The cabin was a wreck of cracked windows and damp walls, filled with a stale, metallic smell that clung to the back of my throat. I found a rusted cot and a broken wooden chair, surrounded by a silence so heavy it felt like it was pressing the air out of my lungs.
I sank to the dusty floor and clutched the one small photo I had managed to tuck into my pocket, and for the first time, my anger found a target. Losing a child is a unique kind of agony, but realizing he left you at the mercy of someone who despised you is a betrayal that burns differently.
“Why did you leave me with her, Terrence?” I asked the empty room, my voice disappearing into the shadows.
I stared at his face in the moonlight, feeling a dark urge to burn the picture just to stop the pain of looking at what I had lost. I wanted to punish him for his absence and punish myself for still being weak enough to let Brigitte break my heart.
However, I couldn’t bring myself to destroy the only thing I had left, so I pressed the cold glass of the frame to my chest and sobbed until I was empty. When the morning light finally broke through the pines, the cold was lodged deep in my bones, but a new, harder resolve had taken root.