“We could get out of here,” she sobbed against my neck. “You and me. We could just load up the car and leave this shithole town behind us. I would go with you, Joe. I would. I love you.” She continued to sob, peppering kisses down my neck. “I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, it makes me want to die.” I believed her, and that scared me worse than the prospect of staying. Because I knew that she was willing to do anything to help me, and in the end it wouldn’t be enough, because I was too fucking gone in the mind. She was too good for me, too fucking good for the world. I knew
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