182
" His face is like a waxwork, and I realize suddenly with startling clarity that the body and the person are two different things. Two different entities, somehow fused. The body is the one I am looking at now, attached to all these machines, the heart still struggling to pump, the lungs still struggling to breathe, valiantly fighting to stay alive. The person is another being entirely, the perpetrator of this crime, the one who ruthlessly swallowed forty tablets sometime in the middle of the night, then lay down beside his girlfriend to die. The person tried to kill itself, tried to kill its own body. I understand for the first time why attempted suicide used to be an imprisonable offence. It is, after all, attempted murder. The person against the body. "
― Tabitha Suzuma , A Voice in the Distance (Flynn Laukonen, #2)
183
" OK, OK, calm down, I tell myself. It's going to be all right. She's going to come back, isn't she? Except that she isn't. I am going to die, I realize. I am actually going to die. I put my hands over my face and start to sob. I feel like I am being slowly, carefully, ripped in two. I realize that this pain is worse than anything I could ever imagine. Worse than the deepest depression. I can hardly breathe with the strength of it. I feel sure that pain of this intensity cannot be sustained: any minute I will pass out. But I don't, and the pain keeps on growing, fresh waves of undiluted agony. I am sobbing so hard I can barely draw breath. My lungs feel as if they are ready to burst and the gasping, retching noises make me sound as if I am suffocating.
Fear courses through my veins. Fear and pain in equal doses. She has to come back. She simply has to come back. I cannot live without her. I cannot, and I will not. So this is what they mean about dying of a broken heart. It is actually possible. "
― Tabitha Suzuma , A Voice in the Distance (Flynn Laukonen, #2)
196
" When I reach the second verse, Flynn joins in, experimenting with some kind of weird harmony. As we sing our rather unique version of On My Own, it strikes me that, growing up, this is one thing I never imagined myself doing. Sitting on a bed in a psychiatric hospital with my manic-depressive boyfriend, singing duets on a ropey guitar. But strangely, right now, after everything else that has happened, it doesn’t seem so bad. "
― Tabitha Suzuma , A Voice in the Distance (Flynn Laukonen, #2)