My dad, Dakon, and Crystal's funerals were all on the same day. I wanted to honor them individually, but I knew I couldn't handle three funerals. The ceremony was beautiful, but it was still a fucking funeral for the people I loved most.

Dakon's classmates came. They drew pictures that we hung around the room during the visitation. Guys from the garage that my dad worked at all came too. Other than that, it was just Wulf and I in the crowd.

It felt lonely. It felt awful. It felt like no one cared about the people who were my family. Were because they aren't any more.

Watching them lower Dakon's casket was the worst. I had actually thought about my father's death many times before. As a chain-smoker and an alcoholic I knew he probably wouldn't have a long life.

But my nephew? No. I was supposed to live long enough to watch him graduate, be there for his wedding, hold his babies. My biggest fear was that he would end up like Joey. I wasn't prepared for this.

The coroner told me that their deaths were likely painless. They were each found in their beds with a bullet in their brains. The thought was comforting until it wasn't.

We still don't know what happened to Joey. Everyday I feel differently about it. Sometimes, I like to pretend that he's hiding out somewhere. That the last bit of my blood isn't gone.

Other days, I pretend that they slit his throat. It feels fitting when I think of my nephew's closed casket.

Each day I feel differently about Wulf too. I think of how he so easily had his men use a gun in my own home. How many deaths have been wrought at his hands? How many sisters, daughters, aunts have spilled tears because of his actions?

I can't ask him, because I don't want to know the answer. The naive woman wants him to tell me he's never killed anyone. Down to the depths of me, I know it isn't true though. I know he's killed for me...

Some days though, I see him as the only person who understands. The only one who doesn't have family left either. The only one who holds me when I cry.

He lets me use him as a punching bag. It isn't fair, but I use him as a release for my rage. I always apologize later, but I know I can't take any of it back.

Sometimes I go straight to sleep. Sometimes I cry for hours. No matter what though, he's always there- holding me, kissing me, loving me.