Into the Fire

by Sadie Hunt

Why was the world so full of people who hurt other people and were then allowed to continue on as if nothing had happened? Why did they get to pretend they hadn’t done something vile while we, the victimized, were forced to swallow our pain and shame, slapping a stupid smile on our faces in order to keep them from feeling even a little bit uncomfortable?

“I’m not going to ‘get over it,’ but it must be nice to say that to someone like me without an ounce of self-awareness about the fact that the thing I’m supposed to ‘get over' happened because of you.”

But I’d done it, I’d told them everything. I hoped they choked on it.

Yes, I thought. I want to listen to your heart. I want to listen to it for the rest of my life.

I hated that as much as I wanted to protect her — as much as I wanted to give her the fucking world — I also wanted to fuck her. To fucking possess her. For real this time. And I had no right — no fucking right — to want that from her.

Lilah wanted to know. And she didn’t know it, but for Lilah? Well, for Lilah I’d do fucking anything.