He’s been following me everywhere since I got back. He hasn’t been this persistent since our fifth year—he even followed me to the boys’ toilet yesterday and pretended he just needed to wash his hands.
I don’t have the strength for it.
I feel 15 again, like I’m going to give in if he gets too close—kiss him or bite him. The only reason I got through that year was that I couldn’t decide which of those options would finally put me out of my misery.
Probably Snow himself would put me out of my misery if I tried either one.
Those were my fifth-year fantasies: kisses and blood and Snow ridding the world of me.
-Carry on by Rainbow Rowell