“You could have stopped him.” “I tried,” I finally said, “I tried to get him to give me the keys.” “You didn’t try hard enough.” His words sliced through me like little shards of glass getting under your skin. “It should be you in that grave, rotting in hell with him.” That was the last thing he said to me before he turned and stumbled into the forest like a thief in the night. My legs gave out from under me, and I sat there rocking side to side until daylight.
