A retired police detective, Luther, enters the realm of isolation and affliction. Lonesome nights are spent processing the death of his dear wife and stillborn daughter.
[ inspiration : poetry, psychological survival and surviving grief ]
Every morning, I wake up and I go to war with my body, with my mind, and with the world around me. Every day is a struggle to keep my life as close to as normal as possible whilst fighting negativity and despair. I give myself all the pain, thinking I deserve it. I'm not sure why I do it.
Day after day, week after week, years after years, the echoes of losing you resonate in my bones.
I strictly try to tell myself, "you're not alone" yet when I lay in bed late at night, my sadness enveloped me rather than my blanket. My head is propped up with antagonistic thoughts rather than my pillow. And all I know through the confusion is when I sit up and look around... the only person is me. The only person who cares is me. The only person who understands is me.
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Now, I know this was quite short. However, I felt like I should keep the vibe as well as the mood of the story consistent and in its correct place.
If you managed to read chapter 2, I'm glad and thankful you enjoyed the first part. More is yet to come.
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