Nobody cares. You shouldn't either.

This place is full of unwritten rules.

But nobody can run from their own demons.

That mush plays havoc downstairs, you know?

And when reality goes, sanity has no reason.

Don't need a degree in rocket science to do this job.

Only another twenty thousand or so days of this to go.

Let's make like a hockey player and get the puck out of here.

One last breath. We all have to take one eventually. It was over.

Trust me-that toilet and me were best friends for the first few days I was here.

When you're locked up in here for life, you learn to welcome the little freedoms.

Let me know if you're going to do something stupid, kid, 'cause I'll ditch you like that.

And when reality denies you the tools you need for survival you grab them from wherever you can.

Don't make the mistake of bringing your heart down here with you, there is no place for it in Furnace.

Better to be a spirit with the earth beneath you than a corpse pinned tight by the weight of the world.

It's one of the things I love most about being an author - seeing the different covers from each country.

Knackered inmates are easier to control than pumped-up ones. And dead inmates are even easier to control, if you follow me.

It's incredible how much stamina you can find when you're fighting and enemy in battle, even if that enemy is just in your imagination.

The world is an inferno. It will burn until every nation has fallen, until all who oppose us are dead, until people see the true light.

I helped you because you're new, and because when there's two people in a cell then there's only a fifty percent chance they'll take you.

Like I've said before, so many times before, I'm not a good person, I'm not a hero. I'm a criminal, a liar, a cheat, a killer. It was them or me and I wanted to live.

No, every person on this planet has darkness inside them. Buried so deep that only you know it's there when your world is coming to an end. Oh, but it's there. It's always there.

There always has to be someone to take the punches. That's how it works. It isn't fair, it isn't right, but that kid licking slop off the floor over there means that we get to eat in peace.

You don't have friends in here, you'll soon come to understand that. You get attached to someone, then you'll just lose them. They'll get shanked or they'll jump or they'll be taken one night.

You don't see heroism, humanity and hope like you do in a horror story. Horror celebrates the kind of friendship that keeps you standing shoulder to shoulder with someone even when the world is falling apart around you.

As soon as reality breaks, as soon as we're separated from the phsical world, the cracks begin to appear in our minds. And through them seeps the madness that has always been there, flowing into your skull like a liquid nightmare.

The human mind is a powerful thing in many ways, but in others it's endlessly fragile—it takes only a single moment of pure terror to tear a hole in it, like a finger through a cobweb, leaving you forever just a shadow, a half-person.

Hope. It is the most important thing in the world. I believe that now more than ever. Hope is what saved my life, hope is what gave me the courage and the strength to carry on. Hope – that unshakeable, golden belief that things can get better.

I'd been so set on an escape that was now impossible, and the only form of freedom left to me was death. It was a terrible kind of freedom—one from misery and pain, yes, but also one from lightness and laughter and life. It was an absence of everything.

Something in my gut twisted so hard that it felt like I was being tickled by an invisible hand, and it took me a moment to realize what it was. Hope. It had been so long since I'd felt it that the sensation was like something living inside me, something wonderful waiting to break free, just like I was.

Gettting to know your characters is so much more important than plotting. Working out every detail of your story in advance, especially when you don't yet know your main characters, always seems a little too much like playing God. You're working out your characters' lives, their destiny, before they've had a chance to discover who they are and what kind of people they want to be.

When you're scared - and I mean really scared, not just hearing a noise in the night, or standing toe to toe with someone twice your size who wants to pound you into the earth - it feels as if you're being injected with darkness. It's like black water as cold as ice settling in your body where your blood and marrow used to be, pushing every other feeling out as it fills you from your feet to your scalp. It leaves you with nothing.

Just take it from me," Donovan said. "Stay well clear of the warden. Some here think he's the devil. I don't, I don't believe in that religious talk, but I know evil when I see it. He's something rotten they dragged from the bowels of the earth, something they patched together from darkness and filth. He'll be the death of us all, every single one of us here in Furnace. Only question is when." "I know one thing," I added. "The warden certainly brings out peoples dramatic sides." Zee and Donovan both laughed through their noses.

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