ADVERTISEMENT
The ‘storm’ was merely a convenient shroud for a calculated execution. The grief I had carried for five years, which had been tempered by a sense of resignation, suddenly ignited into a cold, sharp rage.
I spent the rest of the night in a haze of terror and clarity. I realized now why Aaron had been so present in our lives over the last five years, why he was always checking in, always hovering. He wasn’t being a supportive friend; he was monitoring the family he had destroyed, ensuring that no one ever dug too deep into the wreckage of that night.
ADVERTISEMENT