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Hope was the ultimate Judas. It had betrayed her hundreds, thousands of times.
only she could remember all the things she used to know, used to believe, used to be.
She closed her eyes and said a prayer for the first time in a long time. She’d believed her faith, like hope, had betrayed her. But maybe it hadn’t. Hope seemed like such a fragile thing, but it wasn’t. It was still alive inside her. And maybe so was her faith.
He’d read once that the nation was only nine meals from anarchy. In a bitter winter like this, with temperatures well below zero and the threat of freezing to death in your own home a real possibility, it was happening even faster.
Nature was what it was. It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t filled with malice, not like humanity. It was beautiful in its hardness.
Grief did that to you. Scooped you hollow from the inside out. So did regret.
“No one knows when their time is gonna come. I’ve had myself a full life. I’ll go when I go, and I’ll go in peace.”
“Alone is a state of mind, nothin’ else. You remember that. So is fear.”
She didn’t want to be helpless. Didn’t want to be afraid. And she didn’t want to be a victim. Not anymore.
