Chapter 2

We continued to see each other for a while after that first encounter; we were not mutually exclusive at that point. However, we eventually decided to take a leap and give us a chance.

Sarah had quickly become the greatest thing to happen to me, she allowed me to be myself, a luxury I had previously not had with other people.

The constant need to masquerade as someone/something who you never were or would ever be, just to please someone, that in the long run, would not stick around.

I opened up to her, regarding everything, my past most importantly. Which allowed me to keep those demons I had, scratching the surface, from tormenting me.

I was able to evolve into a better me, someone that could in fact be considered 'normal', a functioning part of society, non-beholden to my past.

With this, the territory of a 'normal relationship': dates, nights in watching movies, finally seemed within grasp and attainable at that. Everything was perfect for a couple of months.

The lack of a job would always present potential hurdles for any relationship. I would like to think that I am smart enough to achieve a high position in any occupation.

Issues standing as obstacles to this would be the criminal record that hangs around my neck, tightening and gripping my jugular. The drug possessions and GBH convictions apparently records as a distraction from my flora like CV.

19th December 2018. The day that had instigated my gradual decline into my eventual ruinous form.

One of the major pillars of my life eradicated, blown from existence like a dandelion in a hurricane – she was scattered out of sight.

My grandmother, who had raised me from my initial despair and had given me a home; had died. She became something to believe in, a certain light collapsing through the endless abyss of life that every child need, especially those of whom were raised by the darkness.

An extra security belt to restrain me in my seat when the inevitable car crash would occur – had been removed.

She had taken the place of my ill-minded biological mother and fulfilled her duties as such, which was hardly her burden to bear. Without her, both my brother and I would be without refuge or in fact clean sheets or clothes.

She delivered us from satins tight grip and propelled us into an uncontaminated, incandescent future.

Nevertheless, no matter how attentive, affectionate, or gracious, it becomes apparent that they will be unsuccessful in repairing any early, trauma provoked mental damage.

Unable to speak to anyone or accurately assess the magnitude of yet another family member leaving, I abandoned myself within isolation.

Unable to process the pain I felt after my grandmother's passing, I drank heavily, again. Pushing everyone away. I was left alone, silently stirring within self-inflicted solitary, limbo – deep within my own mind. Leaving myself there for no other reason than self-harm.

Most people are under the impression that 'self-harm' only extends to the physical infliction of pain. Despite this, I personally believe that emotional self-harm exists.

From a young age I have always had, perhaps too much empathy for people.

In order to punish myself I would take on their problems and process exactly how they were feeling, every inch of pain. Whether it be physical or emotional, whether it be biological, or trauma caused, I could feel every cell of their body, mind and soul ache. Perhaps, in turn, damaging my psyche even more so.

When my grandmother passed, the flood gates opened. Although I attempted to push everyone out, I allowed all emotions in. causing the damn, filled with emotions and pain, to overfill without release.

It was not long before the walls of the damn would begin to crumble, yet rather than opening up to someone to relieve the pressure – I befriended more units of alcohol and a larger variety of narcotics.

Suspended in a void of pain and misery, surrounded by a lake of despair and sorrow, accompanied by mountains of drugs and streams of alcohol, was when I truly fell headfirst into my decline of morale and character.

I found myself drifting. Unaware of my destination, completely perplexed on where I was or where I was going – stranded, alone.

Nobody could grasp the torment I was facing, and only I could pull myself from this self-inflicted suffering.

Sarah barely saw me for the next week, on the lead up to the funeral. Completely isolated, I found my only solace and tranquillity to be located within the confines of a glass bottle, or within the refuge of the harsh hit instigated by narcotics.

Dazed and confused, my emotions slowly began to fade, being drowned out by the background noise I now had bellowing throughout my mind.

These days quickly rolled into each other, only seeming to give domain to rest bite for my mind and soul to be taken.

Gravitating from one bar to the next, only being intercepted by dealers that I could locate, my main ambition was to forget my life; forget the abusive past or the shit hand I was dealt. For a while it worked a treat.

Submerging in on my own troubles and hardships - like an origami folded hat, I found myself overlapping myself and repeating the days mistakes over and over.

Most of these days were nothing special, a few brawls scattered amongst the hours, accompanied by a companion or two, and the occasional woman beside me.

