Kimberly Rainey

“The second Madison hit twelve, we started fighting. Swear to God, all she did was sit around trying to think of ways to make me feel like shit.” Hannah was smiling, but Emmy could recall the exquisite torture of Madison’s insults. “Then out of nowhere, she’d drop a compliment, like say that my dress was pretty, or my hair looked good, and I’d feel like I won the fucking lottery.”
― Karin Slaughter, We Are All Guilty Here