Two Minutes - Part 1
She slowly eased the door open and stepped inside in a fleeting almost blind fashion; her eyes were open, but she was not seeing.
Pink. Pink to make her insides quiver.
She closed her eyes and opened them in the blink of an eye. So many things happen in the blink of an eye. So many. That’s when she heard the sounds; when she shut her eyes. Slam. The desire to scream, the need to scream, the fear of screaming. She’s there, again.
2
Black. A stark contrast to the bright pinkness. Truth in black. Truth in the dark. The lies abounding in the bright pinkness. Black, grey, dark, end, Hell. ‘Scream for eternity, you bastard.’
And now, he’s gone; it’s gone. Animal. Not worthy of the title ‘Animal.’ He wasn’t gone. He was here, still. She could sense him, she could feel him, she could smell him, she could taste him. Where was the joy? Where was the euphoria that she always felt would accompany the animal’s demise, dying, death. Why did his stink pervade? Why did his stink seem to stick to the hairs in her nostrils? Oh, to have a gun. Oh, to shoot every mother-fucking grief stricken mourner.
There wasn’t one amount them who didn’t know. They all knew. Bury them all!
3
Peace. Breathe. You are not your mind. You are not your mind.
‘I am not my mind. I am not my mind.’
'Are you okay, Sweetheart?’ She felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder. She almost chuckled, almost sighed. She didn’t turn around. She stood there, nodding, while her mother gently rubbed her hand back and forth across her back. She would be okay when she got away from this room, away from this house, away from this funeral. She couldn’t say that to her mum.
‘I’m fine, mum. Are you okay?’
‘I’ll be okay when this is done and dusted and I can get the Hell out of here.’
They made their way downstairs. Her mind still racing and she doing her best not to react to the crazy random thoughts. Not to dwell. Not to engage in mind identification. She was not her mind. Her mind was a sick twisted fuck.