Bringing a gun into a house changes it.
It doesn’t matter that it’s locked away, out of sight. There’s something tangible – a weight, a tension – that comes with the knowledge of its presence, which terrifies me more than him.
He explained the gun’s for protection.
What extra protection could he need? He has his expression, his speech…his fists. And if they’re not enough, he has ropes, chains, hunger and pain to get what he wants.
But I’ve seen where he keeps the key.
And that means that it’s not just the house that’s changed. I’ve changed too; finally I can allow myself to hope.