chapter fourteen
MORGAN
I sit on the floor before Will’s bunk, overwhelmed by a myriad of feelings. I’m angry and sad and frustrated. Energy balls up in my stomach.
It makes me sick to think of anyone abusing a child. It makes me sick to think of anyone abusing Will.
I straighten my shoulders, realizing that by sharing this memory Will has allowed me to relieve a fraction of his burden, to salve a mangled part of his heart.
“She won’t win,” I say, clearing the tears from my eyes. We lock eyes and he nods once, slowly but with purpose.
“She won’t win.”
I pick myself off the floor and head to my bed, tired but determined. If Will is going to allow me, I’m going to make sure that every physical manifestation of his abuse lessens with time.
It’s a lofty goal but one that I embrace with
