I believed the worst crime any human could possibly commit is the destruction of another person’s soul. Hell, I would give mine to God or sell it to the Devil if either brought back my son, my best friend but why is he gone? “You’re Killing Me, Will”
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Wednesday, February 3, 2021
Gospel 217 ~You’re Killing Me, Will~
Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. There I said it because; only a “rich” man… Inspector, no one is above the law.
I am GUILTY of Misanthropy, Murder, and Madness. Misanthropy like a mother fucker (pardon my language). It started Wednesday of last week. I came home, and I was tired. God, I was so tired, and all Braxton wanted was my attention. The one life who gave a damn about me, and I ignored him because I was done with people. There’s this girl at work that’s been ever so sweet since his passing. Only she doesn’t know how to talk to me. Hell, I don’t know what to say. I wouldn’t have to say anything if I had been reading the signs that night. Only by hating people, I didn’t care for him. That’s how it started, Inspector, I killed Braxton, I killed my son.
Murderer… I don’t want to be a murderer. I am, though. Not the vets, no, not in the slightest, they gave him mercy. I thank them for their service. There was nobody else, only me, Inspector Echo. To think what I worried about all last week, STUPIDITY. Let the cops take me to jail, after what I’ve done to my son. For nearly five days, I ignored him Wednesday, my greed Thursday, my hesitation Friday. I let go of everything Saturday, and I prayed. I was on my knees praying, following, cleaning. Sunday, I gathered him up and murdered him.
Madness, fucking madness!!! Not Anger, not yet anyway. Well, other than at my “father.” Braxton’s body was still warm, and my father says, “get a new DOG.” They would say I’m still in Denial. I always open his gates as if he were walking with me. Every day I refill his water bowl. The trash was picked up today, but I didn’t throw out a scrap of his food. I won’t wash his bed, the sheets, my hoodie, which I’m still wearing. I walk into his room and lay down a treat. Three treats for three days. I keep his final papers, so I’ll never forget Inspector Echo. I need to see the proof of what I PAID for!!! I did this, Braxton is dead because of my Hate, with my Help, and now I dream of Heaven to be.
His last look, I swear, “Daddy.” You’re Killing Me, Will.
I Am Afraid Without Braxton