the faces of the people he had killed.
“I gave her a perfect life,” one entry read, “because I took away the one she was meant to have. I am her savior and her destroyer, and she can never know the difference.”
The room felt like it was spinning. The man who had tucked me in at night, who had comforted me when I had nightmares, was the very reason I had those nightmares to begin with. His entire life had been a performance of penance.
I looked around the
