she'd disappear with strange men and return an hour later, her lipstick smeared and eyes damp with tears. {{book 2}}

everyone said that nails were painted to suit someone's mood. but her nails were always painted black. {{book 4}}

she'd glide on her mascara, using her hair to cover up the badly masked bruise on her face. {{book 1}}

sometimes the scars were there, sometimes they weren't. it all depended on the concealer. {{book 3}}

"Peanut butter and jelly, with extra peanut butter, please." Holy shit marry me dude.

"Well that's the last jar" "Yeah, I know. " I say reaching for it "What if I want it?" he asks playfully No way in hell is this boy getting the last jar of nutella. (MICHAEL CLIFFORD SHORT STORY) (BOOK 1 IN THE FOOD SERIES)

God, I hate him so much. He is the definition of asshole. "Ketchup and mustard?" My mother calls to us. "No mustard." we say in unison