Jar of Hearts

“Anytime anyone googles her name, the Sweetbay Strangler case will come up, because nothing on the internet ever dies. She’ll have to start her life completely over again. But not from the bottom, lower than the bottom, clawing her way out of the hole she dug herself into.”

Geo knows that many people will perceive her five-year sentence as getting off easy. She’ll have to cope with people’s belief, which she partially shares, that she hasn’t suffered as much as she deserves to for keeping silent after Angela’s murder. Realistically, though, Geo understands that her time in prison is only the beginning of her punishment because of how interaction with the justice system affects people’s lives even after completing their formal sentences. This supplements the text’s depiction of Geo’s time in prison to create a grim and desolate mood. It also suggests that The Enduring Trauma of Violent Crimes can extend even to those involved in committing them.

“That life was over now. Everything she’d worked for, everything she’d created, the life she’d built on top of the secret she tried to keep hidden…it was all evaporating right before her eyes.”

For Geo, single events become pivotal, life-defining moments that affect her for years, taking away her control and traumatizing her. Angela’s death was one such moment, and it has haunted her for 14 years. Her arrest now becomes another. Ironically, Geo’s external losses after her arrest—her liberty, career, and fiancé—coincide with a new freedom to confront the past and grieve.

“She wasn’t surprised. She’d been waiting for this day for a long time, knowing on some level it would come eventually. And now that it was here, there was no more hiding. No more carrying the secret around like the unbearably heavy two-ton block of cement.”

Geo’s relief upon her arrest belies the outside perception that she went on with her life after Angela’s death as if it never happened and that she’d gone all this time without experiencing any consequences. Although she had a good career and a loving relationship, Geo was tormented by guilt and fear on the inside. The author uses the simile of a cement block to represent the psychological weight of guilt and secrets, positing that for Geo, five years in prison is preferable to the interminable emotional suffering that concealing the truth caused.

“The reality of prison—the bleakness of it, the sameness of it, the unrelenting fear of getting attacked—is horrific.”

Geo’s difficulty reconciling the fact that her prison bunkmate is both a mother and a rapist illustrates how life in prison changes a person. Survival requires that incarcerated individuals disconnect from their gentler sides. The implication for Geo is that her time in prison might continue the process that Calvin’s abuse and rape began, taking all that’s good in her and leaving behind an empty shell. She seeks ways to remind herself that there’s still good in her, such as helping Cat through cancer treatment.

“Geo, however, does not sleep. Just like she didn’t sleep the last time she was raped, all those years ago. She knows from experience that it takes a while before your soul comes back to you. And it takes even longer before your soul stops bleeding.”

Though Geo is referring to a rape that occurred in her past, this line comes as a revelation to the reader because of the narrative’s nonlinear structure. This technique places scenes from the past and present in close proximity to demonstrate the enduring trauma of violent crimes, including rape. By mentioning it at the end of the chapter without further elaborating, the author creates intrigue about what happened to Geo.

“Had you gone to the police the night you killed Angela, you might have saved three more lives from being taken.”

Kaiser doesn’t need to say this to Geo after he arrests her because she’s already haunted and guilt ridden by the fact. Psychologically, Hillier’s thrillers often revolve around moral dilemmas, and her protagonists are flawed enough to have complex internal conflicts. The deaths that Geo could have prevented add to her intense guilt, one of the conflicts she must overcome in her character arc. They also create dire stakes for the effort to capture Calvin after his escape.

“Nothing is more satisfying to humans than watching another person fail. Especially when it’s someone who has everything you don’t: beauty, brains, an education, a high-paying job, a rich fiancé.”

Jealousy is the source of several conflicts within the novel. Many characters alternately demonstrate jealousy and more positive traits, like selflessness, giving them depth and verisimilitude. Kaiser’s assessment of why Geo’s arrest created such a media frenzy characterizes him and his worldview, which is notably cynical about human nature. It also hints that he still places Geo on a pedestal, if only subconsciously.

“There are three versions of Georgina Shaw that Kaiser knows. The first is the girl he knew in high school—the sweet cheerleader who had friends in every social circle, and who got straight As. The second was the girl she’d become after she’d met Calvin—distracted, consumed, unavailable, selfish. The third was the woman he’d arrested in the Shipp boardroom fourteen years later—successful, mature, exhausted…and remorseful.”

These varying versions of Geo are responses to the trauma that Calvin brings into her life. Her initial response is to push Kaiser away. It seems like selfishness at the time, though Kaiser later realizes that she is responding to traumas she’s kept secret, like rape, murder, and pregnancy. The existence of these different personas also implies Geo’s compartmentalization, a trauma response that sequesters her guilt from the facade of success.

