JO.
the gun in her hand felt vulgar — evil, even. the events of the past few days had worn into her like stitches she could never shed, and for the first time jo truly understood what harm such a weapon could exact.
tonight, she’d been ready to rid herself of its violence. but as she stared down the black gunmetal, jo realized she was scared — so deeply and so crudely that it petrified her. as heart and mind beat against her, jo whispered:
“ i can’t do it. i don’t think i could sleep at night without knowing i had a way to protect myself. ….does that make me a terrible person? “
taylor watches as she holds the weapon in her hands, it almost looks too large for her petite fingers. a sigh escapes his lips and his tongue comes out to wet his lips. he didn’t know jo exceptionally well, but after six months of working with her he had gotten to know her well enough to know this was no easy decision for her. he can’t blame he for wanting to protect herself, not after what they had lived through, “ no — it makes you scared. and after what we we went through, what we SAW i think — i think we’re allowed to be a little scared jo –” his voice calm and smooth, as a hand gently slips over hers, offering her a small gesture of comfort; of understanding.
“ you don’t have to get rid of it jo, not if you don’t want too – there’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel safe –”











