but my own voice sticks in my
throat like a big wad of taffy.
At last I manage, “Hello, Brendan?”
I’ve Tried to Get Over
What happened that night.
Tried to blame the meth.
The booze. The situation.
I even tried to forgive him
because Hunter is an angel.
But I can’t forgive him.
Can’t forgive that he forced
himself on me, inside me.
If he’d only been patient,
I probably would have
said yes. Okay. Let’s.
But I was scared, and
he knew it, and my
being afraid pushed
some kind of on button.
And it seems to me
if that happened once,
it will likely happen
again. I should have
called the cops. Turned
him in, seen to it he’d
never get the chance
to flip that on button
again. And if it wasn’t
for the monster, I would
have. So who is really