Page 79 of Freedom’s Inferno

“I know it is,” Gloria said. “I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you she wanted you to be free. Even if freedom meant forgetting her.” Gloria smiled. “Forgiveness isn’t for the dead, honey. Forgiveness is the key that opens your own cage.”

I tried to answer her, but my voice came out rough. “Thank you,” I managed, the words too small for the weight of the moment.

My chest felt hollow, scraped clean, like something essential had been pulled out of me.

Gloria nodded, like she understood what I couldn’t say. She didn’t fill the silence, and I was grateful for that.

Lana’s thumb brushed against the inside of my wrist, grounding me in a way words couldn’t.

Gloria rummaged through a drawer before pulling out a small yellow sticky pad and a pen. She scrawled something across the paper, and held the square across the desk with two fingers. “In case you ever want to visit. She’s buried at Saint Agnes Cemetery, just outside of town.”

She extended the note toward me, but I couldn’t make my hand move. The sight of my mother’s resting place written in blue ink felt like something final, something I wasn’t ready to touch. The silence stretched a second too long, before Lana met my eyes.

Then, she reached out and took it for me. She folded the sticky note once, the adhesive edge sticking to her thumb before she tucked it into her jacket pocket.

“Thank you,” she answered, when I couldn’t.

Gloria stood, smoothing her skirt. “She wanted peace. I think she’s got it now. The rest is up to you.”

She walked us to the door but didn’t follow us out, she only watched from the hallway as we stepped into the front entry.

Lana’s hand brushed mine as we walked outside, and I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until the air hit me.

The rain had stopped. The world was muted and pale, wrapped in fog so thick the trees looked half-drowned in it. Lana’s eyes leveled on me, waiting for something—words, maybe, or the faintest sign I was okay. I wasn’t sure what I felt anymore. The letter, the rosary, the grave I hadn’t known existed… It all pressed down on me until the world didn’t have enough oxygen.

The fog spread across the parking lot, heavy and endless. The mist shifted around the dim glow of a streetlamp, bending the light until it bled. The world felt distorted and distant.

Somewhere behind me, Lana took a small step closer. She was warm beside me, offering the comfort of her presence, and part of me ached to take it.

But grief isn’t rational. Instead of reaching out, I did what I always had. I lashed out.

Chapter 31

Lana

“That was a colossal waste of time,” Charlie spat. He shoved the rosary toward me, his hand shaking. “Take it. I don’t want the damn thing near me.”

“Charlie‒”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “You’re the reason we came here in the first place.”

I froze, brain working to process the accusation.

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit, even though they weren’t meant for me. He wasn’t angry at me. He was angry at all of it. At the letter, at her, at the years that had stolen something he could never get back. Still, the sting landed.

“I’m the reason?” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My voice sounded sharper than I intended. “You’re the one who asked me to read the letter, Charlie.”

He turned toward me, his expression twisted, like he was caught between apology and outrage. “Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t have.” His voice cracked, hoarse and raw. “This is all bullshit, it’s… it’s…”

“It’s not fair,” I cut in, my chest tightening. “I know, Charlie. But coming here wasn’t bullshit, and we didn’t waste our time.”

The silence that followed was thick, trembling between us like a live wire. Charlie’s chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, his hands flexing restlessly at his sides. The fog hung around us, pale and shifting.

The muscle in his jaw clenched and released like he was biting down on whatever else he wanted to say. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, steadier. “I just need a minute.” His gaze darted past me toward the small coffee shop next door, the faint glow of its sign blinking through the fog. “I’m gonna grab a coffee. You want anything?”

The question caught me off guard, too normal after everything that had spilled out of him. I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He nodded once, still not looking at me. “All right. Just… wait here, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”