Issy Johnston

“Too bad, Samantha, they said to me afterward. Sometimes you fail. Miserably. Hopelessly. It happens even to the best of us. Well, not to us, it’s never happened to us. But it CAN happen. In theory. And that guy! I’m so surprised he didn’t rape us. Repeatedly. Or kill us. Or do some sick thing in between? And oh my god, that story he told about the wolf? So weird. Obviously twisted. Probably we shouldn’t have told him our names. He won’t remember, will he? I mean, it’s not like we’re traceable or anything? Like he could track us down? Like on Facebook or anything? He’s insane, remember? Murderous. Probably he doesn’t even have Facebook. I was like a breath away from calling the police the whole time. Or campus safety. Or like, just screaming “rape.” You’re supposed to yell “fire,” though. Because no one comes when you yell “rape,” didn’t you know that, Bunny”
― Mona Awad, Bunny

“I hope you don’t mind this music,” he says. “No.” I want to take the CD and throw it out the window, possibly setting it on fire first.”
― Mona Awad, Bunny

“Fuck you, poets. You think you are so smart, so cool with your word art. You have no idea.”
― Mona Awad, Bunny

“He called me dark, twisted, and mean.” “How sweet. He’s in love.”
― Mona Awad, Bunny