Chapter 26

It’s been three years since my last entry. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I’d ever write again, but over the weekend I found this old journal, and my last entry broke my heart.

I was lost then, after losing Christina. Confused. Devastated. Broken.

I’m still lost, devastated, confused, and broken, of course. I’m a mother who’s lost a child. A wife without a husband. I am a shell of who I once was, and I know I’ll never get that part of me back.

But…I’m okay. I’m breathing. Day by day. I’ve turned my pain into fuel for the cause, rather than shutting it down and running scared. The man who killed my daughter is in the ground in the woods surrounding our house. No one suspects a thing.

Another important update since I wrote last: after Chrissy’s death, it took me a long time to decide what I was going to do. I wanted to quit. I wanted to back down and lick my wounds and hide. I haven’t slept well since that day. Since the day I learned that she was dead, and it was my fault. Most people would give up, would back down and realize they’ve caused harm to the people they love.

But I’m stubborn, remember? Few things keep me awake at night like the knowledge that I caused my daughter’s death. But the one thing that has? The fact that if I give up, if I run away with my tail tucked, they win.

The bad guys, the monsters, they win.

Silence of the good is the weapon of the wicked. If I sit back and let this happen, let one bad man stop me from doing so much good, then he has won.

I will never live down the guilt over my daughter. If I could bring her back, selfishly, I would walk away from this life in a second, but I can’t. The only thing that gives my soul a bit of respite is knowing that I am still doing the one thing I have control over.

I won’t back down. I won’t stop what I set out to do. To kill the rapists and murderers and abusers. The fathers and brothers and husbands and friends who wield their power and strength to hurt those who can’t defend themselves. These last three years have reminded me of why this is important. Why what we do matters.

We have saved more lives than we’ve taken. Women, children, future women, future victims. I’ve never laid a finger on anyone who didn’t deserve it, and that’s how I sleep at night, knowing that I am a god in my own right, making life better in the only way I can.

I used to get so overwhelmed when I looked at all the evil in the world, wondering how any of it could ever be fixed or made better, but I’m realizing now that even if I can’t make it all better, I can make some of it better for a handful of people, and that’s enough. It has to be enough.

As much as it kills me, I haven’t spoken to my family in years. It’s too big of a risk. If it means they have to hate me in order for me to keep them safe, then so be it.

Bridget is the only one I have no choice but to keep close. If I don’t, she has no one. I have no idea where she would go, and I’ve heard too many horror stories now about those sorts of situations.

She will stay with me and out of trouble, close enough that I can keep an eye on her until she’s old enough. But I’ll hold her at arm’s length, never letting her get too close because it would only make the inevitable hurt worse. Getting close to her will mean the day I send her away will break both our hearts, and right now, I can still hope to only break mine. Once she’s old enough, the second she’s ready, she’ll have to go, too. Far away from me. Should anyone ever come for me to punish me for what I’ve done, I need them to believe I don’t care about her.

But I do, diary. I’m watching this little girl grow up, and she reminds me so much of her mother. Sometimes I just sit and watch her, and it’s as if we’re in a different time and place altogether. It’s a cruel sort of bliss in that way.

Cole and Bridget are safe here, protected by Edna and me, as well as Jane, Lily, and Cate. The kids can never find out what we do, though. No one can.

Well, I suppose that’s not true. Edna knows everything, but she wants no part of it. She’s too soft for this life. But she’s a better mother to my granddaughter than I could ever be, and that’s more than I could ask for.

She takes care of my home and my family, while I take care of the world. Take care of making sure someday the world will be just a little bit better for Bridget. Really, I think that’s all I’m hoping for.

Isn’t that what we’re all hoping for? To leave the world a little brighter for our daughters? A little safer?

As I get older, as I see more, it’s difficult to remember that. To remember why I do this, especially on the hard days when all I want to do is scoop Bridget up and run away with her, take her someplace where I can protect her forever. Where it’s just me and her and none of the evil that exists in the world.

The logbook was Lily’s idea, and I have to admit, it has helped. I pull it out from the secret place whenever I need a reminder. Names, reasons. Proof that I’ve done some good with this one, simple life.

But will it ever be enough? If I’ve saved the world and it’s cost me my soul?