Saylor
Was it a sin to hate the dead?

It was something I had pondered many times over the past ten months. Although it wasn’t why I required medication to sleep at night. I wasn’t truly concerned about the level of darkness that resided in my soul. It was the images of the night I had watched a bullet take down the boy I had loved most of my life. Seeing the life leave his body, the way his eyes had gone void. It haunted me. Even now that I knew he’d betrayed me. That what I thought had been real had all been a lie. Crosby Cash had been in love, alright, just not with me.

Those closest to me, the ones who were supposed to love me, all accused me of being dramatic. Because that made sense. I just loved the panic attacks that robbed me of my ability to breathe. And the passing out from lack of oxygen was the best. Looking in the mirror and not recognizing the girl looking back at me was my favorite.

Perhaps that was the reason I sought solace in the last place anyone would think I’d go. We weren’t religious people. I’d been born into a family of organized crime. The day I walked into the catholic church seeking… forgiveness, closure, something…anything to find the girl I had once been, I hadn’t expected him. The man ordained by God to lead his people to salvation. Well, that man in the sky so many believed in made a grave mistake allowing a man who looked like Jude, or rather Father Jude, to wear that white collar.

I could lie and say I found what I was looking for standing in front of the altar, staring up at the crucifix, but even those with tarnished souls have their limits. I found something alright, but it wasn’t forgiveness. My answer wasn’t going to come from the one they called their Savior but the one they referred to as Father.

Montana

Momma hadn’t been gone from the world for twenty-four hours before the first letter showed up. Blue paper, folded into an origami heart, left where the writer knew I’d find it. Dealing with my grief, I was able to put it out of my mind until the next one came, then the next. Each one more disturbing than the last. Until I woke up to find one beside me.
He’d watched me sleep.

Only desperation could drive me to ask the man who had fertilized my momma’s egg for help. I preferred to forget him and his existence, just like he had us… me. But with Momma gone, I had no one, and I needed a safe place to escape—out of this town and away from the stranger who was stalking me.

To say I was shocked that my father turned me down would be a lie. I’d expected as much. He’d left me with no choice but to threaten to expose his sins to the God-fearing people of Mississippi who placed him in office. The nineteen-year-old daughter of a stripper he’d knocked up and deserted would know a lot about his transgressions.

However, the two men he sent to get me weren’t what I’d been expecting, but I didn’t really have much of a choice. It was trust the devil I knew or stay and live in fear of the one I didn’t.