"There is a dangerous moment between being a child of someone and not being that child anymore. It's a knife edge moment that can turn a child toward love or very far way from it. Resentment can manifest many things in a person, as love can. There is power in both equally."

Sob sob sob, she thinks, crushing the thought, the paper, that stupid letter, at last her in hand.

She had blood on her hands already and now she adds her mother's blood.

She turns to the man, the one who stayed, the bleeding puddle of a guy hunched and shaking near her feet. She turns to the man she loves and cannot love. She wipes her mother's blood off her brow with a brisk swipe.

This story will end badly, she thinks. That sucks.

She pulls the trigger.

Comments

[TwoBusy]

That? Is some good noir.

*fist bump*

[cIII]

That deserves a round of the Good stuff. Bravo, Picket. Brav-motherfucking-o!