Chapter song: Cigarette Daydreams- Cage The Elephant

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All the pain caused in my life has been from those alive. When my parents died, the only pain I felt was the aching hole their absence left but no more of my wounds are a result of them. When people die they don't hurt you anymore than they already have. They don't help anymore than they already have.

Betrayal continues on by the living because the dead are too dead to hurt you.

I've lost track of how long I've been staring at the wall. The recent news of the culprit behind my parents' murder is like a fresh stab in the heart. Melissa had the audacity to break down while explaining to me that she hired a hit man to kill my family. She mocked me with her tears as if she hadn't intendee to kill me all those years ago. It hurts so much to known that the person who ruined my life is the same person I've been living with. The same person who was supposed to be my guardian.

I'm angry. Angry at Melissa for what she did. Angry at myself for helping her. Angry at god for all he has put me through.

I can't take it anymore.

I won't take it anymore.

Death affects the living more than it does the dead. Luckily for me, all the people who would care about me dying are dead so dying wouldn't matter. Killing myself wouldn't be selfish.

I wipe my eyes aggressively as I head into the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror, and cry harder. I look like crap. The light in my eyes that had been briefly relit is gone again. I look empty. I feel empty.

I am empty.

All I can feel is a deep simmering rage that is bubblimg within and I don't know how to channel it.

My whole life is shattered. I lost my parents because of Melissa. I lost Faith because of her boyfriend and I lost myself because of both.

I let out a strangled sob; balling my hand into a fist throwing it forward. The sound of the mirror breaking echoes in my ears. It feels freeing, so I do it again. And again.

I barely feel the stinging pain in my knuckles.

I clutch a broken shard in my hand, drops of blood dotting my reflection. There's blood on the wall where the mirror used to be and glass shards all over the sink and floor. My body moves on autopilot, directing itself to the shower that has seen my years of blood and pain.

It's time for me to go. I'm ready to go, and I have been for a long time.

There's a reason why I never could answer the question of what I wanted to be in the future. It's because I was never going to have one. I don't deserve one.

But that's okay.

It ends here.

Everything ends here.

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