.
You stayed in the bathroom crying for hours on end after he finished abusing you. Emotionally, physically, sexually.
You felt worthless.
You had tried everything to get out of this household, but it was impossible with him being on the police force. The more you tried, the worse he would punish you.
There was no point.
You knew you wouldn't get pregnant, he was sterilised before he'd met your mother. That was an awkward chat you'd had, reminiscing on the day you got home and found them in bed.
You stared at the new pack of three razors sitting on your bathroom bench. Pink, purple and blue. It had always been tempting but you knew you couldn't, that once you started you wouldn't stop.
Instead you grabbed two notes from your wallet, taking off on the long walk to the cemetery where your mother was buried. You bought a small bouquet of flowers, the pristine white petals were starting to brown but you didn't have enough to buy better quality ones. You bought a bunch of yellow flowers, almost as bright as the sun.
You sat next to your mother's grave, placing the delicate white flowers over her plot. The grass was tickling under your legs but you didn't give it another thought.
You traced over the name carved on the headstone, the rough texture of the stone catching under your fingers.
"I'm sorry mum." You told her.
You tried to avoid tears but you could barely see through the wall of tears forming on your waterline.
"I really miss you. I wish you were here instead of him. He hurts me, I deserve it but I hate it." You spoke in mumbles.
You heard the sound of a breaking branch which made your head snap up in alert. A single tear fell down your cheek as you glanced around but you didn't see anyone so you ignored it, hoping it was a small wild animal.
You gently placed the yellow flowers on Evangeline's grave.
"I'm sorry." The tears you had tried to avoid now streamed down your cheeks seeing her headstone. "I wish it were me six foot under, not you. I deserved it, not you."
Your fingers traced over the blades of grass, seeking any sort of comfort but finding none.
"I wish I were six foot under." You said, wiping at your eyes to clear your vision from tears.
You opened your journal once you had returned home, continuing the list.
2. Malattia Venerea | Death by STI, fatal bacterial infection.
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How are we feeling? :(