What Never Happened

by Rachel Howzell Hall

That was my last plea for help—if I needed something, I’d find a way to get it myself. Because promises are potato chips. They’re cheap. Easy to break. Too many hurt your heart.

Guilt demands ransom even though you’re broke, and it demands that you keep it company even though it’s fused to every molecule in your body. Guilt makes you scream, “What more do you want?” even though it’s already taken everything, including your happily ever after.