“He is wounded, not dangerous,” Tara replied. “No soul is lost until its final moment.”
Despite her fear, Marina accompanied her. They traveled to a dilapidated building near the industrial district. The place smelled of dampness and despair. When Dustin Hale opened the door, Marina barely recognized him. His beard was unkempt, his clothes filthy, his eyes hollow.
When he saw Tara, he recoiled as though seeing a spirit. “You came to laugh at me,” he rasped. “You want to gloat. Leave.”
Tara stepped inside without fear. She stood in the center of the room. Even in her simple clothes, she carried a quiet authority that made Dustin tremble. “I am not here to mock you,” she said. “I am here to tell you that I forgive you.”
The silence thickened. Dustin stared at her. “Forgive me. After how I treated you.”
“Yes,” Tara said. “I forgive you for pushing me away in your pride. I forgive you because I refuse to carry resentment with me into eternity. But forgiveness is not enough if you do not let go of the bitterness that ruined your life.”
“Why would you forgive me,” he whispered as he slumped onto his mattress. “I do not deserve that.”