ses2002
The coffin sank slowly into the earth, ropes creaking as if they, too, resented the weight they carried. The pastor's voice drifted through the rain-measured, solemn, and meaningless. His words were foreign sounds that dissolved before they reached my mind. The only thing I could hear was the scream echoing inside my skull.
I hate him.
You hate him. Trust me, I do. But once-once-I loved him. He was more than a friend; he was a brother in every way that mattered. He was the one who cared when my own kin looked at me and saw nothing but disappointment. He protected me, stood beside me, believed in me when I had stopped believing in myself.
And yet, he was also the same man.
The first to hurt me.
The last to break what I used to be.
Rain poured without mercy, seeping into my coat, soaking the fabric until the water slid down and disappeared into the earth, turning the ground beneath my boots into thick, clinging mud. I kept my hands buried deep in my pockets. If I moved them, someone might notice the tremor I could no longer control.
He was dead. I should have been happy.
If he were still breathing, I would have killed him myself-without hesitation, without regret. Death had beaten me to it, stolen my revenge before I could claim it. That should have brought me peace. Satisfaction. Closure.
Instead, it hollowed me out.
Standing there, watching the earth swallow him whole, I realized something far worse than hatred had taken root inside me.
His death didn't free me.
It made everything hurt more.