She was glad they weren’t expecting her to talk, because she didn’t think she’d be capable of it right then. The experience had drained her. It was so much harder than she’d imagined to lay this story out on the table again. She’d learned Jesse’s character only too well while living with him, but after talking about it, voicing what he’d done to her, how many times he’d violated her, and in how many ways, she had no idea how she’d survived as long as she had. No matter how despicable the person, Misty never delighted in the end of anyone’s life, or even by the idea of it, but she had to admit that if Jesse were to die, she’d sleep a lot better at night. Sure, she felt guilty, but she wouldn’t take the thought back. She considered him the incarnation of evil, and, yeah, she wished him dead. She felt raw and exposed as she huddled against the leather seat during the ride down the dark road. The two men had chosen a restaurant outside town; was it so she could have time to collect herself?
