I know I’ve done something terrible. I wake up to the same tiresome thought every single day and today is no exception despite the dull, painful throbbing of my head and the roiling of my stomach. The sinister notion always manages to worm its way into my thoughts no matter what, throwing me off track and even alcohol isn’t powerful enough to fight it.
I’ve been feeling like this for as long as I can remember. And my parents’ unanticipated suicide six months ago has, needless to say, reinforced the feeling tenfold.
Their death has been labelled ‘an unfortunate accident’ by the court. But I know; I know it’s no accident. They willingly drove off the cliff and down into the pits of the bleak, hungry river waters, seeking instant and irreversible admittance to the other side. And as their legal son, the reigns of their multiple bank accounts and properties were handed over to me.