Her cold hands grace mine as I sit, still laying on the white sheets as I have been all day. Her makeup coated the bags and wrinkles she possessed as she finally took her steps back.
The family speaks to her with words of sympathy. Though all of them are dressed to impress instead of grieve. Not one of these people know me nor do they want to. I've never been anything but a puppet.
I observe her as she gets into her car and lights herself a cigar once again.
Bottle after bottle down the throat of the woman who birthed me. She'll go once again until she can't anymore. This time however, will be different. After she's done her daily drinking she will drag herself down here to beat my grave with harsh words and burn it with her addictions.
I doubt I'll cross her mind ever again. There's nothing she can see to remind herself of me again. She has drank her body raw, spilled her brains out from her ears, bloody and violently.
Someone will take care of her and to you I present a salute.
YOU will receive the scars, YOU will too die trying. To you I pass the torch and remember...
-Don't get too close
-and don't worry... She won't even remember your name.
~Jace
YOU ARE READING
Fractured Thoughts
Short Story(VERY PROMINENT TRIGGER WARNING. TOPICS DISCUSSED IN HERE COULD POSSIBLY BE VERY TOXIC. READ AT YOUR OWN WILL.) From the mass of my brain, things tend to come up from moments of darkness. This brings out the inspiration for writing and therefore, th...
