As you can see, I’m two books strong into the new year (two books both started AND finished in the new year. gosh.). [If you would like more information on the rules (made up by Meghan – if you want to freestyle it, live your life! do what you want!) click here!] Mockingjay tore me to pieces. Someone asked for a post about that and LET ME TELL YOU, you will regret requesting that.
My absence from this blog isn’t even excusable, really, other than I wrote so much here last year that I felt we both needed some time to ourselves.
In order to (hopefully) satiate you lovely, wonderful, loyal readers for a while, please enjoy an excerpt from something I’ve been working on lately.
I noticed she was nursing her right arm, and she went on to try to eat her breakfast with the spoon in her left hand.
“What happened to your arm?”
My words broke into the silence enveloping the table since Nalan had sat down. Ahna shot me a look – shocked? Confused? I didn’t know why. Nalan wasn’t responding to me; I assumed she didn’t hear me. Then I realized the silence that engulfed us was there because everyone had willed it to be there. No one was saying anything. No one wanted to say anything. And presumably Nalan didn’t want to hear anything, either. This sick feeling crept into my stomach as I realized Nalan had been pulling her hair out again. My words choked in my throat; I didn’t know what I was sorry for, I just knew I was sorry. Mik mouthed the words, “Shut up,” at me, as if she knew I would keep talking, even though I couldn’t figure out how to make my tongue small enough in my mouth for the words to skate by. Silence. Ten minutes of silence. No one told me what was wrong with Nalan. Not even after she left. Not when she came back reeking of vomit, her eyes puffy and red, scalp just the slightest bit barer.