I’d been waiting months for this. Spent sleepless nights thinking about what I would do if given the opportunity to get my hands on the person who took Rosemary from us. Bursts of memories play in my mind. Of Silas, of Rose, all the good, all the bad. That was what no one was getting. We knew she was gone. We knew that no matter how much blood we spilled, she wouldn’t come back. She was truly gone. We just didn’t fucking care. I stride forward, “No, it won’t,” twisting the axe in my hands so the blunt end points outward. “But it’ll make me feel a fuck-ton better.” I slam the end of the
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