"And all the time he was enjoying his badness, hugging it to him as though it were a friend, and not caring a bit."

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I showed her how I'd been making tiny cuts in my skin to let the badness and the pain leak out. They were shallow at first, and short, like claw marks made by a desperate cat that wanted to hid under the front porch. Cutting pain was a different flavor of hurt. It made it easier not to think about having my body and my family and my life stolen, made it easier not to care.

— Laurie Halse Anderson