Bruiser; Neal Shusterman;

"For as long as I can remember I've stolen
Ripping all the hurts from the people I love,
And from no one else.
I don't choose it,
I don't want it,
But because they found a place in my heart
I steal their pain as soon as I'm near them,
And all because I got caught caring.
But those others,
ALL the others,
Dripping their disapproval like summer sweat,
They're on the outside,
And I will never let them in.
Never.
Let them keep their broken bones,
Shed their own blood,
I hate them.
I have to hate them, don't you see?
Because what if I didn't?
What if I suddenly started to care?
And their friends became my friends,
And every ache and pain,
Every last bit of damage,
Drained from them to me,
Until I was nothing but fractures and sprains,
Cuts and concussions,
but as long as I keep them on the right side of rsentment,
Despising them all,
I'm safe."

-Page 118-119


"‎I'll never understand how a man can live his life
With his finger on the self-destruct button,
Holding it there day after day,
Blinded by an obsession to press it
But lacking the conviction to do even that.
But today, the auto-destruct sequence is engaged,
And counting down."
-Page 199

"Pulling you from the water won't be enough, but I can defy your fate,
I have one last gift for you, Bronte, and it's one you can't refuse.
Inches from you now, I stop kicking, let my arms relax.
They drift down to my side and the sword falls free,
Because the only way to win is not to fight.
And I'm ready for victory's embrace.
She starts to revive, I start to let go,
Giving myself to the waters,
Sinking deeper, deeper,
Faceup, eyes open,
Eyes on her.
Then she stirs the shimmering interface between life and death,
and she finally climbs out of the pool far, far above.
She doesn't see me; she doesn't know,
And it can be no other way.
I feel no wounds now,
Or any stolen pain.
All that remains
Is gratitude
And pure
Perfect
Joy."

-Pages 312-313