It's nice here. So quiet. I don't have to wake up to shouting.

Just whom are you protecting? A bunch of NPCs whose only line is a laugh track?

Despite all the self-harm, all the big dreams and fantasies about self-sacrifice and what not... You still want to live your pathetic life until the very end!

I live for Mother. That's how it should always be. I can't leave this world before she does. That's what I decided for myself a long time ago.

His embrace is gentle, as if he's holding something fragile. Disgusting.

Have you ever seen anyone die a gruesome death and have an exact copy of them walk in like nothing happened a minute after?

Feeling the last bits of strength leaving me, I lean on Charles. As much as I want to smash his head against the floor right now... Having someone to lean on doesn't feel so bad.

My hair became perfectly combed - not a single strand out of place. Porcelain skin nurtured by evening masks and face cream. Fake. But no longer unwanted.

He's always in there, rotting in front of the monitor, never leaving.

Still... If I don't do as they say, I'll be left all alone. This is all I'm good for, anyway.

She's looking right at me, but all she sees is Scarlett Eyler. The child that never was.

You're unfair, C. It's me who wants to cry the most.

Her voice is loud, so loud. But the deeper I sink, the quieter it gets.

I thought I wouldn't mind losing my individuality if it'd mean getting influenced by yours.

You're not a loser god, C. I think you're wonderful. You're wonderful exactly because you're flawed. Because it makes you so very human.

I hug her tightly. It might as well be the last hug we share.

We're flawed. We're born to make errors. We hurt each other because we are essentially egotistic. That's why I want to know you better.

Vincent? Dying? The possibility has never occured to me before.

Are you afraid of death, miss Wiltshire?

If there is afterlife, I don't want to be the protagonist. Someone like Charlotte would be more fitting for the spotlight.