~~Luke~~
I knew this day would come, the day my son’s murderer, Sara, would make parole. I’d pictured it a million times—what I’d do, what I’d say, who I’d become. Sometimes, in those imaginations, I tell myself it won’t matter. Fifteen years is a long time to keep the past hovering over your head, so whenever she got out, I’d be indifferent about it. But I see now that I’ve been lying to myself. I’m not calm. I’m not indifferent. I want to set something on fire.
In my defense, that theory might have worked if she’d actually stayed in prison the entire fifteen years. But it’s been five years.
“What the f**k do you mean by she’s out?” I say, getting out of bed. “Where did Mom get this information?”
I know it's from my mother. It can't be from my dad. He's secretive about everything, esp