Faces never seemed to stick by long enough, or they did, and I was too inebriated, every waking, moment to tell the difference.

As the day came, to drag myself to the dead infested memorial, it began to sink in. the realisation that had been kept at bay for the last week. The only cure? More alcohol.

This time a cocktail infused by my (at the time) two favourite ingredients – mouthwash and vodka.

Starring at my worn and torn body, the cuts and bruises, the scars and breaks, I could see now why no one loved me. I was a mess.

But, reflecting now is a pointless endeavour that would neither change the outcome of the story nor the scars left by it.

Stepping out of the shower, with a cleanly shaven face and hair, I found it to be only right to take yet another swig of vodka, followed by a chaser of mouthwash.

The suit that had been hanging by my wardrobe since the news of my grandmothers passing, was still hung from the bar that suspended it from the ground. Swaying there lifeless.

Only given movement through the will of the wind cascading through my open window. I stared at the lifeless skinsuit for hours.

Unable to move. An overwhelming sensation of being mocked by the comatose suit that draped before me rushed through my mind.

Covering myself in the blackened suit, each limb at a time, the hairs of my body brushing against the course material sent chills down my spine.

Standing there, staring at my own reflection, as I fastened my top button and tightened my tie, my eyes lay glossed over; almost empty.

Climbing into a blacked-out car, with a dead corpse in the boot gave me anxieties and left my mind in a state of ambiguity over it all. Michael's black hair tidily placed behind his ear, in a sweeping gelled formation.

The black suit and white shirt combo appeared to be tightly fit around him, perhaps complimenting his overall physique. Brown eyes shortened by the lids that covered them, pupils barely poking through; allowing for the tears that were edging from his ducts.

His 6ft.1 stature, lent to his disadvantage within the tightly packed hearse, crumpling his body into a foetus position. His poorly decorated hands exposed by the short sleeves of his suit jacket that were inadequately fitted.

Situated in the middle of the back seats, Sarah. After moving from the left side of the car to the right. A black summery like dress, sat 3 inches above her knees, divulging her tattoo covered thighs. Pale complexion, body sheltered in tattoos and the black dress she wore gave her beauty the ultimate compliments.

A limited amount of makeup was applied, but just enough to give herself a boost in confidence. Mirror like shades sat situated upon her nose, edging downward revealing her abyss blue eyes.

The whole system surrounding the transportation of the dead seemed crude to say the least. My grandmothers dolled up dead face - a plastic smile covering the empty carcass that lay locked within a wooden cocoon drove me irate. T

he fake drawn on smile was certainly not for my benefit or hers, so who was finding this absurd notion comforting.

The flashes of scenery located outside of the car were a haze of motion, unable to be registered or processed.

"David?" my brother asked to get my attention.

"David? Are you okay?"

"Yeah I. ermm. Yeah, I'm okay. Just trying to focus on literally anything else if I'm honest. What about you?"

"Yeah, no, I'm okay. Just getting there y'know? She was an amazing woman, wasn't she David."

"Yeah, she done more than was ever expected of her, and then some."

I glanced a smile at him, attempting to reassure him that things would not be as dire as they appeared in this moment. But he knew that I was not handling the situation well.

Maybe I just was not as good as I thought at faking my emotions. Then again, my mind seemed to be more riddled with disgust and outrage than sadness and despair.

Arriving adjacent to the destination designated for despondency and despair, icy tremors spawned on the surface of my skin, slithering their way down my spine.

My thoughts left empty and desolate, unable to truly grasp the emotions that were expected of me. Michael and I, walking shoulder to elbow – he is being 5 inches shorter than I; chins being dragged to the ground through the weight of the occasion.

The wooden double doors of the church stood, towering above us as we held the coffin to which our grandmother lay. The stress of the occasion was added to by the mass of the coffin, causing tension in the muscles of the 5 men and I carrying it.

My grandmother was not a slim lady, however as my grandfather use to say: 'it was to contain her large heart' – sweet yet seemingly littered with abusive undertones. The searchlights of eyes, pinning our bodies centre down the tedious church walkway, left the option of running void.

The pity filled eyes served us nothing to our advantage, only delivering a crippling handicap.

Sat front and centre: me, my brother and Sarah. I was more than surprised that she even decided to turn up to this event, never mind sit beside me comforting me. The emptiness of the church was quaint, giving a sense of spirituality rather than the indecency of a parade.

