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I’ve written you countless letters, none of them ever reach you So I stored this one away to make sure that, so to them And of all those years, I remember our time in Seattle most You liked it alked to the waterfront

We used to stare at the yachts out on the water and onder what it would be like to have a hoave us that kind of freedo, re from city to city, home to home, and yet every time I told you to pack, you did so quietly and without cootten what a noble son you were, and I never forgot those days Not e moved to Dallas, Ohio, Pennsylvania, or Boston

I’ot here, I’ve seen these lovely yachts sail by, and I beca a way to make sure that one day you have a boat of your ohere you can sail far away from any trouble, away from all those bad men around you

In the end, I couldn’t see another way to do this except to cooperate with your father

Escaping has been futile And even if it were successful, who’s to tell er out on you before I reach you?

I’ve stayed put and tried to make the best of what I have

The best of what I have is you, Greyson

In this box you will find the little that was of value to me, most especially the keys to the boat I wanted you to have It’s not ive you, but I hope that the ocean can give you the kind of co mother,

Lana

TWENTY-SIX

IN DARKNESS

Melanie

Blackness Cold Beeping sounds I feel alone I feel empty I want to move, open my eyes, as I hear voices around me Why can’t I move? I don’t remember it I see faces A woman A man Familiar Familiar voices

"Melanie?" she asks

"Sweetheart, do you rehin, and that’s when I see the large figure at the other end of the room My body trembles in reaction, not from fear but fro really hard His face is strained, there’s re the pain there cripplesin places other than o as deep as this

My lips part but I can’t talk, and then the woman presses a straeen my lips I s coldly, my throat raw The man--he, he is all I want to see--pushes hi me in, forehead, eyebrows, nose, lips, cheekbones, neck

Heat prickles through h that I can s other than disinfectant Forest Forest My brain screaer A tear trails downcomes out

"Oh, I thinkmaybe you should leave," the woman whispers to hi me when I was three, ten, fifteenwhat happened after?

The man hesitates

THE MAN looks at me like he lost himself and doesn’t think that what he lost can ever, ever be recovered

"No," I rasp "Don’t go"

His eyes bounce from my parents and back to reen pools, there’s a roil of feelings in there Frustration, regrets, and another

This man loves me

His eyes red, thiswill convince me he has not sat in that chair in the corner and cried for ive us a ly softly to me, and the low timbre of his voice torments and heals ently running a hand down the length ofa braid Someone braided my hair

Hey, princess