DEVIL

2.2 | Wisdom

Wisdom; noun: "the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment; the quality of being wise."

Rafe quickly stood up after seeing Poetry begin walking away. "Poe, please just wait," he begged, to no avail. She continued walking until she reached the front door, where Rafe decided to reach forward and softly grab her wrist. Poetry turned around to face who she now knew was a murderer. "Please don't leave."

"You're a murderer, Rafe. Get that through your head," Poetry argued. Rafe shook his head rapidly, beginning to cry again. "I did it to protect my dad, Poetry. Sheriff Peterkin was gonna shoot him-"

"And you shot her. I really don't see the difference." Poetry turned to leave, but Rafe wouldn't let go of her wrist. "Let go of me, Rafe." Rafe brought his left hand up, cupping her cheek softly, as his right hand remained on her wrist. Poetry instinctively flinched, causing his already present frown, to grow sadder. "You have to understand me right now, Poetry."

"I can't-"

"Okay, then just listen for once," Rafe began, staring deeply into her viridian eyes, which were dulled by the whirl of emotions she'd been feeling. "If your mom was in trouble, wouldn't you defend her? Think about your older brother, or your best friend, or especially Eridanus. Even if they had done something wrong, would you sit there and watch them get killed?"

"No, I wouldn't. But-"

"Exactly, Poetry-"

"I wouldn't pull the trigger without reasoning," she cut him off sternly. "I'd either die for them, or I'd die with them."

"People respond differently, Poetry. The point is, you agree; you wouldn't sit there and just watch as they took their last breath."

"I wouldn't commit murder-"

"You don't know, Poetry! You weren't there, your dad wasn't the one staring down the barrel of a pistol, and your own sibling wasn't fighting against you," Rafe argued, finally raising his voice for the first time that day. "I'm not saying that what I did was right or rational, but I am saying that I reacted in the moment, and I reacted in a way that I knew would save my dad's life."

Poetry's eyes landed on the floor, suddenly concluding that it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. She didn't know what to think of the situation. On one hand, she knew how hard it was to see your parent nearly die – and, in her case, she had watched her dad take his last breath. She said she could never kill anyone, but she knew that Rafe was right when he said you'd never know, unless you were there.

On the other hand, however, Rafe took someone's life. Moreover, he was willing to let John B take the fall for him. He defended his father, but at what cost? "Please say something," he whispered, tracing light circles against Poetry's cheek. Poetry's attention broke away from the floor, and landed back onto Rafe.

"You're right," she croaked in a whisper. "I understand why you did it," she added. A large, radiant smile broke out onto Rafe's features, but soon faded upon Poetry's next sentence. "Which is exactly why you have to confess."

Rafe immediately began shaking his head. "I can't do that. You know I can't do that, Poe. I'll be sent to prison within minutes."