His Empire, My Vengeful Return

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spinning, replaced by a deafening silence that echoed in my brain. My mind, moments ago a

the blood-slicked floor. My limbs felt alien, heavy, unresponsive. Blood, raw and visceral, so

crushing weight of a grief so immense it threatened to tear me apart from the inside out. My hands, sticky with blood, reached out, trembling violent

ed with an ethereal blue. His eyelids were soft,

o unleash the torrent of agony churning within me, but only a dry, raspi

meone, anyone, who could breathe life back into my child. But my legs, heavy and unrespon

empt to soothe the unsoothable. My mind was a whirlwind of shattered

d every book on parenting, meticulously prepared his nursery, each tiny garment folded with trembling anticipation. My hands

o ride a bicycle, graduating from college, falling in love. A lifetime of moments, vibrant and real in my imagination, now reduced to d

e world crushing me. He was so small, so innocent, untouched

ugh the grime on my face, blurring my vision. They fell, one by one

g whisper. It was a song I had sung to him every night, a pr

unease, perhaps even fear, in their eyes. My grief, vast and

hell, a sea of despair. The world outside, its cruelty and indifferenc

s, raw and swollen, struggling to focus. Standing over