“‘He did use superhero names on all his correspondence,’ Kaiser says. 

‘That’s something he’d do,’ Ursula says with a laugh. ‘He always wished he was someone else.’”

Kaiser cautions himself against assuming that Calvin is responsible for the latest murders because he knows it could lead him to miss something important. Nevertheless, he misses the significance of the letters that Dominic writes to Geo while she’s in prison. Dominic’s use of pseudonyms suggests an effort to hide his identity from Geo, foreshadowing a connection to her beyond a stranger doing a social studies project. Ursula’s comment also reveals a significant aspect of Dominic’s character—his wish to be someone else—that develops his motive as a killer.

“That first night with Calvin was the first and last time the relationship felt beautiful.”

Geo says that her relationship with Calvin felt magical even after it turned violent. This suggests a distinction between “beautiful” and “magical,” with the former meaning as yet untarnished by abuse. However, the relationship’s intensity, caused by jealousy, sexual pleasure, and chaos, made it feel “magical” to Geo long after this. This depiction elucidates Manipulation and Control in Abusive Relationships and adds nuance to Geo’s understanding of love, both as a teen and in hindsight.

“The past is always with you, whether you choose to think about it or not, whether you take responsibility for it or not. You carry the past with you because it transforms you. You can try to bury it and pretend it never happened, but that doesn’t work. Geo knows that from experience. Because buried things can, and do, come back.”

In Geo’s case, “buried things” are a fitting and literal metaphor for secrets from the past since her secret revolves around burying the body of her murdered friend. She was able to keep the past from catching up to her for 14 years, but it eventually comes to light, both figuratively and literally. Geo now realizes that the only way to move forward is to acknowledge what she did and accept the consequences. Repression hasn’t worked for her, and compartmentalizing has kept her in survival mode, so now she must confront her past.

“Funny how she still does that. All the memories of her life are neatly divided into sections. Before Calvin. After Calvin. Before prison. And now, after prison.”

Geo compartmentalizes her memories and emotions as a means of self-preservation. By mentally dividing her life into sections, she can repress the memories and feelings associated with a time she doesn’t want to relive. This is only a temporary solution, and Geo will have to reconcile the disparate parts of her psyche to find peace.

“A relationship isn’t supposed to make you feel out of control; it’s not supposed to consume you; it’s not supposed to change you into someone you don’t want to be. But how do you teach that? How do you explain to someone who’s never been in a romantic relationship what a healthy relationship feels like?”

In hindsight, Geo has a better understanding of her teenage relationship with Calvin. Even at 16, she knew it was wrong that Calvin hit her, but she didn’t realize that many other aspects of the relationship were wrong too. Education about domestic violence was presented in simplistic terms, as if any relationship involving abuse would feel terrible all the time, making it easy for someone experiencing it to leave. To 16-year-old Geo, the intensity seemed like passion; the jealousy seemed like loyalty. Understanding why she didn’t know better back then allows Geo to begin the process of forgiving herself.

“His forgiveness means more to her than she realized. Now, if only she could forgive herself. She sighs inwardly. She knows she never will.”

Despite the fact that Geo and Kaiser haven’t really been friends since they were 16, spending time with him again reminds Geo of Kaiser’s many great qualities. He has always been kind and has loved Geo without demanding anything but her friendship in return. This is why his forgiveness means so much to her. Her inability to forgive herself is the primary conflict she’ll have to overcome to resolve her character arc.

“‘Andrew got married. They have twins. I saw him the other day, by accident. He was with his family.’ 

‘How’d he look?’ 

‘Terrible,’ she says, and they both chuckle. ‘But it made me realize that he wasn’t for me. That I was chasing the wrong thing. I’ve always chased the wrong thing.’”

Geo realized on the night Calvin raped her that their relationship wasn’t real love but something poisonous. Yet her insight into him being the wrong choice didn’t stop her from chasing the wrong person—a different kind of wrong person—in Andrew. Her epiphany here adds insight into what she’s learned in the past, suggesting that it’s human nature to keep making mistakes and having to relearn lessons. Geo’s realization also hints that she’s recognizing that Kaiser is right for her.

“And I’m learning that it doesn’t matter how sorry I am—and I am so fucking sorry—or how much time I spend in prison, or how many college degrees I have, or how much money I made…I will always be judged on the one terrible, horrific thing I did when I was sixteen.”

Geo spent 14 years after Angela’s death trying to erase what happened through academic and career success and a relationship with a man from an important family. Her accomplishments were meant to cancel out the horrible thing she did and her sense that because of it, she’s a horrible person. She’s paid for her crime through guilt, fear, and five years of prison, but she knows that none of those things made up for what she did because they didn’t set things right. She doesn’t know how to do that, so she feels powerless.

