the cemetery was the way he remembered it, silent and haunting, with flowers that seemed much too bright for a somber place.

the social worker he hadn't been aware he had, stayed a respectful pace behind him as he approached her grave, their graves.

his mother, now with kathleen and his unborn child by her side.

he blinked away the tears forming in his dark eyes as he knelt down in front of kathleen's grave, setting down the roses he had gotten for her.

"i..i'm so sorry."

three little words with so much meaning behind them. he wasn't just sorry, every part of him was filled with pain and remorse that begged to be let free, his screams begged to have voice, but he refused to set them free.

the moment he lost control, he would lose all chances to ever be truly free.

"please...mom. please take care of them for me."

a tear finally made its way down his cheek, a tear that was held in for too long, and a soft sob followed it.

"i'm so sorry." he whimpered, his voice breaking as he buried his face in his hands, starting to really cry now.

"and i wish i could've saved you all, but i couldn't, and i will always regret it." he breathed out, his voice shaking badly now, more tears threatening to spill.

the social worker merely watched, and she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue when he wasn't looking, her own heartaches and memories coming back to hit her and make her feel things she hadn't felt for years.

everyone has a story to tell, a story of how they broke, shattered, and fell, but how many of those stories are ever told?

how many of those stories are destroyed the moment they start to unfold?