A sickler fettered to pain. Fought his pain with opium—vials of pleasure and peace that swam in his blood. Then he became chained to it. And on days when he couldn’t get it, he’d take out his frustration on her.
A wife imprisoned by her love for him; chose to stay despite he beat her. Her tongue grew accustomed to the saltiness of endless tears. That’s why I’m here.
A mother tethered to grief: lost her son who escaped pain through death, and his wife who couldn’t bear his escape and decided to escape too.