Unforgivable Truths

nds, but I barely felt it. The cold inside me was much w

s a v

mic night together. In the video, she was sitting on the stage, holding a vintage Gibson guitar-t

. The text underneath read: He said it always

gasping for air as the muscles in my back seized. The ALS loved stress. It fed on it.

ills, swallowing them with a glass of water. They barely touched the edges of the a

ght long ago. Ethan and I were teenagers, lying in the back of his pickup truck, staring at the star

ng was him, calling from that long-

eceiver, the words a ghost from a life that was n

yes. Ethan was standing over me, his face a mixture of anger and some

voice rough. "I called you ten time

ace offering. A memory of a time when he used to bring me food af

n softening for a fraction of a second. "I w

miliar. But then the light caught his collar. A smear of brigh

as all a lie. A wave of nausea washed over me. I scrambled out of bed and barely ma

ding in the doorway, his face tw

voice shaking with rage. "After everyt

n. He saw only my disgust, not the cause of it.

"Stay here and rot.

was left on the cold tile floor, alone with the smell of anot