I burst through the door praying for a lie.
But all my cries were held by my breath.
The cell phone fell to the floor as I run to Her.
I feared She was dead too.
She lay there, face buried in chest. Palms covered with earth.
I tried to make up my mind, if She was alive, looking hard to watch Her breathe.
But my own breaths overpowered my sight.
My strength left my body, dropping me onto my knees.
She rose…slowly, body shaking with fright.
Strands of hair, dripping blood marked Her face, covering Her clouded eyes.
Her lips parted as if to speak, but fear silenced Her words.
She fell into my arms, allowing me to witness His fate.
Lead molded into His body…His soul….His mind.
I had never seen one so helpless…Him so helpless.
My insides twirled as my She tightened Her grip onto me.
I put my hand on Her head and let Her lay on my shoulder.
Her hands trembled on the wood. Her fingers bleeding. Her nails ripped off.
My feet shattered, I crawled to Him.
Leaning closer, His skin smelt of whiskey.
His eyes firing hate.
How could a wished moment create so much terror.
I had heart enough to touch Him, but She wouldn’t let me.
Her shaking hands covered my cheeks. Her speech held back by Her cries.
I read Her lips. Staying was not an option.
A bullet cold parted her mother’s brain as She raced to the car.
She dropped the gun and slowly walked towards the door.
Placing her foot on the body that lay to the side and pushing it down to lay on its back.
Wiping away Her existence, she folded the weapon into her mother’s fingers.
And poured herself a glass of whiskey…and drunk half of it…
Pouring the rest over her mother’s body, and letting the glass fall along with the last drop.
I took short breaths as my eyes looked upon the sin that painted the walls of my Home.
The scratches on the Floor. A woman being dragged.
A strain of blood where Her head tempted the strength of the bricks.
A child penetrated by her own father and beaten numb by her drugged womb.
Covered in blood filled filth and Laughing amidst the clouds of cocaine.
Sniffing what was left of the powder, stacking what was left of the savings.
Throwing the bloody clothes onto the couch and setting them ablaze.
Raving down the dusty road and watching the last of my past glowing in the dark.