The viewing ends

A long day within the Funeral profession means you’ve been going flat out day and night caring for families of the deceased and the deceased for them.  It’s draining no good happy days kinda drab.  I had been shadowing my boss for months earning my practical skills pre college.  I had enrolled in another high school as to not live home under that toxic house roof.  Says a lot a kid would rather lay in sex filth than come home.  I sold myself daily to not emotionally be beaten to a pulp.  We were finishing up a long busy spurt that night last bit of business was to complete a viewing.  As I washed up the dishes swept up and prepared for the morning funeral, most nights your only home to shower eat and nap.  Up with and down with the sun.  I was responsible for closing he said while he printed prayer cards for the morning.  I watered the flowers and closed the casket, always close the lid out of respect.  I grabbed my blazer and walked down the hallway towards the office lights at the very end.  Always Erie after hours in a Funeral Home floors creek and it’s chilly drafts always shiver the skin.   Arms crossed I watch my shoes walk in that spongy pink carpet.

Out of nowhere from behind me out of a dark visitation room he grabbed me by my hair, my hair clip breaks his big hand breaks my lip as he covers my mouth.  I remember being tossed into the dark, pitch dark.  Within a moment I heard the floor creek near me he grabs my arm.  My face burns against the carpet as he begins repeativly calling me horrible names.  You fucking whore!  Trampoline, the iron stained my lips.  He slams my head into the viewing rooms couch.  I could hardly breathe in those dusty cushions, they stain in my silent tears.  As he left the room I sat in the floor for a bit.  Turned on the lamp tied my hair up, cleaned the mascara off my face. Washed the blood off my lips.   My pantyhose was shredded so I put them in my blazer. I walked to the entrance.  He enters the password and set the alarm.  We walk outside in silence.  The van door closes and he begins to talk about supper as if nothing happened.

Everytme someone takes your right of choice away a small piece of you dies, changes you forever and the bullett is never removed.  I can’t and never will just get over it.  I just can’t.

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