The next few months went in a blur. Every week he attended church. Every week was like a removed experience. He had no clue what he was doing there, just a sense that it was better for him to be there. He could barely focus on the sermons such were the nightmares still ravaging his consciousness. He kept being told that he was saved, but he didn’t understand it, didn’t understand how it was possible. The condemnation of his own mind weighed heavily down upon him. He was a murderer. There was no taking that back and if these people knew that, then surely they would realise that he was lost forever and stop being kind to him. He didn’t want that to happen, he couldn’t bear for that to happen, so he got into a routine of playing the part all the while wishing to have the security of faith that they seemed to have.
Read Justice: Part 1 <<here
The overwhelming sense of freedom that she had felt in that moment, teetering on the precarious line between life and death, served to suddenly and unexpectedly scatter her thoughts, just as the strong gust of wind scattered the strands of her fine hair which now whirled about her and stuck to her face like a disordered cobweb. Memories that had lain locked in dark archives of her mind erupted to the fore; her personal grief, her family’s grief for her sake, and her fiancé’s family’s utter despair at a life so casually dispensed with; how even though each of these groups’ relationship to her beloved differed to her own, yet all had been united by several threads which had led to the centre of it all; him. His exit and subsequently their unborn child’s, had caused a break in the web which could never be mended to be the same way again, thus it had been left, to collect dust. Dust was the most accurate term she could think of to describe her relationship right now with the other threads of the web. Both their families had tried to reach out to her, but her anguish had been the self-absorbed kind that allowed for no other participants, merely observers whose own spirits drained at the constant efforts to regenerate, till they simply stopped trying anymore for fear of becoming overwhelmed also.
She opened the door of her apartment block and was immediately assaulted by the sultry summer smells of flowers, barbeques and the scent of grass that had been caressed by sunlight since the early hours of the morning.
The sunlight dappled the pavement underneath her, the shaded areas the shadows of the leaves from the trees above, whose mahogany branches combined with the rich green leaves, pink blossoms and the glistening beams of sunlight, created a picture so stunning, the sight of it would have taken anyone’s breath away.
But she saw none of it…smelt none of it…for her focus was firmly fixed on the tragedies of her past, an unwelcome and unresisted ghost that had lain like a cloak over her for the past three years. Such was the clinginess of this company, it was hard for her to remember if she had ever lived life without this oppressive companion seemingly inching closer and closer to her every year to strangle every last breath of life that she had to breathe, till she and the ghost became synonymous. One. But yet she still lived. She still breathed. She was still here. But not because she wanted to be.