Riot House (Crooked Sinners Book 1)

“Yes, they’re abbreviations, but LOL? BTW? Acronyms. Emojis. Initials. They’re all considered text-speak.”

“Feeling pretty pleased with yourself?” Elodie asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.

“Yes.” I nod. “Very.”

“Oh, yeah? How quickly are you gonna fly across the room if I try kissing you on the mouth?” She gives me a look that’s half dare, half mockery.

“My ass will remain firmly in this seat, no matter where you decide you wanna kiss me.”

the best way not to fear a monster was to become one.

I always thought I'd find ultimate happiness within the pages of a book. I've been so convinced of that fact that I've devoted so much of my life to disappearing inside them, searching for that which has always eluded me.

At the beginning of any new life in any new place, time passes infinitely slowly. Every small detail of your surroundings is interesting, or annoying, or beautiful or puzzling, and requires your full attention. But after a while, there are fewer and fewer new things to notice and everything becomes familiar

after all. Our fucked-up brains work so similarly that I despise her almost as much as I despise myself.

Uh...words. I need words. Where did I put my ability to form coherent sentences? The same place I put my ability to think coherent thoughts, by the looks of things

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to feel. You’re scared of the truth and what it could mean. Down is up, and up is down…”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to feel. You’re scared of the truth and what it could mean. Down is up, and up is down…”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to feel. You’re scared of the truth and what it could mean. Down is up, and up is down…”