It’s a funeral home full of sinners. A family full of lies and hatred. A red blood stain, there for all to see.
He was my friend. He was my confidant. He was mine.
But that’s what happens when you get too close. You run the risk of having to sneak into a funeral home. You run the risk of having to find the remains of your dead loved one. You run the risk of getting caught as you stare at his dead body. So serene in death. Like it never was in life.
You run the risk of this.
There’s nothing you can do but stare. Stare and observe and make sure you truly are seeing things correctly. You run the risk of being right all along. You run the risk of falling to your knees in tears as everything finally hits you.
The situation. The circumstances. The knowledge that someone had to be full of so much hate to do something like this.
You run the risk of not knowing the extent of the damages to his body. Because you can’t bear to look anymore. You aren’t a coroner. You aren’t used to this kind of violence.
Or are you?
It depend on the situation. But I know that I’m not. I will be, though. I will be used to it soon. Once everything is settled. Once I’ve done what needs to be done.
Whether you come out of it unscathed or alive is also something you run the risk of. It depends on the kind of person you are. The kind of person you are can determine so much.
Just like your circumstances. Just like his circumstances. Just like my circumstances.
Nothing will ever be the same. Not without him. Not now. Not after all of this.
And so, as I exit the funeral home, completely undetected, I realize that there’s no turning back now. I have to go through with my plan. I have to.
Why?
Because I have nothing else left. Our life together was supposed to be my last chance. The last time I was supposed to experience this kind of upheaval. But it wasn’t. And now? Now is the time to finally, finally, retaliate.
They don’t suspect a thing. Not at first. But that’s okay. It makes things easier for me. It makes everything easier.
The funeral is as much a disgrace as the funeral home.
Fake crying. Fake sympathy. Fake tears. Wrong names. The wrong name. It’s disgusting and vile and all I can do at the moment it let the rage simmer and bubble up and maybe even fuel what comes next.
The end of it.
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