Sometimes to understand the story, you have to go back to the beginning. Read between the lines. Evaluate all of the pieces to see how they fit together.
Instead of standing my ground when I came face to face with my own version of the devil two months ago, I ran away. Healthy? No. Effective? Temporarily.
Facing my past was a battle I had no interest in fighting, but it was stupid to think it'd come to anything else. I took what I wanted, claimed the love that I'd finally let myself believe I deserved. I forgot that things don't work out for people like me.
We don't get the boy and the house and the good life. We're the scraps. The leftovers that someone else already chewed up and spat on the sidewalk.
Jaden did that. He really did a number on me; he managed to top all the other trauma I'd endured in my life. Now he was here, living in the love of my life's house. Breathing the same air, in the same city, looking at the same moon I did every night.
So yes, I ran, but I couldn't stay gone forever. Alright, Portland. What new horrors do you have for me this time around?
