Morning comes quickly. I spend too much time sitting in the parking lot rereading the message.

I want answers.

I want answers too, but I don’t think I’ll get them—all the answers to too many questions. I can assume the answers will be painful, anyway.

Why did you not try to find me? Maybe he had finally gotten rid of me, and he was glad that he didn’t have to save Layla again. I’d been a noose around his neck that he was free ...