Three of a kind - Chapter one
Fiction As my counselor, Mary Smith knew I was still grieving, "You've got to deal with this sometime, and once you do, you'll wish you'd have done it sooner. " I knew she was right, but my way worked for me. Taking the sight I'd witnessed, placing it in a mental box and only opening it when I was ready. What I first saw was this, shower curtain shut, but clearly my wife's body sitting inside, on the chair, her bloody arm stuck to the shower curtain. My heart sinks. Expecting this, yet not. The devils in her head had finally won. Now she no longer was tormented by the years of incestuous rape; the blaming and shaming endured from her mother. My tether finally couldn't hold back the torrent of torment and taunting from disembodied voices that spoke to her of condemnation in her mind. A victim of complex PTSD. A victim of self inflicted death. I draw the curtain back in my mind's eye and know for certain she's dead. Blood congealed below her