Shirley
The first thing I did after leaving that chapel was make myself a vow—no more Tessie.
If I so much as caught a glimpse of her in town, I turned the other way. If her voice carried through the marketplace or near the bar, I pretended not to hear. If she even looked at me across a room, I pretended I didn’t see. It wasn’t cowardice, I told myself. It was survival.
But the truth was far uglier. I was afraid.
Every time I thought about Tessie’s hollow eyes and Elias Vane’s voice, whispering in that ruined chapel about blood and first kills, my stomach knotted so hard I felt sick. I couldn’t go back there. I couldn’t stand in front of her knowing she believed his words—believed that the only way for me to become who I was meant to be was to end someone else’s life.
I wasn’t ready
