She would only be more wary, she would only be more prepared. No man was ever going to rattle her brains again, striking her across the head. Not unless she stuck a knife through him afterward, or killed him somehow. After that night, a different silence had existed between them. Not only had she known Hal might kill her, he knew it too. She was a living daily reminder of his past. When she said, “This time you’ll go to prison forever,” it was as if she had screamed, “This time.” Up here in the East, while a few people knew about his prison record, it was not like living where things had happened, it was not like living where people who were involved, one way or the other, were around: people who chose sides, people who condemned. While she attempted to bury his past inside herself, she could not bury the present, that he might kill her. Hal knew that, and it was partly why he left. Laurel believed this for the three years she had been alone. She who was always so attuned to silence was being driven stark raving mad by it sometimes.
