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I liked to think that someday I’d run into her and see in her face that, in spite of what I’ve been through, the girl I used to be is all innocence and light. That when she smiles, it’s beautiful and not broken.
Indulging myself would seal my complicity; I would be taking a step through the door I thought I would rather die before entering. I would really be Lynn. I would have taken candy from his hands, from the devil’s own hands. Sold my infinitesimal soul to him, handing it over in tatters and shards.
Love was an exiled emotion, an amputee from my inner body—the wound staunched and cauterized with cruelty and privation.
