Red Hood

by Elana K. Arnold

This time, no one tsked about how Dennis shouldn’t have been alone in the woods, no one reported having seen him drunk and disorderly in the days and weeks before his death. Everyone mourned.

“I’m going to eviscerate him tomorrow. Fucking incel.”

“It’s okay,” he says into your hair, and his intentions are good, his intentions are so very good. But it’s not okay, it’s never going to be okay. Some things can’t be fixed. Some wounds won’t heal. That is the truth.