“Everyone has a single defining moment in life, something that thrusts them irrevocably into a new direction, something that affects them at their core, something that changes them forever.”

The image of Angela’s face, dead and covered in dirt, has haunted Geo ever since the night she died. Even when she stopped having nightmares about it every night, the guilt and traumatic memories remained. That night changed Geo’s life forever because it didn’t just alter her circumstances; it changed her on the inside, leaving her feeling damaged and irredeemable.

“‘You think Emily’s own biological father killed her, and Sasha. What kind of depraved—’ She stops, then gasps, as if hearing what she just said. ‘It was genetic.’ Her breathing becomes more rapid, and a light sheen of sweat appears above her brow. ‘That’s where Emily got it [her violence] from.’”

Several observations in the narrative subtly probe the idea that criminality stems from genetically inherited traits and is a fixed part of someone’s character. Examples include a comment about “how a criminal’s mind works” and discussions that attribute drug addiction solely to the presence of a particular gene (29). Because Dominic is Calvin’s son but also experienced abuse and neglect, his story complicates the nature-versus-nurture question.

“‘People like me shouldn’t exist,’ the Sweetbay Strangler said, looking over his shoulder. ‘You hear me, Kaiser? People like me should not exist.’”

The idea that criminality is genetic, explored throughout the novel, suggests that Calvin’s biological children are likely to become killers themselves. In this context, his statement here serves as a red herring—a deliberately misleading clue—by giving Calvin an apparent motive to kill Henry and Emily. Red herrings are a technique commonly used in mysteries to create plot twists. Additionally, Calvin’s statement implies that he has some level of moral awareness, adding depth to his character.

“Georgina is the woman he’s loved since he was fourteen, and nothing—no amount of years, distance, or criminal activity—can make that disappear. And it’s fitting, really. Kaiser has a history of picking the wrong women. Georgina fucks with his head and his heart, she diminishes his capacity for good judgment, she brings out all his protective instincts. The fact that she’s an ex-convict is the least of his issues with her.”

The fact that Kaiser recognizes Geo’s flaws and loves her anyway is part of what makes their relationship and history ironic. Geo never reciprocated Kaiser’s feelings, but she’s realized that she habitually chases the wrong thing—specifically, the wrong type of man. Kaiser is good for her, but she never wanted him. By contrast, Geo is bad for Kaiser—at least in the ways he lays out here—but he’s always wanted her. Hillier makes love just as complicated as the characters themselves.

“[S]he cried, for the loss of her child, the loss of her mother, the loss of Angela, the loss of the person she thought she was, and the person she thought she would be. She had taken a life and had now given a life, but neither act made up for the other. It was a loss multiplied by infinity, the grief of it all feeling like a giant hole that would never, ever be filled.”

Loss and grief are central aspects of Geo’s life and characterization, as reflected in the book’s section titles, which reference the five stages of grief—a motif that contributes to all the book’s main themes. This quote emphasizes that not all of Geo’s losses involved tangible things or people. She has also lost important aspects of her identity and of her vision for the future. Hillier uses hyperbole—“a loss multiplied by infinity”—and simile—“like a giant hole”—to create pathos and a desolate mood.

“Rape isn’t about sex. It’s about dominance and control. It’s about taking the best parts of a person and leaving the empty shell behind.”

The book’s thematic depiction of the trauma of violent crimes includes the crime of rape. Explicit narrative observations aim to dispel misconceptions and reveal the true nature and emotional impacts of rape. This quote argues that rape is about conquest and subjugation rather than sexual desire: The purpose is not to bring physical pleasure to the perpetrator but to harm the survivor. Geo’s experience shows that the act of rape has enormous emotional impacts, as well as physical ones—impacts that change her sense of identity and make her feel like she’s lost her soul.

“‘Because I loved you,’ she says, and it’s true. He doesn’t believe her, and she doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t know what love looks like. He doesn’t know what love feels like. Love—healthy love, the kind that doesn’t hurt or bruise or take away someone’s sense of self-worth—is like anything else that’s important in life. It has to be taught.”

At 16, Geo didn’t know what healthy romantic love looked or felt like, so she accepted Calvin’s abuse and saw his jealousy and temper as signs that he loved her. That experience helps her recognize why Dominic is unfamiliar with healthy love. Unlike Geo, Dominic doesn’t even have familial or platonic examples of love to shape his understanding, and Geo believes that this absence is ultimately responsible for making him a criminal. She’s therefore able to love him in spite of his crimes. Doing so is part of how she atones for her own harmful actions, and knowing she still has the capacity to give love where it’s needed is healing for her.