Susan Ee

They have different colored wings. The one who smashed into the car has snowy white wings. The giant has wings the color of night. The others are blue, green, burnt orange and tiger-striped.

She’s lifted into the air, screaming my name. “Penryn

Make sure you wear the stars.” She’s referring to the yellow asterisks she’s sewn on our clothes. How I can not wear them is beyond me. It’s on everything we own

He looks at me with accusation in his eyes

“They’re not ‘fellas.’ They’re not anywhere near human. They’re nothing but leaking sacks of mutated maggots, just like you.”

I’d just failed my verbal insult exam

decide the term, “angel of mercy,” is an oxymoron

You,” he says, with a dirty look, “don’t deserve salvation.”

dig my nails into my palm to remind myself never to let my thoughts slip again

wonder which will get you killed faster—your loyalty or your stubbornness?”