Three Boxes

Who would have guessed it takes three plastic containers to fit one man's life? You would think you need lots of space, but after you get rid of all those little "whatchamacallits", old clothes, used furniture, and everything collecting dust inside the kitchen cabinets, there is nothing much left to care for. Memories? They're stored in your brain, and you don't have to keep 13 copies of the same photo to remember a kid's sports event you barely paid any attention to when it was happening.

Who would have guessed it would take one of the most difficult divorce cases I ever saw for a man to decide that was the end of the line for him? But here I am, taking care of everything, making sure that nothing is left unattended, and bringing closure to a sickening and shameless event when nobody else cared enough.

And I hated him so much for that...

I couldn't find a ladder inside the garage or anywhere else, but those three boxes proved to be useful to reach the main rafter and be able to work out the knot. I was furious when I found out the coroner had left the rope still in place. It was a cruel sign and a vulgar reminder that hit me right in my face when I arrived. It was the same old rope I think about every God damn day since then.

My head was filled with rage thinking about all those moments I attested, growing up in a dysfunctional home. There was never a dull day, and everything was handled with screams and noise. School was the only escape, and I dedicated most of my afternoons sitting in silence, reading or doing homework, and pretending that I didn't hear the fights. I barely moved or asked for anything, not even food. There were plenty of nights when I went to sleep hungry as Hell. But one can do only so much. I tried on a few occasions to put a stop to it, wiggling myself in the middle of a fight, but that only made it worse. A rescuer becoming the rescue is never a good thing.

And I hated myself so much for that...

The rope's knot was still firmly tied, and surprisingly, the rafter was sturdy for an old house. No wonder it sustained the weight so fittingly. As I was standing up in the boxes, a flashing image filled my head in repeat, while his voice was telling me the same thing he told me in numerous times after protecting me from another insane beating. He made me promise that no matter what, I would take care of her and be sure everything was right if he was no longer around. But the evocation of his lacerated body was too much to handle this time. It was the end of the line for me too. Made up my mind and took a step forward.

And I hated her so much for that...