If it wasn't going to happen now, it was going to happen later

Content warning: death, abuse

Photo by vlanka

It all started with a kiss that led to a stab or two or three, and now it turned into a funeral. A funeral that probably shouldn’t have happened but it was going to happen at some point. If not now then later.
And honestly, I can’t feel an ounce of regret or remorse or pity or even sadness at this interesting turn of events. Nor do I feel happy or glad or relieved that I’ve finished my job. But just empty about it all. If it was not going to happen now, it was going to happen later. A later that probably shouldn’t have happened so soon.
“He was a responsible young man,” his mother droned on, “always doing his work, always helping out whenever it was needed, always doing something kind for someone…” I suppressed a yawn knowing how inappropriate that would be at a black-tie event.
“It’s simply a pity that he had to go so soon,” she said, her voice cracking at the right moment. I tapped my fingers against my thigh, black upon black. Bullshit upon bullshit.
“And, oh God, I’m so sorry for letting this happen to you. I should have done better as a mother.” I tried hard not to laugh at her dramatics.
“There, there, Ms. Nguyen,” the pastor said, patting her back in a comforting way. “Would you like to-”
Ms. Nguyen shook her head, before making her way down the little stage to her proper place up front, tears already gathered in her lying, brown eyes.
“Okay, would anyone else like to talk about Jason?” he boomed to the little audience. I knew that I should go up there and talk about him. After all, it was my responsibility to do that for him considering that I was his so-called girlfriend and all that. But something in my body froze. Sweat started to gather around my pits, and I started shaking like a little leaf ready to fall. I tried to slow my breathing, but it was hard when the edges of that certain memory began to creep into my head. The one that caused me to hate stages forever.
Breathe Cindy, I told myself, just fucking breathe. 
“Okay, if no one would like to say anything else then I shall conclude the ending prayers…” everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes listening to the monotonous, useless prayer. Everyone except me. I still bowed my head like everyone else, but I kept my eyes open because if I closed them for just one second that panic attack will surely come.
“… pray over his soul that is receiving the blessing of God right at this moment….”
For a moment, I let myself miss him. From the way his infectious laughter sounded to his tousled black hair. From his intelligent brown eyes to his kindness to others that weren't me. From his pink mouth that could say many hurtful things that last a lifetime to his hands that were as soft as an angel’s wing but was actually devil like in nature. That lasted only for a moment though before the panic wrapped around me again.
“Amen.”
I rushed out of that suffocating tomb-like space wanting nothing but air and a way to stop those terrible memories from coming around. But it was too late, for just as soon I stepped outside, I broke down and sobbed. Love and regret and relief and pure hatred went in and out in and out of me mixing together in a melodious way.
For I was free, finally free from that fucking terrible monster.

And now the weather:

You Give Love A Bad Name - Vintage Blues - Style Bon Jovi Cover ft. Jennie Lena

An angel's smile is what you sell / You promise me heaven, then put me through Hell / ... / Shot through the heart / And you're to blame / You give love a bad name

~ Stacy N.