cause the thing is, Seth and Ruth are mirrors. they're what each other could have been. had Seth accepted the help he was offered, he could have been Ruth; had Ruth torn herself away from the family and town poisoning her, she could have been Seth. but what difference would it make? they both make it out of the story, but they make it out miserable. Seth will never have a family again, and Ruth will never be in control again. they hate each other because they're the picture of what they could have been, and the bullets they narrowly dodged. Seth ruins what he built for himself and becomes the man he swore he'd never be. Ruth traps herself in the place she was so desperate to leave and becomes the woman she swore she'd never be. they can see right through each other and yet they just don't understand. I worked so hard for what you're getting, and you're throwing it away. I'd do anything to have what you have, and you're acting like it's nothing. idk.

the inherent tragedy of Ruth Anders. the daughter of a preacher. the daughter of a woman who sees herself as nothing more than the preacher's wife. Ruth, the sceptic, whose brother is dead and whose sisters hate her for leaving them at that house. Ruth, who collects lost things she can't fix, and abandons them when they disappoint her. Ruth, who loved two girls doomed by the narrative. Ruth, who failed to save Seth from the very thing he tried so desperately not to become. Ruth, who lost them all, in the end, even Caleb, who was never the same after everything. Ruth, more like her mother than she can stomach. Ruth, left behind, just as she had abandoned so many that needed her. Ruth, who was loved in a way she didn't deserve. Ruth, who had to compete with Death. Ruth, with the saviour complex and the ground falling out beneath her, believing so wholeheartedly that she was bigger and better than the world, only to find she held a smaller space than anyone. Ruth, the preacher's daughter, who never believed in God, because that would mean everything is out of her control. Ruth Anders. jesus fucking christ, man