Page 86 of Hale

A brother and sister who are madly in love.

Sick and healed by one another.

Not hurting a goddamned person.

They findthis—us—the stain on humanity they just can’t get past? They create laws in Monfuckingtana that say people like us are doomed for prison for a hundred years? For what? Love.

Fuck them.

Fuck those hypocrites.

Liars and abusers.

Scammers.

Blind fucking masses who say what we have is disgusting and gross.

Fuck them!

I rise on shaky feet and throw a pile of boxes into the floor. I want to destroy everything. This house. This world. Everyone in it.

I hate them.

I hate them for preaching love and not following through.

If this world is full of them and they won’t let me have the one thing that keeps me here, then they can fucking have it all.

“Why does our love story have to be a tragedy?”

“Mom and Dad’s love story was a tragedy. I guess all the good ones are.”

“Not ours, baby. Ours won’t be a tragedy.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Hudson. I’m sorry we didn’t win. I’m sorry our love story was a tragedy too.

Falling to my knees, I sob as I open the small rectangular box. If Mom were here, she’d pull me in her arms and promise she’d fix it all. Her words always healed me in some way. They had power like Hudson’s do.

Did.

He’s gone.

“I’ll make sure he stays away for life.”

Nine hundred dollars’ worth of metal shimmers in the overhead light. Beckons to me. Reveals an answer.

“Why does our love story have to be a tragedy?”

“I guess all the good ones are.”

Sharp. Brilliant. A way out.

I pick them up and marvel at them. Slide my middle finger and thumb through the holes to learn the weight of them.

Snap. Snap. Snap.