I can’t do it, I can’t kill him. Not because I still fear him or love him, but because he’s nothing. He’s pathetic, he’s a ghost, and killing him won’t bring my mother back or stop the nightmares. It won’t change my past, and I wouldn’t want it to. So I stand up, ready to leave. I got what I needed here—closure. My past is dead and forgotten like this house, and I will leave the ashes where they lie. Buried.
