Faith (Book Two)

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

"I heard that Lyle moved back into town," Hope says as I flop onto the couch. It's been over nine months since everything occurred and it feels like a distance and distorted memory.

"Yes, he did, I am actually getting coffee with him this afternoon," I say.

"I saw the news this morning," she says, and I sigh. My chest tightens and I resist the urge to bury my head in a pillow and scream in frustration. Of course, she would bring this up immediately.

"Nobody is sure how he managed to suffocate himself," I grunt, and Hope throws a piece of candy at my head.

"Sit up, Faith. You clearly need and want to talk about this," Hope says, and I grumble and push myself up and grab the candy, the strawberry ones, she knows they are my favorite.

"You are going to think I'm a monster," I tell her bluntly and she raises a brow.

"Faith, you told me about the time you almost had to kill another child to save your own life. I will never view you as a monster, now talk to me about what is going on in your head. I could feel your gears grinding from the waiting room," she says.

Standing up, I walk to the far side of the office and grab a fidget thing from a bin and start pacing back and forth. The General is a subject we have been slowly working on, the rage I still hold towards him is blazingly strong. Sometimes I feel like I will never truly get closure on the situation. I thought throwing him behind bars would satiate my want for revenge, but even thinking about him still makes me see red.

"I wanted him to live behind bars for the rest of his life, I wanted him to know what it felt like to be trapped in a tiny cage with people he doesn't know holding the key. He deserved to know what manual labor in the sweltering heat felt like. I wanted him to suffer as much as the law could make him!" I rant.

"Why?" She asks me, the sound of her pen scratching on her notebook no longer irritates me.

"Because he locked us all in cells! We were trapped in cages as young as three years old. I wanted him to feel trapped and without hope," I snarl out. My adrenaline spikes and I don't try to stop it.

"So, an eye for an eye?" She asks me calmly.

"I guess, that doesn't feel like enough," I grunt.

"But now he's dead. He killed himself and left a note saying that he could never repent," she says bluntly, and I freeze.

"What?" I ask alarmed. My hands clench as if I still had a death grip on his one arm.

"He left a note, I'm not sure if the investigators wanted that to get out. But it said, 'I can never repent for what I've done,' and it was written on a napkin," she says, and I stop my pacing.

"He listened," I say softly.

"Pardon?"

"I told him he would never be able to repent for what he's done. I told him he was a monster and an abomination," I say solemnly.

"What do you mean by repent? I thought you didn't believe in a God," Hope says curiously.

"When I first arrived at the camp, he used to wear a silver cross on a chain. I never could forget the image of a man shooting a child in the leg as his cross hung on his neck. I don't believe in a god, but he did at one point and I wanted him to know that his God would never forgive him," I say bitterly. I listen to her pen pause for a few moments and then continue. Glancing over at her, I can see the wrinkles between her brows.