58. Just Breathe

-Autumn-

For ten years I’ve suffered under the hand of Marcus Hayes and yet every eulogy spoken about him mentions what a great guy he was. For years I’ve had to grin and bear it, so I’ll do it for another few hours before I get to put it all behind me forever.

His parents wanted to plan the funeral pyre themselves, so I let them. They were all cut up about it, sobbing in church and screaming as the pyre burned. But not me. His mother called me heartless for not even shedding a tear and I gave her nothing but a smile.

I have nothing to prove to them; today I washed my hands of them for good.

It’s early evening and everyone has left my house now, so now I’m busy cleaning up after them. Five different casseroles will go to a soup kitchen later, and the leftover sodas and finger food platters will go along with them.

I fall down on my sofa and look around the living room; I don’t feel attached to anything here. Nothing in here remotely feels like home. Everything reminds me of violence