They Never Learn

by Layne Fargo

‘I’m a vindictive little bitch, truth be told.’ ”

Even in his final moments, I doubt he learned his lesson. But I didn’t kill him to teach him a lesson; I killed him to carve him out of this world like a tumor. And I’d do it again.

Reading was my most reliable escape in childhood, the one way I could get away from my father while still trapped in the same space with him.

“Men like him don’t want a relationship, they want a fan club. The more members the better.”

Unlikely. If men like that could learn the error of their ways, I wouldn’t have to teach so many of them a lesson.

I’m not an object or an obstacle to him anymore. I’m his goddamn ruination.

There it is: the anger, the disbelief, the utter indignation that I would dare to judge him, to hold him accountable. To make him pay for what he’s done.

Kinnear had a special knack for making smart women do stupid things.

It’s about power, not sex.”

Even if he tries his best to be sensitive and caring, he’s still a man. He’ll never know what it’s like.