The Institute

But there were no words, and maybe no need of them. Or telepathy.

Sometimes a hug was telepathy.

The elderly woman behind the wheel powered down the passenger side window and peered at him through thick glasses. “Although not large, you look well-muscled,” she said. “You are not a rapist or a psychotic, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” Tim told her, thinking: But what else would I say?

revenge is a powerful motivator,

what you did for yourself was what gave you the power.

She was only fourteen, but she was already a hardened cynic.

He was only twelve, and understood that his experience of the world was limited, but one thing he was quite sure of: when someone said trust me, they were usually lying through their teeth.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

“Mom?”
“What?”
“Do you think memory is a blessing or a curse?”
She didn’t have to think about it; God only knew what she was remembering. “Both, dear.”

“It’s always the nice ones who get hit with the shit,”

According to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, roughly 800,000 children are reported missing each year in the United States. Most are found.
Thousands are not.