Page 37 of Vile Emotion
Coroner’s notes:
Patient was repeatedly hit over the head with a weapon that could be identified as either a hammer or the dull side of an ax.
Patient had multiple wounds; excessive; some wounds were fresh and others indicate that he was held for days before he passed on.
Patient’s face was unrecognizable and had motorcycle tire tracks indicating someone ran over his face multiple times but that is not the cause of death. He was held down by something or someone. Unidentifiable.
Patient’s hair was shaved off;
Personally, even if this isn’t my professional opinion, he was Native-American and he did not believe in cutting his hair so this was a sign of disrespect from the attacker. I am not a cop nor a detective, just merely a medicalexaminer but this is important. Please, pay attention to this!
There issome redacted information and I pause trying to figure out if I should know more or just read what the conclusion of this report was. The medical examiner’s notes. The only other link to my brother’s death and explaining it.
In conclusion, the cause of death wasn’t any of the things he endured. He was alive until he was thrown out in the streets naked. There is where he froze to death with no one to help him tend to his wounds.
End of notes.
I scroll further downand there are pictures of Godric when they found him out on the street and another when he’s on the medical table after he’s been cleaned. With the coroner trying their best to make him look like himself, I suppose.
I stare at the photo of him being found, his eyes are open and even though they appear lifeless. There is an expression that I won’t ever get out of my system or memory. Desperation. He needed help and no one helped him. Not one person.
Placing my cell close to my heart, my chest aches from a pain that I know isn’t really physical.
“Hmm.” a pained sound escapes my mouth and then the tears fall down without my permission.
I can’t. I’m sinking in death and I don’t know if I can come out of it.
They destroyed my brother. Hurt him and broke him.
A little 18-year-old Native boy that no one would miss. No one would look for his killer and no one would care to find out either.
“Hmm.”
That was all I could manage to get out. Any other thing hurts me. I can’t move, not even when Juliana called my name over and over. I heard her but I felt like I was under water. Drowning in death and misery. Hurting over and over again for people who died when they didn’t need to.
I failed you, Godric. I’m so sorry.
27
Alaric is gone…
Not physically but emotionally. There's a look of his that I’m used to seeing but it isn’t there. It’s like he doesn’t even see me as he floats around the motel room.
He does this routine for the past couple of days and nights, where he showers, dresses up, drives me to that dank diner and then he just disappears. I don’t see nor hear from him.
This is your chance to run…
A voice in me so strong reminds me that I really could go but if I go now, Edwin wins. Alaric wins and every other person who has hurt me… wins.
I can’t leave without getting what I need. Being selfish has never been who I am but after everything, I deserve to be selfish. I deserve to tell others how I want the world to go.
Now, as I finish early and wait for Alaric outside of the diner, I think about what to do to snap him out of his stupor. This isn’t just for him but for me.
Alaric and I may never settle into some form of respect or anything like that but there has to be something that I’m getting out of this.
The anger that I normally don’t feel with my predicament is brewing inside, that sort of white-hot anger that wants me to hurt something.
Being in prison changed me, yes but I don't show it. I don’t like to admit that Alaric made me stronger because then I would have to attribute that to him when I can’t give him that. He doesn’t deserve to take that from me. No one can make me stronger than myself.
