I should stop. I know this, but the mantra in my head is loud and insistent. I deserve this. I deserve this. I am dying on that hill right now, even if it’s a lie. They’ll have to drag my lifeless body off it, have to pry my fingers from the soil and watch them dredge channels in the dirt as they pull me away. Because this is the kind of kiss you still fight for even after you die.
