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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Psychology · #2182034
Warning this is dark...
My Dear Son,
         I know you have a lot of questions about why I left. So I thought about the questions you would probably ask me if I was there in person-- standing right in front of you. This is so you understand the reason I had to leave you.
         You are probably wondering about your mother’s location. As you know I love you with all of my heart… your mother also loved you with all of her soul. I would tell you that she died during childbirth but that would be a fat lie. The truth about the location of your mother is that she was always smelling the roses with you.
         My son you probably read that and are thinking what does he mean by that. I will tell you a story of you're mother and I. Your mother was a druggie, she stuck needles into her arm whenever she could get the chance. I was a man who could not have been there for her during these times. I had to work and all she did was stick chemicals into her arm, I was getting sick and tired of this. You were around four years old at this time you were the light of my darkest days.
         I remember you asking me where Mom was when we sat at the table for dinner that night many years ago. I just smiled and told you that she was out late working, by the time you read this you already know that it is pure bullshit. When I said that I am glad you did not notice that my eyes were not on you, but focused on the rose garden in the backyard.
         When I tucked you in for the night you asked when mom would be coming back home from work. I smiled and said next spring and you cried at, that. Oh how sick of the crying I was… sick of all the responsibility… sick of this family’s shit.
         So when you went to sleep I pressed a pillow onto your head… you wriggled around under the pillow as I held it there in place. When you stopped moving I brought you downstairs into the basement and embalmed you. I then dug up the hole under the rose garden your mother was under and set you next to her.
         This morning when you were asleep, you're mother came upstairs to get some money from my wallet, so I pushed her down the stairs. Her neck snapped on the final step of the flight and you walked out of your room to see what was going on. I dragged you're mother to the basement where I left her until you had to go to school… which is when I embalmed her and put her in the roses.

Now I can finally stop and smell the roses…

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2182034