Hate was a complex emotion. It buried itself deep in my heart, almost to the depths of my very being. Feelings had never been something that I was real open about, I wasn't afraid to let folks know how I felt about things, but when it really came down to it, I kept my true feelings to myself. My heart and head had been run through the gauntlet of emotions since the day of the wreck; fear, despair, loss, and hate were my mainstays through it all. Fear swam in my brain daily that someone else that I loved would be taken from me without any notice or explanation, which was always followed by the thick blanket of despair that engulfed me as I dwelt on the fact that I'd never hear my brother's voice again. I hated Dalton. Not for who he was, he was a direct product of his upbringing, and that wasn't his fault. I placed the blame for my brother's death partly on his shoulders. I forced myself to be realistic though, and part of the blame fell on Jace as well. It's hard to be angry at someone that's died, but I managed it quite well. "How do you love someone that broke your heart? How can you wish with every fiber of your being that you'll see someone again, if only to tell them how much they hurt you? I don't know the answers, and that's part of the reason that this is so hard--so frustrating. Jace was my brother, and in many ways, my best friend. 10 years is a big difference, but it never seemed to bother either of us. Jace taught me so many things. The biggest thing, was how to be a true friend. He always tried to do the best he could for the ones he considered his friends, even if it cost him everything. He always told me that your family had to be there, they had no choice...but a good friend chose to stand by you, no matter what. If one thing can be said about him that the absolute truth, it was that he was the best friend a person could have." I didn't know how to forgive Jace for something that wasn't directly his fault. As much as I missed him, as broken as my heart was over it all, I was furious. He made the choice to get in that truck that night, knowing that Dalton had been drinking. Looking back, I hated myself for letting him go that night, for not begging him to stay home. He loved Dalton like a brother, and most oftentimes overlooked his faults that were so apparent to everyone else. It was easy to be mad at Dalton for it all, but I tried not to blame it all on him. My family hadn't pressed charges against him, even though several in the community had wanted Dalton charged with vehicular manslaughter. We just wanted it done with, something to forget.