I hate that it’s going to end this way. I hate that Brant’s last memory of me is filled with violence and bloodshed after he’s already experienced so much of that. A tear slips. A single tear trickles down my cheek, filled with so much regret that I’m not sure what hurts more—my pulverized insides, or my heart. My shattered legs, or the heavy burden of grief resting on my shoulders.
