Medusa

by Jessie Burton

I was lonely and I was angry, and rage and loneliness can end up tasting the same.

“It’s okay. As far as I’m concerned, it’s up to you whether or not to believe what other people predict for your future. People will always have their own motives. But my old grandpa soaked up every word. Became obsessed with this prophecy. It was so unfair. My mother’s never forgiven him. She was a woman who’d done nothing wrong except exist.” “Except exist,” I echoed in a whisper.