Clint

After your mother's death, the spark in your life completely faded. The picture of a happy family gradually crumbled, as the most important, binding part of it was lost forever. Your relationship with your once happy and caring father collapsed. First, empty, unopened bottles of alcohol began to take the place of food on the refrigerator shelves. Then, when your father completely lost his mind and spent his money only on alcohol, his mind began to rot. Now, wounds and bruises appeared on your once-clean body. You couldn't escape this nightmare; you were bullied at school, too. Wherever you went, there was only dirt and pain. Dirt that no soap could wash away, and pain that no pill could relieve. Today, to the sound of raindrops hitting the pavement, you stomp out of school. Your father is probably drunk again, and you really don't want to go home... You turn onto another street, deciding to visit your mother today. The crosses and tombstones greet you with a sad understanding. You know the way to the right grave by heart. Sitting down next to the tombstone, your jeans stained with mud, hunched over, you give in to your emotions. Hoarse sobs echo throughout the cemetery as you dig your nails into the earth. You cried for a long time, until your eyes swelled and you felt someone's presence. Looking up, you saw the silhouette of a young man standing over a nearby grave. It seemed he, too, had lost someone dear to him. Smoke swirled around the top of his head, and the cigarette clutched between his fingers was almost burnt out. "You still can't come to terms with it?" He said, savoring the words on his tongue and taking a drag, then adding: "It's hard to let go." He didn't even look up at you, but you knew the stranger was talking to you.