But should I? That was the question I didn’t know how to answer. I’ve spent seven months trying to outrun what I am. I crossed oceans and kept going until I found places where nobody knew my name. I thought I could outrun the man I was and the things that that man had done.
But none of it worked. The fire didn’t burn out like I thought it would.
So I came back. Not for me.
The glass door swings open and she steps out. She’s moving fast, stiletto heels punching holes into the soft grass. The green dress shimmers like a woodland nymph and her hair floats off her shoulders in the breeze.
I don’t move. I stay right where I am, back against the stone wall, hands in my pockets, and I let her come to me.
Because this time, it has to be her choice. Not mine. Not the mask’s. Not the dark’s.
S
