Like regret, there wasn’t room for hate. Hate changed someone’s make-up. It made them reckless. Hate killed its host. I never let myself hate because I loved to live. But right now, I could say I hated something. Two things. That goddamn ring and the man who gave it to her. Hatred fucking burned, like inhaling mace, getting punched in the throat, and being stabbed simultaneously. That was my comparison gathered from trial and error as a Made Man. Add in a dose of poison that eats you from the inside out, and that’s hatred.
