Free Unforgivable by Tina Wainscott Page A

night with a friend.”
    “It’s not your fault.”
    “Logically, I know that my sneaking away didn’t cause her to take her life. But I can’t help thinking...” She looked into the trees again. “If I’d been there, maybe I could have done something.”
    “There’s nothing you could have done. If she was determined to take her life, she would have found a way.”
    Katie nodded. “I didn’t even know what it meant then, taking one’s own life. I kept waiting for her to come back. When I went to stay with the Emersons, I would sit outside by the fence and wait for her at the end of the day. When the sun went down, I’d get so mad at her. It meant she wasn’t coming again.” She turned away from the sunlight. “I still hate sunsets.”
    “I don’t remember much of my mom,” he said, surprising her. “Just vague images. I was three when she ran headlong into a semi. The semi was in her lane.”
    “I’m sorry, Silas. I never knew that.”
    “No one knew. My father collected the insurance settlement and moved here. He didn’t want anything to do with the people in town. They caused him nothing but trouble, meddling in the ways he parented, telling him how to live. So he kept us out here away from everyone. It annoyed him that I had to go to school, because I couldn’t help him with his carvings. The truant office annoyed him, too. My father blamed me, promised to make sure I got to school.”
    “Why are you telling me this?” Why this, this very personal recollection from his life, when he wouldn’t even tell her why he was back in town?
    He leaned back against the column. “Because I’ve never told anyone before.”
    She felt her insides cave in, but she held her passive expression. “Oh.” She wished she hadn’t interrupted him when he remained silent. “Did you hate your father?”
    “He represented everything I hated. Apathy. Selfishness. Violence.”
    She winced. “He hit you, didn’t he?”
    “He slapped me around once in a while, made me sleep in the woods when he wasn’t happy with me. He handled everything violently.” He wasn’t looking at her now, but somewhere past her. “He took me hunting with him. I hated it. He had a place north of here, an old barn out in the middle of nowhere. He’d take me out for the weekend and make me shoot animals. Not just for food. He really enjoyed it, the killing part. The first time he let me shoot—made me shoot—he thought it was some kind of honor.” This last word he said with a sneer. “I couldn’t shoot the deer. It was standing right there. He jammed my finger on the trigger.” He crooked his finger, making her aware of his long fingers. “Hurt like hell. The deer fell. We took it to the barn and skinned it. I hated that place even more than I hated him. It smelled like death. My father, he enjoyed all of it. The power, mostly. That he had power over another living creature. What makes someone evil like that? What makes them enjoy taking a life?” 
    He wasn’t asking her those questions. His gaze was on the woods beyond. Still, she felt herself responding to the trace of agony that laced his voice. 
    To keep herself in check, she said, “I think I found that barn once. Dark red, with the foundation of a burned house nearby?” When he nodded, she said, “It gave me the creeps. I’d gone in a different direction that day, walking by myself. I never went that way again.”
    “My father loved that place. I hated it.”
    “I wish you’d had the kind of relationship my mama and I had.”
    His expression softened. “Thanks, Katie.”
    She wanted to thank him, too. For letting her talk about her mama for the first time since she could remember. For wanting to take away her pain. For making her feel more alive than she’d felt in a long time. That last part made her get to her feet.
    “I’d better go.”
    He took hold of her arm before she could move away. “Katie.” He took one step down, looking at where he held her