bethany g

“I found his gun, pocketed it, and—covered in the blood of the man who killed our parents, the first man I ever killed myself—I ran over to Dais. I remember her little tear-stained face looking at me, I think she was looking for something familiar, maybe? And I was crying, I didn’t even know I was crying until she took my face in her little kid hands and brushed them away, and even though we didn’t know for sure at the time that our parents were dead, I knew it. I could feel it, this change in the air like that Daisy was mine now. My responsibility”
― Jessa Hastings, Daisy Haites