A Confession, Written and Not Given

I have practised this so many times the words have gone smooth, like a stone step worn down in the middle. That is the danger of a secret you keep well. It stops being a thing that happened and becomes a thing you do.

Everyone in this town has agreed on a version of that November, and the agreement is the town. The houses are mortared with it. You cannot pull one stone out without asking what holds up the rest.

Mara. When you read this, and you will, because I have never managed to keep anything from you that mattered, I need you to understand that I did not stay silent to protect myself. I stayed silent because the truth was a fire too, and I was fourteen, and I had already watched one fire take down everything around it.