‹ Prequel: Hymn For The Missing
Status: Completed
I'll Never Be The Same
Five
The next day went by so agonizingly slow; it felt as if I had gone insane.
They were holding me in jail until further notice, and my hearing wasn't till later on in the week. My bail was set at $5000.00, and it looked like no one would post it for me.
Is this how I would spend the rest of my life? Driving myself crazy in a small cramped cell?
The jingling of keys pulled me from my thoughts. The female guard unlocked the cell, and pulled open the heavy door.
"Your bail has been posted. Let's go." She said harshly, as if she despised whoever was saving me from this hell.
I walked as quickly as I could with a broken leg, hobbling painfully to the lobby; I wasn't allowed to have my crutch in here. I immediately saw my aunt, holding her arms out to embrace me. I walked over to her, and wrapped my arms around her frail figure.
"Thank you Aunt Rita. I really appreciate this." I said to her as I buried my face into her neck.
"Did you really think I was going to let you miss his funeral?"
It was finally the day of Michael's funeral. I had to stay at my aunt's house while I wasn't in jail, as my parents refused to let me stay at theirs. I really didn't blame them; I killed their only son.
I was waiting for my parents to pick me up. I guess you could say I was happy they were letting me go. At first they refused, saying that I had done enough damage and should leave the situation alone. My aunt, being the great woman she is, argued with my parents, saying that I was still part of the family, no matter what I did.
The ride to the cememtary was probably the most horrible thing I've ever thought of.
My mother wouldn't stop crying, and my father kept giving me dirty looks.
Knowing your parents hate you is the worst feeling in the world.
The preacher finished up the service, and they started lowering Michael into the ground.
My mother lost it, and she lashed out at me. I let her take the anger out on me, and I felt better knowing that she was letting it all out. She beat me into the ground, screaming and shouting at me.
It took three people to pull her off. I got up from the ground, bruised and bleeding, and walked away from the cemetary. I thought I would have felt some kind of emotion by that point, and it scared me that I didn't. I walked out all the way back to my aunt's house, and never looked back.
If you think feeling emotions is cruel, you should try NOT feeling emotions for a day. You'll be wishing you could after five minutes.
They were holding me in jail until further notice, and my hearing wasn't till later on in the week. My bail was set at $5000.00, and it looked like no one would post it for me.
Is this how I would spend the rest of my life? Driving myself crazy in a small cramped cell?
The jingling of keys pulled me from my thoughts. The female guard unlocked the cell, and pulled open the heavy door.
"Your bail has been posted. Let's go." She said harshly, as if she despised whoever was saving me from this hell.
I walked as quickly as I could with a broken leg, hobbling painfully to the lobby; I wasn't allowed to have my crutch in here. I immediately saw my aunt, holding her arms out to embrace me. I walked over to her, and wrapped my arms around her frail figure.
"Thank you Aunt Rita. I really appreciate this." I said to her as I buried my face into her neck.
"Did you really think I was going to let you miss his funeral?"
It was finally the day of Michael's funeral. I had to stay at my aunt's house while I wasn't in jail, as my parents refused to let me stay at theirs. I really didn't blame them; I killed their only son.
I was waiting for my parents to pick me up. I guess you could say I was happy they were letting me go. At first they refused, saying that I had done enough damage and should leave the situation alone. My aunt, being the great woman she is, argued with my parents, saying that I was still part of the family, no matter what I did.
The ride to the cememtary was probably the most horrible thing I've ever thought of.
My mother wouldn't stop crying, and my father kept giving me dirty looks.
Knowing your parents hate you is the worst feeling in the world.
The preacher finished up the service, and they started lowering Michael into the ground.
My mother lost it, and she lashed out at me. I let her take the anger out on me, and I felt better knowing that she was letting it all out. She beat me into the ground, screaming and shouting at me.
It took three people to pull her off. I got up from the ground, bruised and bleeding, and walked away from the cemetary. I thought I would have felt some kind of emotion by that point, and it scared me that I didn't. I walked out all the way back to my aunt's house, and never looked back.
If you think feeling emotions is cruel, you should try NOT feeling emotions for a day. You'll be wishing you could after five minutes.
♠ ♠ ♠
...Yeah...