, but I know how smart he is and that if I’m not careful he’ll notice that I keep staring at her, and that will be my undoing.
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There are no safe rooms, no safe truths, no safe secrets to tell.
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When i get home, I sit on the front step and take deep breaths of the cool spring air for a few minutes. My mother was the one who taught me to steal moments like those, moments of freedom, though she didn't now it. I watched her... But I learned something else from watching her too, which is that the free moments always have to end.
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I notice, however, that Peter only pretends to inject himself—when he presses the plunger down, the fluid runs down his throat, and he wipes it casually with a sleeve. I wonder what it feels like to volunteer to forget everything.
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Don’t worry about me handling the pain, I say. I’ve had a lot of practice.
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Learning how to think in the midst of fear is a lesson that everyone needs to learn.
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