"She gets up and searches aroun her backpack for a moment, and then reaches over and grabs The Bell Jar, and reads to me. 'But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so whte and defenseless that I couldn't do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get at.' She sits back down next to me, close, facing me, the fabric of our jeans touching without our knees actually touchig. Margo says, 'I know what she's talking about. The something deeper and more secre. It's like cracks inside of you. Like there are these fault lines where things don't meet up right.'"

Tonight I had my first nosebleed.