A Sea of Bitterness

Her lungs ached as she inhaled deeply. She cracked her knuckles and reached again for the pen, though she still had nothing to write.

She knew what had to be done, did it really matter if they hated her if she was dead anyway? It seemed like they already did. They were all a bunch of greedy slimes. She had saved every penny and put all of them all through college, never asking for anything in return.

Anything they asked for, she gave. They all had these great jobs far away, so far that they wouldn’t visit, and when she tried to visit they were “too busy” for her company. They even chose their father and his new girlfriend over her. Dumb, young, blonde thing. Tracey, fucking Tracey. He never gave them his time or his money, and yet they worshipped him. They didn’t deserve another cent.

But of course, when she started dying they all came around again. She wanted to believe it was because they wanted to take care of her in her sickness, but as much as she wanted to believe, she knew the truth. They wanted more.

She had no one else anymore, friends and family had either passed or left her to sulk in her own sea of bitterness surrounding her abandonment. She had lived alone in the old family cabin for years now since the divorce.

Tracey and Dan would show up sometimes in their sports car, Tracey always in heels and a skimpy dress. With their big fake smiles on asking her how she was doing, as if the answer was ever anything different. They would bring her things like casseroles and baked goods, as if that made up for all they did to her. “They probably didn’t even make it themselves,” she thought. The second they left she would throw it straight in the trash, she had lost her appetite anyway.

As soon as she got her diagnosis she began the process of selling the heirlooms, all the valuables, anything she knew they would scrounge up and steal the moment she took her last breath. She took it all out in cash and closed the bank accounts, nobody knew.

They even asked her about the will when she became ill, it was like they didn’t even try to hide the fact that that was all she was good for. They lived completely different lives from each other now. All of them in the city, and her tucked away in the cabin in the woods

She had always lived a simple life without a lot of excess and put all the rest away for a rainy day. That’s how she raised them too, but somehow that big “American Dream” got in their heads, they were so much like their father. They took out loans to buy the fancy cars, the big house, all the bells and whistles. And they had all dug themselves into a hole and needed a way out. She was the way out.

She had played out every scenario in her head, but no matter how she played it she always came up to the same answer. If she donated the money, they would find a way to get it. They would tell the lawyers she was delusional, that it was all just a big misunderstanding. Crazy old coot, living alone in a cabin all those years would drive anyone mad. It was a believable story and she knew it. She would no longer contribute to their greed, and like hell if she would let Tracey take anything else away from her.

Her pen was still grazing the paper and she was going through it all over and over in her head. Maybe she didn’t have to do this, maybe there was another way. She tapped her pen against the paper. “It’s a shame,” she thought, “I’ve spent years with all this money piling up with nothing and nobody to spend it on.”

Clinging for so long on all she had lost and on everyone who had left her. She had spent the rest of her life hiding away so she couldn’t be hurt again. Had they really left her, or had she shut them all out?

The daylight was wavering, and she knew if she was to go through with her plan it would have to be now while she still had the strength. She folded the paper, her will, up neatly and placed it on the stacks of cash sitting on the kitchen table, her entire life’s savings. She walked through the house, pausing to look at the photos of a time when she was happier, when they all were happier. She picked an old family photo and stretched her face into what was left of a smile. Had it always been this way? When did it all go wrong? Maybe this would prove a point, maybe this would change them all. She doubted it.

She sighed and pulled the kitchen chair away from the table. She mustered up the strength to carry it outside, allowing the creaky screen door to slam behind her one last time. She dragged the chair behind her down the front steps and set it down away from the house, but still in view. She walked past the garden and into the shed, climbing over the rusty old tools inside that hadn’t been touched in ages. In the corner of the shed was a bright red jerry can, she grabbed it and walked back to the house.  Walking the perimeter of the house, she poured out the gasoline until the can was completely empty. The match was lit and she threw it on.

The old cabin exploded into flames. Red, orange, and yellow reflected in her eyes filled with rage and hurt. They could take no more from her, she had nothing left.

 She sat on the kitchen chair and watched, allowing her lungs to fill with the smoke until she could no longer take full breaths.

She closed her eyes.