“That’s one good thing about lightning,” she whispered. “It never strikes in the same place twice.” I strung that cliché round my neck and wore it like an amulet. And, like an amulet, in the end it preserved us from nothing.”
― Let Him In
― Let Him In
“I’ve felt it ever since I was a child: the fear that what I want and who I am don’t align—and never will.”
― Let Him In
― Let Him In
“Abruptly, realization strikes: I’m not in the dark, at least not completely. The bedroom light is off, but a bright sliver is running along the bottom of the door to our en suite—a crack through which light seeps like sand. It’s Pippa. That’s my first thought. It’s an automatic reflex, and a cruel one. That’s something you can’t prepare yourself for: the pain that’s self-inflicted. The unbearable cruelty of dreaming and waking—of forgetting, and half forgetting. And remembering. “Sylvie?” I call out. “Cassia?” Silence. “Are you okay?” The light in the en suite flicks off, the door opens, and a dark shape moves across the room as my daughter, whichever one it is, leaves the room. Ordinarily, I’d get straight up, find out who it was, check she’s all right, but I’m so tired I sink back into the folds of the bed. All I want to do is return to sleep—to a dream or a nightmare; any place where Pippa isn’t dead forever. I don’t want to be a single parent when I wake in the morning. Sometimes, I don’t care if I wake in the morning.”
― Let Him In
― Let Him In
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Jessie’s 2025 Year in Books
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