"But they were all damaged, you see. Something not right about the lot of them. Bad blood. Big dreams."
"Their sin was that they believed. Believed that they could be different. Special. They believed that they could change what they were—damaged, unloved. Cast-off things. They would be alive, adored, needed. Necessary. But it wasn’t true."
"They faded before their own eyes, till they were nothing more than living ghosts, haunting each other with what could be. What can’t be.”