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Even now, thirty plus years later, the memory is visceral. Watermelon spoiling in her stomach. Clouds covering the sun. Laughter bleeding away to tears shed quietly under an oak.
She doesn’t want to lose him but can’t seem to hold on to him without letting go of something else.
Chelsey’s lips twitched, hating the implication that being born female made you automatically guilty of something.
The best prisons are the ones created in our own minds.
Mom was always worried about money. About how much things cost. How much I cost. Sometimes I wondered if I hated her. Which hurt to think of. Then I wondered if she hated me. Which hurt even more to think of.
Danny rested his forehead against mine. “I love you.” I didn’t say the words back. Withholding love was a power play. I had a mean streak a mile wide.
That the truth is these people are not strangers. They are the men who you sleep with, the men you work with, the men you raise. I wish this wasn’t what it means to be female—it is not a matter of if something bad will happen, but when.
Ellie stops at the light and switches it up and down—three short bursts, three long bursts, three more short bursts. SOS. Morse code? A chill runs down Kat’s spine.
She can’t look at him, at his clouded eyes. She blames him as much as he blames her.
How do we let go of what no longer exists?
Blaming yourself is common in these scenarios. People are conditioned to believe girls plus bad choices equals bad things. It’s a type of inoculation. Lead a good life, and nothing heinous will befall you. But no one is invulnerable. No one untouched.
