Rebel

Chapter 40: The End Is the Beginning Is the End

Dean Johnson grew up raised by a single mother and barely knew his father. He spent most of his life watching his mother's boyfriends coming in and out like a revolving door. She could barely support the two of them and eventually turned to alcoholism to cope. Like most of the residents throughout the city of Welch, she worked a shitty job making next to nothing. The entire early portion of his life paved the way for his depression and ultimately his addiction.

He was clean and kind when we met at only fifteen years old and in the first few months, he was my everything. I thought that we would stay together and I thought that he was going to be my happily ever after. But that was the very first time in my life that I watched drugs turn someone I loved into a monster. At first it was smoking weed here and there, but then he graduated to pills. He would take uppers and eventually downers. His addiction progressed and at first it only changed his body. He lost enough weight to cause some suspicion and our sneaking around to have sex came to a halt. He couldn't rise to the occasion anymore and even though he tried to deny the fact that he was popping pills on a regular basis and my dumb ass would believe him, the erectile dysfunction told me everything I needed to know.

The lying and pill popping escalated and one night as we were arguing outside the gates of the football field, I saw the true monster that he had become with my own two eyes. I even rocked a black eye for two weeks as proof. Things didn't get better like he said they would and he never tried to get clean. That's what always happened in abusive relationships and I was young and too afraid of being alone to see that he was just telling me what I wanted to hear.We fought each other and stabbed each other in the backs more times than I could count. It took two years and a miscarriage for me to finally walk away from him and that eventually landed us where we were today.

He had more than his fair share of demons. He and I were a lot alike when it came to that and it was easy for both of us to get caught up in what was the norm for living in Welch. In the end, those norms were his demise and after a few days, I came to terms with the fact that I didn't have anything to do with it. I got the strength to get myself together and get over it. I had a family now and I couldn't let all of that fall apart because of someone that wanted to take it all away from me. The least I was going to do was attend the funeral to finally bury the hatchet and make sure this door was closed and locked for good.

"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust," I said out loud to myself. I made sure my large black sunglasseswere pushed over my eyes as much as possible. I knew that people wore giant sunglassesto funerals to hide their tears and expressions of sorrow. They were a way to hide their pain, but mine were to hide my macabre expressions of relief and joy. As bad as it may have sounded, I was glad that he was did. He wouldn't have left me alone for as long as he lived.

My friends all gathered in as close to me as possible as people were beginning to leave the grave site before the solid black casket could be lowered into the ground. I wanted to stay and watch. I needed to see his lifeless body disappear into the ground and be covered with the dirt. Even after Danny and the rest of the crew asking me over and over again if I would be okay, this needed to happen. I needed to stay and watch this come to an end.

When the news broke that Dean had died, hearts broke all over town. All of them except for mine. At first, it was a simple overdose, but when the police found letters with one being addressed to me, people lost their shit and took that to create their own fucked up versions of the truth. I refused to accept the letter. I had said my goodbyes and gotten my mental health together quicker than I thought I would, so reading a possible suicide letter would have been a waste of my time and energy.

His imaginary hold over me had been broken and there was nothing left that could have made me feel guilty. This was another chapter in my life that had come to an end and any and all parts of it needed to be buried and gone. That included the remains of our child. It was a tough decision for me to make, but it was only right. He wouldn't have had to be buried alone. That was something that he always expressed a fear of when he thought about death. I had nothing left for him at the time of his death, but this was the one thing I could have done to avoid the feeling of being cold and heartless when I should have been. My heart just couldn't let me be angry and spiteful anymore.