You didn’t mean for this to happen, you just wanted to go to the grocery store. You thought your boyfriend was competent enough to handle your 2 year old

but of course not, why did you trust him? Why were you so negligent in leaving him in that man child’s care? Why did you have to come home and see your child on the street?

And now you were stuck with holding the little urn of your baby boy

day and night tormented as you were forced to live with that murder, every. Single. Day. Even after your little boys funeral

————————————

One day in your depressive state you heard rattling from the jar, a small hand popped out as you felt dizzy and passed out- awaking to find your dear “husband” mangled and still alive outside your window on the street as people stare at him and cops drag him away

You stand in your doorway with your bloodied child standing with you holding onto your long skirt

“Mama bad man gone..”

He whispered softly with a lisp, his tiny hand firmly grasping the fabric of your skirt shaking it with blood