It always ends

Twelve

She never really makes huge messes. This only happens when I come home too late.

I went to fill up her food bowl and washed my hands. I opened the fridge and spotted a container of Caesar salad made by Nora. I mentally thanked her and scooped some into a bowl.

I sat at the table with my thoughts, alone. But I liked the quietness. It was peaceful and gave me time to think without feeling so overwhelmed. Today was one of the better days.

I poked my fork into the salad and brought it to my mouth. While I ate, I watched the sunset. Since it was coming down to summer, the days were longer, meaning I would come home to watch the sunset.

It was seven forty three and the sun went down completely. Almost. I got that pretty dark almost black shade of blue. The stars were beginning to shine.

The darkness couldn't stop the stars from beaming. That's the way I felt. During the times I had been in the dark, I wouldn't let the light in me go out. Not completely. It would shine twice as bright if ever the darkness consumed me. It took me a while to realize that.

I finished up my food and brought the dishes to the sink. After rinsing, I placed them in the dish washer. Then, I settled down on the couch. I turned on the tv as I felt the silence get a little too loud.

I listened intently as the news reporter began speaking, "...Cassetti, age 29, was found dead in a warehouse...seventh street north... Police reports say this could be the work of..."

Their voice faded in the background. I heard a slight ringing in my ears. I felt myself being consumed by worry and dread.

I knew it couldn't be but... what if something happened to him?

I would lose him before I could even have him again.

"... the Moranos, as Officer Hanson says could be behind the chaos... arrests won't be able to be made... bail..."

I froze.

Why did I think it was a good idea to check the news?

I let out a shaky breath and shut off the television. I've had enough for tonight.

Surely, he wouldn't do such a horrid thing? He isn't that bad. I don't believe he would do something like that.

That's a lie. I knew what he was capable of. I've seen it myself.

But I knew better. He doesn't have a choice. Not exactly.

Then again, this could be all a weird coincidence? Maybe I haven't been drinking enough water. I think I'm going crazy.

I took a moment, to sit with my fears and worries then I collected my thoughts. I imagined shoving them out the door—in other words, out of my mind.

I picked up my book from the coffee table, deciding I needed a distraction.

I turned to the page where I had left off and busied myself in the writing. Replacing my thoughts with the literary world.

Time went by, it was ten when I finished the book. I started sobbing quietly into my hands, covering my mouth to conceal the pain. Even though no one could hear me.

It's kind of embarrassing actually.

That last page. I really felt it in my heart. I'm never opening up another book until I've recovered.

I wanted to throw the book across the room. Obviously, I wouldn't but the thought presented itself many times.

I wiped my tears and frowned at the mascara smudge. Great.