She shakes her head.

"I promised things to Ray," I say. "Anything he wanted, anything he needed, and I was there. I told him I'd do anything for the money, so I could give his daughter the ring she deserved, and he made me work for it. I'd come home at night with bloody knuckles and lie right to her face about how it happened. But I never killed a man. I never took a lie. He never asked me to… until after I got the ring. After we were married, he told me there was a rat that I needed to deal with for him. I didn't know what that meant then. Deal with them. But I do now, and I'm sure you do, too."

She nods.

She's trembling, scared about why I'm telling her this.

Good.

"He told me I still owed him, for the money he gave me for the ring, but if I did this one thing, my debt would be paid. So I agreed. And he looked at me that day, and he said, 'Ignazio, you have to kill your best friend.' And I couldn't do it. Rats had to go, but man… my best friend?"

Shaking my head, I slip the engagement ring in my pocket before closing the box again, leaving it lying on the bed. I stare at the top of it, trying to contain the emotion opening it conjured inside of me.

"I couldn't do it, but I guess Johnny could. It took me almost twenty years to return the favor, but I did it, finally, and now my debt is paid. And I learned a valuable lesson that day, one I'll never forget."

"What?" she asks quietly.

"You take out the rat before it can jump ship."

Before she can react, my hands are around her throat. I shove her into the wall, knocking her head against the plaster so hard it makes a dent. Her eyes bulge as she fights me, but I don't waver. I hold tight until her blood vessels burst and her heart stops beating, stealing her last breath.

I put her in the trunk and drive north, to the house tucked into the woods. I knock on the front door well after midnight, much to the dismay of Carter. He stares at me with disbelief before wordless getting the key to the incinerator, passing it over before going back to bed.

I'm not doing this to cover my tracks or conceal my crime.

Ray will figure it out.

I want him to.

I just want to make sure there's nothing left for the man to grieve.

He toyed with me.

I'll take his Baby Doll from him.

Grief doesn't go away.

You can ignore it all you want, shove it down or swallow it back, pretend it doesn't exist, but it's there. It stays there, lurking in the shadows, living way down in the depths, feeding off of anger, just waiting for the day it can rise up and take control.

No, grief doesn't go away, ever, because grief becomes a part of you.

It roots into your system, infecting your bloodstream. Grief pulsates in every beat of your heart and clouds around you with every breath from your lungs. Grief swims behind your eyelids every time you blink. It lives in every word you speak.

Grief is a fucking leech.

I know, because I'm grieving.

I ignored it for years, masked it with rage, but nothing I did made it go away. The moment I stopped and opened myself up again, dropping my guard to let myself feel, the grief seized hold.

The grass is an unnatural vibrant green that seems to glow brighter under the dismal gray sky. Water glistens from the ground, the wetness seeping through my shoes as I stand in it. I've been here for twenty minutes, I think. Twenty hours. Twenty days. Does it even fucking matter?

It's the first time I've come here in twenty years.

I know that for a fact.

The marble in front of me still looks brand new, the name etched on it bold. Maria Angelo Vitale. Fresh flowers lay on top of it. A few long stemmed pink roses. They were her favorite, I think. I'm not sure anymore. My memory's failing me. Today, it's her favorite flowers. Tomorrow, it's her face. I've already lost the sound of her voice. I've lost so much. Why couldn't I keep that?

The rage took it, I think. It got misplaced in my pursuit of revenge.

It didn't do her memory justice, like Ray said.

It did us all an injustice, but especially me.

It stole the only bits and pieces of her that I could keep.

I take a few steps closer, pausing right where I stood the day she was lowered into the ground. I'm wearing the same suit again.

I might burn it after this.

"Been a long time," I say. "A long, long time."

My voice is low but it seems to carry with the breeze. There's no one else here this morning, no one in this old cemetery, but it seems wrong, like the wind is stealing the words only meant for her. It pisses me off. Irrational, maybe, but since when am I rational?

I wanted to kill an innocent young woman simply for being born.

"I don't know why I'm here," I admit. "I don't know if you'd want to see me, or what you'd think of me if you were still here. I don't know, Maria… but I know I miss you. I've spent twenty goddamn years missing you, angry that you never had a chance… I've been so fucking angry that I forgot how to live. I'm trying to remember, but it's harder than I thought. I feel guilty. Guilty, because I let myself be happy again. It wasn't for long, but I felt it. It's easy to forget the grief, you know, when you ignore its existence. But it came back, and now I'm fucking grieving."

Pulling the diamond ring from my pocket, I stare at it under the dull sky before stepping forward, setting it on the headstone beside the flowers. I wonder who left them. Her mother? Her father? A friend who actually remembered things about her?