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Her metamorphosis quickened in my teenage years and when I turned eighteen, I walked into the kitchen and found her in front of the fridge with a pen balanced between…

A poignant tale of love, fear, and self-discovery, where Clary must decide between the comfort of solitude and the vulnerability of commitment.

What are you looking at?” It was obvious what I was looking at. Stupid question, so I ignored it. “Hey, what are you looking at?” Hmmm. Same question but with…

“Donal was pretty certain he wanted to live. All that blood on the sheets might tell a different story.”