That was what he wanted. For me to forget myself. For me to forget everything I’d worked for. So I pushed him away. I grappled with the gate, snapping a nail in my rush to get it open. Heath said my name. Like a prayer, like a promise. Like he used to say it. Like he still loved me after all. I gripped the gate so tight the metal rattled. No. I would not turn around. This was another act. A part of the show. And I refused to stay for an encore.
