We Begin at the End

by Chris Whitaker

He was balding and sweating and maybe tiring of saving those so determined to die.

Night met others just like it, each swallowing Duchess so totally she knew she would not see day again, not the way other kids saw it.

“She wants to die.” “She doesn’t. You mustn’t think that.” “I can’t decide if suicide is the most selfish or selfless act.”

Billy Blue Radley.

“I just wish there was a middle, you know. Because that’s where people live. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing … sink or swim like that. Most people just tread water, and that’s enough. Because when you’re sinking, you’re pulling us down with you.”

You’re like a kid. Better and worse. Bad and good. None of us are any one thing. We’re just a collection of the best and worst things we’ve done.

“Is there a difference between a prayer and a wish?” Walk took his hat off. “You wish for what you want and pray for what you need.”

“Pretty sure mine are one and the same.”

She wanted to cry, though knew if she did the grief would settle right there in her chest, not let her breathe when she needed strength most. She would be there for her brother. It was the two of them. The outlaw and her brother.

“Death has a way of making saints out of mortals. But with children … there is no bad. She was small and beautiful and perfect. Like your mother was. Like Robin is.”