She takes a step out of the tiny house that she and her mother lived in for years when she was little. A house I lived in with them when she was first born, before I made the worst mistake of my life.
It takes everything inside me not to chase after her.
But I pulled myself out of her life a long time ago. I don’t get to come back into her life now that she’s an adult.
Liesel runs down the porch without glancing back.
She heads toward her car, and just before she reaches it, a boy approaches her. No, he’s all man. Tall, dressed in dark clothes, but his hair light as the sun. The tenseness on his face and vein bulging on his forehead says he’s pissed.
He stops her.
I want to protect her, save her.
I can’t.
This is the life she was born into. I have no way to save her.
But my Liesel is more than capable of handling her own with this man. She yells back, pointing her finger at him as she storms around him to the driver’s side of the car.
There is more yelling I can’t make out, before she climbs into the car. He catches the door right before she slams it in his face.
One tense moment.
He slams the door.
She drives away.
The man stands there a moment—watching her.
And then he turns and looks right at me.
I glare back.
I see what’s in his hand—a ripped piece of paper.
He must have torn part of the envelope when they were arguing.
I told Liesel to keep it a secret, but it’s too late now. Now someone knows.
Now she has no choice but to lie.
Lie, Liesel—it’s the only way to stay alive.
1
Liesel
I will kill you.
I read the words on the piece of paper in my hand. Who puts death threats in the mail anymore? It seems archaic and old-timey. There are so many better ways to send a threat: a phone call, a text message, an email.
An in-person act of violence really sends a
message too, if you really have the balls.
Why write a letter?
Because he’s a coward.