Nenia Campbell

I was supposed to be powerless, and as a result they failed to see that I possessed claws.

Since when did psychiatry become one big, fat Myspace survey?

At first you might wonder what you did to deserve such treatment. Nothing, probably, so that doesn't matter. What matters is that, eventually, the abuse becomes the status quo. It's no longer about the whats and whys (__hat did I do?_ __hy are they doing this?_) but the whens and hows (__hen are they going to do it?_ __ow are they going to get me?_). Persecution becomes inevitable, inescapable. And once you get into the victim mindset, you're fucked. The bullies don't even need to hurt you now; your poor, warped, pathetic brain is doing half the work for them.

People rarely ventured outside the realm of their own hurts. They believed their own suffering was obvious to all, but might as well have been wearing blinders for all that they noticed anyone else's.

College had once been my greatest aspiration; it stood for everything my mother did not__ntellectualism, feminism, freedom. But being kidnapped had given me plenty of time to think, and somewhere between all that fear and dread, I'd realized that was the wrong reason to go to college. That the potential for those things had been inside of me all along, only I'd never realized because I hadn't believed myself strong enough to break free without an intermediary.

I'd seen entire constellations of possibility I'd never previously been aware of, so blinded had I been by the bright, glaring stars of expectation. Freedom, I was beginning to think, had less to do with where you were, and was more about who you were trying to be.

Mámá was fond of saying that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels__n aphorism I was pretty sure she'd cribbed from the thinspiration sites she subscribed to online__ut I believed that anyone who said such things had never tasted chili-cheese fries with melted cheddar, fresh ground beef, and Tapatio sauce.

Maybe it frightened them, to admit that a woman could be master of her fate.

If a woman defined herself solely by the man she was with__nd vice versa__he world would be a very shallow and insipid place, indeed.

Girls can fight with swords, too. Sometimes, even better than men can. They just have to want it badly enough that they're willing to work harder at it.

Valys also didn't think I was good enough for him. He made that clear every time he acted like a martyr forced to settle. But what he didn't understand was that if he thought I might not be good enough for him, he definitely wasn't good enough for me. I was well aware of my flaws, but I knew my merits, too; I shouldn't have to be anyone's second-best. Least of all, his.

I want to be your last thought at night, and your first taste at dawn.

Conquest was not satisfying if it began with a surrender.

Hatred is about possession. It is all-consuming, cruel, and vainglorious. When love is allowed to fester, it becomes twisted and corrupt; it settles deep in the heart...and metastasizes, sending its dark roots through the body to raze all that stands in its way. Love is chaste and pure. Love is banal....No, hatred has infinitely more possibilities.

Did you think I'd only want you once? Oh, my, you are more naïve than I thought. Why would I go through so much trouble for a mere tryst? Does a man ride a stallion but one time before condemning it to the abattoir?

Death is one lover who cannot be spurned.

I can take care of myself,_ I said hotly.__arlin, you don't even know how to pleasure yourself.

You think I'm gorgeous?___hen I look at you, all I can think about are the the different ways I'd like to fuck you.___o that's a yes then?_ she said shyly.__o, darlin. It's an I-hope-you-weren't-planning-on-sleeping-alone-tonight.