Chapter 19 - The Box of Matches
That evening, after the sun dipped below the mountains and painted the sky in streaks of violet and gold, I walked out to the small fire pit behind the house.
I carried a small, heavy iron lockbox. Inside were the last remnants of my former life. The note my father had pinned to the oak tree. The blood-stained piece of my jacket I had wrapped around Leo's shivering shoulders. And a single photograph of my parents and sister from a Christmas party a decade ago.
I built a small fire, watching the flames dance in the cool evening breeze.
I opened the box. I didn't feel anger anymore. Anger was a heavy burden, and I was done carrying it. I took the note, the jacket shred, and the photograph, and tossed them into the center of the flames.
The paper curled and blackened. The fabric smoked and caught fire. I watched the smiling faces of the people who had tried to destroy us turn into ash and float away into the night sky.
May you like
"Goodbye," I whispered into the darkness.
I closed the iron box, feeling a physical weight lift from my shoulders. The ghosts of the Adirondacks were finally dead.
