You can put down the rock, the burden you carry.

I walk along this road until I am part of the storm. Numb to the wet. Numb to the cold. Numb to the truth about the promises. And for the first time since I killed my child I am at peace.

Please let me go. Let me walk away. I feel the words in my head like a prayer.

Please, they whisper. Don’t look for me.

I don’t know how long I walk, or how far, when I see light coming from behind. I turn to find headlights moving slowly toward me. They’re high and bright. It’s a truck of some kind. Tall but also long. And in spite of the trance I am in and the peace it has brought, I feel both of my arms rise above my head and wave wildly, the purse still clutched in one hand.

The truck pulls in front of me and comes to a stop.

I walk closer until I am inches beside the passenger window. There are two figures inside.

I make a shield with my hand, just above my eyes to keep the rain from my face. I lean in closer and see the window come down a few inches.

“The storm’s coming, you know—you shouldn’t be out here.” It’s a man’s voice. Friendly. But also urgent. “Do you want a ride to town?”

Another voice calls from the truck. The window comes down a few more inches.

The voice of a little girl. The face of an angel.

“Well? Do you or don’t you?” she asks.

I stare at her, at her blond hair and bright eyes, and beyond her at the man.

I stare at her, this young girl, and, God help me, for a split second I see my dead child.

And then I see this road for what it truly is. A mirage. An illusion. And the words that caused my legs to carry me away from my life—liars. Their promises nothing more than cheap deceptions.

The guilt will never leave me. I will never leave my family.

“Yes,” I say.

The passenger window of the truck closes and the girl disappears. But now I hear the click of the locks opening. I reach for the handle of the door to the second row, desperate to be out of the storm. Desperate to get back to my family. To forget what I have almost done. This storm might have killed me. The wind and the cold. Then the guilt would be theirs to carry. John, Nicole, Evan. How could I be that selfish after everything I’ve already done to them? I will never think of it again.

I climb inside, close the door. Relief fighting with despair.

And before I can clear the rain from my eyes and see what’s really before me, I hear the click again. The doors locking.

Locking shut.