What do you think?
Rate this book


367 pages, Hardcover
First published June 9, 2015
“I guess people can't be content without answers, even if they're wrong. We'd rather have a lie than a question that we can never know the answer to.”
“I think you should be angry if you're angry. But it's also true that hate has a way of hurting you more than the person you're hating.”
“And I almost understand now how you can be so trapped you’ll throw the whole world away just to get free”
“But why was it on me to survive? Why couldn’t my parents have stopped this?”
“I’m just sick of the victim being judged for fighting back”
“Between the Prophet and the law, I’ll have nothing left in the end.”
“That’s all religion is. Strategy.”
“The first time I’ve seen him since I told him how I lost my hands. I’m still a little bruised by the memory.”




There are so many people here that it seems like every mealtime someone is glimpsing me for the first time, gaping as though they’ve never seen anything as bizarre. As though we’re not all missing some pieces.

I could feel the window through which I viewed the world—no larger than a pinhole back then—broadening somewhere at the back of my mind just by looking at him. I couldn’t open my eyes wide enough. I wanted to stare at him for lifetimes, the perfect pores of him, his high eyebrows serene, like he’d never seen how angry God could be.
Jude taught me what love was: to be willing to hold on to another person’s pain. That’s it.
“It’s different for you,” I say. “You make them scared.”
“Then give them something to be afraid of,” she says. “You’re a badass bitch. You’ve done way worse than half these girls.”
I cast my eyes at the other bodies, I see skin tarnished with small holes of cigarette burns and pink puckered knife wounds and white lines like hash marks on forearms. Here, my scars are the only part of me that could be called normal. It seems like every girl here has had their own personal Prophet.
"God is always both alive and dead. His great sorrow is dying, always dying.”
“Who is God’s mother?” asked Deacon Sean.
“Her identity is inconsequential. Her only purpose is the duty her womb performs in growing the body of God. That is truly the highest calling of womankind. Any of you should be lucky enough to birth God.” -the fraudsterthe priest

“I guess people can’t be content without answers, even if they’re wrong. We’d rather have a lie than a question that we can never know the answer to.”
Earlier that night, I’d fought with Vivienne, my father’s third wife. I’d dropped a dish during washing, and she stuck out her rigid finger and gave me that tired old lecture about how it was almost time for me to marry and no man would want me if I didn’t arrange myself into the shape of a good woman. “Fine, then I won’t marry!” I said, and she reminded me that the job of a Kevinian woman was to marry. If a woman doesn’t marry, what’s the purpose of her? I threw down my dishrag right then, because I knew everybody else agreed with her.






“I think you should be angry if you're angry. But it's also true that hate has a way of hurting you more than the person you're hating.”






["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
"I am deserving because even after everything, I'm still hopeful. The people who hurt me couldn't kill my spirit. I'm dreaming still. See me, right now? Dreaming. And, given everything, that's pretty wonderful."
”I hope you decide to wait for God’s call, Minnow. We are the chosen. The Sacrificed Prophets of Heaven. We will be rewarded grandly if we do God’s will. You won’t just meet Him. You will dine at His table every night. He will bathe you and heal you. He will touch you with His unknowable green eyes, and you will be saved.”
"Jude taught me what love was: to be willing to hold on to another person's pain. That's it."
“Do we even need to cuff her?” one cop mutters.
“Look at what she did,” the other insists. “You saw the kid, looked like he’d been run over.”
“But just look at her.”
Look at me. My arms are crossed over my stomach and, at the end of the arms, an absence of hands, of fingers, of nails. Of any way to fight back.
Everyone always assumes it's with hands that people disobey. The Prophet thought so, too. If only he knew, if only everyone knew, my hands were never the source of my disobedience.
Jude taught me what love was: to be willing to hold on to another person's pain. That's it.
“I am a blood-soaked girl.”
“Growing up, I believed in miracles. I guess I don’t anymore”.
“You don’t change everything you believe all at once.”
“Anybody is capable of enormous harm, anyone with a mouth or a hand to write with.”
“Lies have a way of turning poisonous over time.”
"But the offer of freedom doesn’t mean anything to people who already think they’re free."
“I guess people can't be content without answers, even if they're wrong. We'd rather have a lie than a question that we can never know the answer to.”