SCORNED WOMAN'S FURY

I don't know what happened, but when I came to my senses, I found myself at the cemetery. It was all unconscious, I did not notice where I was driving towards until I arrived at the destination. The family gate caused an expected pang of pain as I looked at Claire's final resting place. He image of her last words was ingrained in my mind, and the pain of her loss flooded through my heart, bringing her words to the front. I wanted to go to her and comfort her, even though she was just bones by now; try as I did, I could not come to terms with the fact that she was no longer with me. That my anchor in life had vanished, leaving me drifting out to the sea of reality that was barely tolerable.

Once again, a flood of tears poured from my eyes, but this time, no sound left my raw throat. My tears were ones of joy, but there was no joy to be felt in her case. She would never see the progress I made while taking revenge on those who harmed me. Despite her generally empathetic stance toward life, I knew she would have, without a doubt, had my back and helped me get my revenge. She had in the past brought it up, and I had brushed it off, not willing to consider the idea the idea of being in close proximity with those who cause me harm. She had been right when she said retribution was a contract sport, and revenge was best delivered personally. Too bad she would not be able to take part in hers.

I stayed parked outside the cemetery for hours. My feet felt like lead, and my heart even heavier as I tried to stop the tears that continuously slid down my face. Memories of us together blurred into one another like a rerun of my favorite movie, and for once, I was extremely grateful for the way my mind was wired. I enjoyed the soul-crushing memories that only prompted tears to continue flowing. I was ecstatic that we got to share these memories with Claire, and yet just as devastated that she was nothing but a great memory because I failed to protect her.

 All the relief and happiness I felt at my brother and his friends' demise dulled under the guilt of facing Claire's death. She would never hold or be held again, and that reality twisted the knife that I had been attempting to pull out even deeper. I did not deserve any form of relief or any form of happiness, not when Claire lay dead, unable to hold or be held. I felt the familiar throb return in my heart as my gut tightened and an invisible weight settled on my shoulder.

I sank into the pain and misery that I was all too familiar with, and with acceptance came a twisted form of relief. Pretty soon, my tears dried up, but I remained stuck in front of the steel gate. I watched the sun set and felt no inclination to remove myself. The longer I stayed, the more dangerous it would be for any woman alone at night at a cemetery, but I did not have enough strength to start the car, so I remained in a fetal position for a few more hours.

It was a bright light that finally dragged me from the catatonic state I was in. It took me a few moments to identify that it was blinding headlights. Sunshine was pulling at my door before I could single out the car. After a few failed attempts, she resorted to banging the window, demanding to be let in. Although my mind had shifted to the present moment, all my emotional and situational responses were still lagging. I knew I was miserable, and I wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, but I did not think I deserved that, not after allowing myself to feel happiness. 

Mercy joined Sunshine in trying to knock down my window. Seeing their worried faces triggered another emotion inside of me, and this one was worse still. I had fun in our sexual encounters and even once initiated intimacy. While Claire lay dead and rotting, I had some new experiences, and they were so great that they began to alter the way I viewed life. If there was somebody I was meant to be kissing, it was supposed to be Claire.

I looked on as they tried their best to break the window with their fists for a few minutes. I didn't notice Mercy disappear for a few seconds and reappear in the opposite window. I also failed to see as she desperately banged on the window using the stone with all her might. I did, however, feel as if a glass shard embedded itself in my arm, and that was when I felt like a fog lifted, and I was finally able to breathe again. Sunshine was frantically trying to clear the glass, and Mercy had somehow unlocked my side of the door. Sunshine grew more frantic after spotting my bleeding arm, and if I weren't in my right senses, I would have sworn I heard some sounds coming out of her.

Mercy had not yet seen my open wound when she wrapped her arms around me, pushing it deeper into my skin. The increase in pain boosted my focus until once again I was firmly rooted in reality, and the breathing exercises and mantras that I had learnt after more than a decade in therapy. There were no more tears to shed, just the sober reality that our work was far from done, and until all our grievances had been aired, there was no room for relaxation.

 A lot was said most of which passed through one year and exited through the other. I saw the familiar gate leading to our house. I found myself in a warm bath filled with bubbles. I was in me bed covered with my silk sheets, staring at nothing. I woke up the next morning right as rain. Long gone was my depressive episode, and in its place was a monster ready to go. I knew it was a temporary manic episode triggered by a traumatic past, but I felt grateful for it. I would have jumped right out of bed, but two anchors weighed me down, trapping me in bed. Both women had at some point climbed into my bed on either side, cocooning me in their warmth.