his father put on an act for the police when they came to investigate her death, crying and saying how heartbroken he was.

his son knew the truth, but if he said a single word then he would be at risk of death.

and he didn't want to die.

her cause of death was suicide, and there was no way to pinpoint the blame on his father, not when his father was friends with the chief of police.

so the funeral went on, and justice was not served for his beautiful mom.

he was the one who set the funeral up, his father was much too busy with his array of younger women.

he adjusted his black tie when the priest started speaking, not daring to look behind him at the people watching him with pitying eyes.

he was in the front row with his father, the two having a good amount of space in between them, but it didn't make him feel any better.

there was no one to save him from his father now, and he had a feeling he might end up the same way as his mom.

help,

please,

someone,

anyone.

he didn't want to die yet, no, he wanted to live for his mother.

as the casket was closed, he felt the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, and he forced himself to wipe them away, feeling his father's piercing gaze on him.

crying was for little boys, and he was a man now.

he already knew what was coming that night, and he was already scared out of his mind.

murmured words from people whose names he didn't know, condolences that he couldn't hear.

she was gone,

and it was his fault for not seeing the signs.