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Katarina
Crack!
Tears stream down my cheeks as the target dances around in my view. Bullet holes pepper the cardboard cutout, but it’s still not enough. It’s barely recognizable anymore, but still I continue my assault on it.
It’s not completely destroyed yet, like me.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Rocco didn’t know. I can’t be mad about him adopting Stoli 2.
The ache in my chest is so damn heavy and firing off these bullets isn’t making it any better. I plug the target with more holes, letting the grief and guilt guide my trigger finger. The bullets fly through the air, tearing through the cardboard. At least something is more broken and shredded than I am.
Ha! What a joke. It’s completely whole compared to me.
And this little shooting spree doesn’t change a thing.
I try to steady my breathing, but my heart thumps harder and harder as the seconds pass.
He wasn’t mine. He was never mine. I lost my Stoli.
Pop! Crack! Crack!
Dammit, I’m such a fucking mess! Why is it such a surprise to me after all this time? I know what’s coming…I can feel the impending dread deep in my bones as the date approaches, but somehow I’m always shocked by it.
The nightmares are back. They haunt me each time I close my eyes. Nothing keeps the demons away while I sleep. They want me to remember, to relive that day over and over, to ignite the rage.
No amount of vodka mutes the chilling sounds or blunts the harsh reality I survived.
The horror of those memories…the screams, pleas for mercy, cries for help…I can hear the sounds all so clearly, almost as if I’m standing in our old kitchen again, watching my mother and sister struggle for their lives.
And for what?
Revenge. It’s always about revenge.
I just need to dig a little deeper to figure out who needed revenge so badly that they had to destroy so much of what I loved about living.
I try in vain to fill the gaping void, but nothing works. Stoli 2 was temporary. It’s all temporary. Letting myself care about something too much for too long…I can’t do it. It hurts so badly, and I always seem to lose in the end.
That makes me angry. Very fucking angry.
Crack! Crack!
And the one person who can drag me out of this downward spiral won’t let me in. For eight years, I’ve been hanging around on the outside, hoping for a glimpse of the father who evidently died with my mother and sister.
I have nothing, and the emptiness is like a black hole. I’ve been battling it for the past eight years, dancing around the edge, trying not to get sucked into it.
I want to forget. I want to live again.
But the anger won’t let me.
So I close myself off and keep my distance. Nobody else needs to be dragged into my toxic aura. It’s pure poison for anyone who gets too close.
But one person can’t take a hint.
Deep breaths. Focus, focus, focus. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip the gun tight in my hand. Rocco’s face flashes across my mind, making me swallow hard. I grit my teeth. Fuck! I can’t do this right now!
Forget about how close he was to my lips…how good he smelled…how fucking demented I am for even giving these thoughts air time.
