You Let Me In

If your husband is handsome and capable too, more glitter falls on you. If you don’t have it, you are deemed unworthy, different and possibly wrong. Without the love of a good man—any man—you are spoiled fruit, lacking an essential stamp of approval.

None of that meant anything to me. Smelled like a lie—it still does. It’s just another one of those things you ought to have in order to build your life right. It’s a screen to hide behind.

wasn’t so much enticed by the idea of love as such; even back then it never rang true to me.
“True love.” “Meant to be.”

She had never considered that we would blossom and become adults in our own right, slither from her grasp as we had from her womb, not hers anymore, but belonging to ourselves.

Strange how people never forget the wounds inflicted in their childhood.

Faeries are neither alien nor truly inhuman, though. They are just no longer alive.

Her skin was like milk, mine marred by freckles, but a sprinkle of pigments makes no bad girl, of course, it runs deeper than that, runs in the blood. Some of us are just born wrong.

I never was so blind, never wanted him for being dangerous; I already had a dangerous lover—already knew the taste of sin.