GUN IN MY HAND

CHAPTER 53: UNTIL THE GRAVE

'We never learn, we've been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets'

'Beloved son and brother, dear friend, and inspiring citizen.

Douglas Thornton'

I stared at the golden letters on the granite, a dark gray granite, almost black, almost the same color as his eyes that I'd never been able to read, and now, it all came down to these words, and two dates: 1938-1962.

Was it what he had been? A beloved son and brother, dear friend, and inspiring citizen? I doubted everyone could agree with that.

Blade was right. Dead people were buried underground but kept on a pedestal.

Though maybe it all depended on the perspective. I had never seen farther than the blackness of his eyes and his greed for power, but maybe he had been that beloved son, brother, friend, and citizen for some people.

It was enough to see his mother's eyes; those words were inked there between the blood vessels and blur of tears even more than in the heart-breaking speech she had read at the church. 

With her sobs breaking through half of it, I hadn't understood everything she had said, but there had been something that had stung me more than any other elaborate speeches, even his father's – though it was surely because I'd heard my dad advise half of the mayor's words through the phone this morning, and it sounded too much like a campaign rhetoric.

'If people think that will scare me away from the governorship, then, they're very wrong. It gives me even more reasons to fight, and I won't stop until all our children are safe again.'

Maybe maternal love just couldn't be equaled, nor understood by anyone else.

That woman had been the first to feel Douglas's heartbeat in her belly, and I had ended it all with a flicker of my finger. I couldn't even imagine the agony she was going through, yet the wrench of my insides was so strong that I'd almost spilled the truth during her speech, and now, in the silence of remembrance, that same scream was arising again.

I'd expected to have gone through the worst between all the praises and prayers, the preached words of love and forgiveness of the priest, and the hateful whispers against the killer as soon as people had stepped out of the church, but it was nothing in comparison with the silence, heavy with sobs and lies.

I could feel the weight pushing down on my chest as my breaths were becoming shallower, and my fists were tightening as if I was struggling with a ton on my tense shoulders. Yet the pressure wasn't only from outside, and the bangs of my heart echoing like gunshots, and that scream growing with all the truths were even harder to contain.

If the silence kept growing heavier, I only saw two options: running or exploding, but in both cases, it would end with a crash.

Even if I gripped the fidget toy in my right hand tighter to prevent it, my left fist was starting to shake, and I felt myself becoming that dangerous mess again. However, this time, I was held back by a hand wrapping around my fist and slowly unclosing it to slide in between my fingers.

I didn't need to look to know who it was, but I still turned my attention away from those taunting words to meet the two brown orbs, and the look in Spencer's eyes silenced my screams inside.