Elaine is sitting out front of her apartment complex. Charles glances my way. Flowers and “Sorry for your Loss” cards decorate her apartment door. They have a lot of friends who come and go, who hand her flowers or make her dinners for the evenings.

“Is she okay?” Charles asks.

Elaine is currently sobbing at her front door, hesitating to walk into her own apartment. I admit I don’t understand her grief, shouldn’t she feel relieved? Safe, even. Her husband was cruel. It didn’t happen every night, but every other night an argument would explode into violence. Chairs would fall to the ground with a slam, Lukas would shout at the top of his lungs. Elaine would shriek and afterwards she would flee the apartment, crying, sitting outside of the front door the way she is now. Shouldn’t she feel relief right now?

“Her husband died recently,” I tell Charles quietly.

“That’s awful,” Charles looks sad.

“He wasn’t really a nice man,” I tell Charles earnestly, “the two of them were always arguing. He beat her, more than she yelled at him.”

Charles fixes his gaze on me. While I am digging out my keys from the front pocket of my backpack. Charles wanders off, walking to Elaine. She looks tired, her hair isn’t brushed, and there are bags under her eyes. She notices the two of us; Elaine looks up with red puffy eyes.

“Do you two,” she pauses, clearing her throat, “need something?” she sounds somber.

“You seemed to be having a rough time,” Charles tells her softly, “Do you want to talk? I heard about what happened. Sorry if you didn’t want me to know.”

Elaines plucks at a loose strand of the carpeted hallway, “You boys are sweet.” she pauses, taking a moment to collect herself, “They wouldn’t.” her lips quiver, she trying not to cry again, “Detain me that night. I know that sounds silly, but I hadn’t checked. The department determined there was no foul play and sent me on my way. How out of it was I that I didn’t check? I bought the wrong drink?! Was I distracted? How could I?”

She blames herself?

“Accidents happen,” Charles tells her, “I know that sounds like the same thing people tell you all the time, but it comes from a place of understanding on my part. I had to learn that accidents happen sometimes, and it’s easy to blame ourselves, it’s much harder to recognize it can happen to anyone.”

Elaine looks at him, “Thank you.” she whispers quietly.

The current expectation of this situation is to sound concerned and be supportive, “Can I get you some water?” I ask her.

“You’re fine dear, you don’t have to worry about me,” Elaine smiles, “Cherish your friend.”

She stands up. Looks at her front door as if it is some great beast she has to overcome. She inhales, then exhales, and then disappears behind it. Her mourning makes me wonder how others will react to Karma in the future. She didn’t seem so free. I assumed someone in her position would have been happier, relieved, in fact. Why does she love a monster who clearly hurt her, physically, emotionally? I don’t understand it. I am left confused as to why she would blame herself when it was Lukas actions that killed him.

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“Should we head to mine?” I ask Charles.

Charles looks at the door. He nods, “Yeah sure.”

To be perfectly truthful, I find myself feeling agitated. This must be agitation. My chest, tightening. My ears, burning. It feels a little ungrateful that I gave her an out, a way for her to achieve freedom, to do whatever she has ever wanted to do that he barred her from doing. And yet, she doesn’t feel free. She doesn’t feel safe, instead she has taken the blame for his death. She’s not celebrating or starting her life over.

“You good?” Charles asks while I open the front door.

“I am fine,” I tell him, “Thank you for hanging out with me.”

“I owe you a proper chance to get to know you,” Charles tells me.

“Poor lady,” Charles states, taking off his shoes.

I felt sorry for her. My heart broke for her when Lukas treated her so poorly. I do not really understand why she would mourn someone like that. This is why Karma exists, he’s supposed to be the people’s guardian. The Pen has given me power I didn’t have before, to protect the people the police won’t protect. Why didn’t they protect Elaine from someone like Lukas? Why didn’t they help her when they should have? Why did it go this far? True Lukas was an accident, but it irritates me she blames herself and feels guilty.

“Quinn,” Charles has put our homework on the coffee table, he’s taking out a pair of glasses he doesn’t wear in class.

“You feel bad for Elaine,” I clarify, “Why don’t you wear those in class?”

“Yes, I feel bad for Elaine,” Charles looks away embarrassed, “I don’t want to get made fun of.” he tells me. He also didn’t want to go into my bedroom today, on the way home he told me this.

“Lukas was an abuser,” I tell Charles, “Shouldn’t she be happy he is dead?”

Charles looks paler than usual. “You think she should be happy because her husband is dead?” he asks me, “That was still her husband. They United for a reason. There must have been pieces of him she still loved.”

Looking back at my Dad’s urn sitting on the bookshelf, “My Dad used to be a very warm person, I don’t know if that’s just me coloring things in because I was a child. But at the end of the day, he grew bitter. He wasn’t the same person that I may have loved in the past. In truth, we were relieved when he died.”

Charles takes a second, he’s trying to understand. He cautiously puts a hand on my hand, “I am sure that was pretty difficult to deal with Quinn. But no one wishes for other people to be dead. I think that’s the way they cope because the damage hasn’t been healed.”

He’s not finished because he seems to recall a thought, “I had a little sister. Had. I say had because she passed away. My Mom still blames herself for the accident from time to time. Elaine reminded me of my Mom. An accident. There was no one to blame. No one is truly at fault. But people tend to feel better when they can justify something awful happening by blaming themselves. Because the idea of just an accident happening is hard to wrap around.”

I don’t see it that way, really. Lukas was obviously the abuser, and he had obviously been allowed to get away with his behavior. People like Lukas rarely change. If people are going to blame themselves for being liberated, then what is even the point of fantasizing justice for them?

Charles pauses, “It’s funny because my Dad doesn’t understand why my Mom blames herself, when the other driver lost control of their vehicle in the snow. And even then, the other driver wasn’t necessarily at fault either. It wasn’t like their intentions were sinister.”

“I just don’t see how it isn’t natural to want the person who did the wrong, to face repercussions. Did the driver at least die as well?”

Charles scrunches up his face. He looks uncomfortable, “You say some really morbid things sometimes, Quinn. I feel bad because I should have reached out to you sooner. I let the other kids create a narrative for me about the type of person you are and I never decided that for myself. Does saying stuff like that usually get other kids to leave you alone?”

“Well, you ignored me,”

“I guess that’s a good point to ma-

*Bang*