The momentarily spiritual sensation of the event soon became short lived, as the wooden doors; that only moments ago we had carried our dead grandmother through, became under siege. Throwing open the doors, there she stood.

Our adult, poor excuse for a guardian, Leonie – our mother. Styling her signature look – blacked out reflective sunglasses and tight jeans, accompanied by whatever t-shirt she had worn to seduce the male from the night before.

Her medium-long blonde hair still tattered from the rough night out, correlating to the rough pain going on inside her head. Her strutting walk, was less of what was intended and more of a wobbling walk, revealing her true lack of sea legs.

Maybe I was overreacting, I mean her mother had just died. Grief affects us all differently.

She took centre stage, bellowing words of past memories from the podium side by side her dead mother. She even began to cry which was a first for me.

"My mother was, well, the best. Even becoming a mother to my boys when I couldn't. not only was she the strongest person that I knew, but the most courageous. I just wish I had more time with her."

My mind began to smirk at her final words, finding them to anger and humour me simultaneously.

You had plenty of time with her, only now that she is gone do you feel bad for not taking the time. My heart and brain in complete alignment; finding it ironically infuriating.

"I hope wherever she is, she is happy with my father. God knows she deserves it. to be at peace and happy."

Potentially the most I have ever agreed with that woman. Finally, after years of idiotic decision making and poor will power, she and I found common ground; all it took was my grandmothers' death.

"David?"

Sarah clenched my arm, holding me into her.

"David, are we ready to leave?"

"Yeahh. Yes of course."

Standing as a trio, we edged toward the exit, a trivial attempt due to the blockade preventing the intended departure. Her stature giving off the impression of guilt. Leonie embraced us in her arms.

"Boys. My beautiful boys. I- I dunno what to say."

She pulled away, while clasping my left shoulder with her right hand. Tears still coating her eyes.

"I promise, I am here for you now. We are all we have left in this world."

"Actually Mrs." Sarah attempted to interrupt.

"Oh, behave. It's Miss, and who are you? Wow you're pretty."

"Miss Scotton then. I'm Sarah, David's girlfriend."

"David, you never mentioned you had a girlfriend?"

"And when would I have mentioned her, mother? Between never seeing you and – and focussing on my own life?"

"Oh. Yeah of course David. I'm sorry."

Overwhelming, the sensation of confusion and sadness left a guttural pain – a sinking feeling that my stomach could not avoid. Gravity pulling on my emotional chords that were connected to my stomach, dragging it towards the pit.

Elevated only by the touch of Sarah's warm adopting palm caressing my skin. Her free left hand had also accepted my brother's wrist, saving us both from the moment we found ourselves entrapped within.

Leaving the church, we assumed the action would also abandon Leonie within the confines of the holy structure. Similar to real-life, the leech clung to our scent and proceeded to drain from us.

Every step we took brought us closer to the site of our grandmother's final resting place, the location that she would lay for an eternity. Decomposing, her perfect skin becoming the ideal biodegradable component for the machine that is the life cycle.

A collective of peers and family members stood, suffocating her gravesite. One individual remained wearing white, anti-camouflaging from the sea of black dresses and suits, his importance to the faith, and most importantly to himself, clear and easily visible.

"We are gathered here today to witness the sending off of Mary Scotton-

The rambling of his voice made the ceremony unbearable. Unable to continue the façade that I was a part of, I removed myself from the collective, positioning my body behind the sea of black.

Sarah's body was unmoved, the expectance of her pursuing was underwhelmed by her resilience and need to care for others. Michael had been affected strongly by Mary's passing, his only memories of a mother were generated by her care, as a result he had lost his mother.

He needed the strength of Sarah to prop him up, to prevent his deteriorating.

I remained there; eyes shielded by the blacked-out shades covering them. Tears struggling to burst the ducts that stored them.

The skies darkened with the anger that I had built up, cracking at the seams to release a downpour of tears that I struggled to distribute.

The cigarette that I held within the crests of my lips, half smoked, dampened with those very droplets. Umbrellas sprung open, shielding those in control of the appendages.

Sounds of the water colliding with the coffin reverberated from the base of the blades of grass, sending deep bass like drumbeats across the cemetery.