The genie’s bottle had been opened, and there wasn’t a way to shove it back inside. Alison didn’t miss a beat and challenged his fumble in earnest. All he could do now is deal with the aftermath. His lips parted, and he thought of what to say.

But what could he say? How did he explain to one who wanted to get back at the perpetrator of her own agony… that he was the cause of pain, misery, and a lifetimes worth of suffering himself? That he was on the same level as them? The truth was necessary. One day, the bandaid would have to come off the wound that bled like a river.

But not today. Not with her. With a flushed face, he suddenly pushed away from the table and rose.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. A few poke dollars flew onto the table, and he chugged the rest of his lukewarm coffee. It was placed atop the bills. The chair slammed into the table. “But I can’t tell you.”

“Do what you think is best, Ms. Alison, even if it might be wrong. In time, perhaps you’ll learn. But never forgive for what they took from you,” he said. “Accept they are sorry, if they even are. But do not accept their forgiveness. I-they don’t deserve it.”

With that, he nodded his head. “Until next time.”

He walked way and did not look back. It was impossible to hide the red underneath his eyes, or the wetness that threatened to cascade down his face, but he rubbed it away and walked. He didn’t know where, and it did not matter.

It just had to be away from here.

---

Alison Everly