no regrets.
Danyella, 17, Canada.
The Collector, by John Fowles (via thefairestoffolk)
He is solid; immovable, iron-willed. He showed me one day his killing bottle. I’m imprisoned in it. Fluttering against the glass. Because I can see through it I still think I can escape. I have hope. But it’s all an illusion.
A thick round wall of glass.
