I am still alone, broken and small, the butterfly fighting for life in the grass.

I scream for everything that has gone wrong. I scream for everything broken in our lives.

To her, it was like asking a butterfly what it remembered about being a caterpillar. She could fly now and nothing could touch her when she left the cocoon of her body behind at night.

We determine whether a book is for boys or girls long before the reader gets a chance to decide: we package them with soldiers and ballet slippers on their covers, war machines and glittering gowns.

Once upon a time, a girl had a father, a prince, a society of friends. Then they betrayed her, so she destroyed them all.

The phony surrender's over; the ceasefire has ended. The final fight for the Republic has begun.