The Love From Vengeance

183: SPIRIT CRUSHED

ARIEL’S POV

1 stood outside on the porch, my back against the rough wooden railing, staring out into the darkness of the night. The cool breeze brushed against my tear streaked face, the only comfort I could find in the midst of my overwhelming grief. The stars above seemed to mock me with their twinkling indifference, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within me.

My little son, Lukel, had been the light of my life; his laughter was a melody that had filled our home with joy and warmth. But now he was gone, taken from me in a cruel twist of fate that I couldn’t begin to comprehend. The pain in my chest was like a physical weight, crushing my spirit and leaving me gasping for air.

As I closed my eyes, memories of Lukel flooded my mind–his chubby cheeks flushed with excitement as he played in the backyard, his tiny hands reaching out to me for comfort, his sweet voice calling out “Mommy” with such pure love that it had brought tears to my eyes. How could he be gone? How could I go on without him?

A sob escaped my lips; the sound was raw and full of anguish. I clutched at my chest as if trying to hold myself together, but the grief was an all–consuming tide that threatened to sweep me away. The world around me seemed to blur, the familiar sights and sounds of our home fading into an indistinct

haze.

In the distance, a dog barked, its lonely cry echoing through the night. My heart clenched at the sound, a sharp pang of longing piercing through my sorrow. Lukel, who loved dogs, had begged me. for one of his own with such earnestness that I had almost relented. Now, the thought of a playful puppy bounding around the yard seemed like a cruel joke, a reminder of all the dreams and plans that would never come to pass.

I sank to my knees, the rough wood of the porch digging into my skin, but I hardly felt the pain. My grief was a relentless force, dragging me down into the depths of despair. The tears flowed freely now, a silent cascade of sorrow that seemed to have no end.

it

And yet, through the haze of my anguish, a faint glimmer of hope flickered in the darkness. Somewhere deep within me, a voice whispered that Lukel was still with me and that his love would never truly leave my side. It was a fragile thread of comfort, but in that moment of crushing grief, was all I had to hold on to. With a shuddering breath, I closed my eyes and let myself surrender to the pain, knowing that only by facing it head–on could I hope to find a way through to the other side.

flood my mind like a torrential downpour. I recalled the way he would throw his arms around my neck, his embrace filled with a warmth that could chase away any shadow of

moments we had shared–the bedtime stories read with such enthusiasm, the scraped knees

quiet of the night. Luke’s almence felt like a hole in my very

that I could hold him close and tell him how much I loved him and how much he meant to me. I longed for his presence, for the sound of his footsteps running down the hallway, for the mischievous glint in

night seemed to stretch on endlessly, the stars above offering no solace or answers to the questions that tormented my soul. I whispered his name into the stillness, a prayer

once more.

depths of my sorrow. I knew that Lukel would always be a part of me, that his spirit would

surrounded me. In that moment of profound stillness, I whispered a promise to the night air,

a single star seemed to shine a little brighter, a silent sentinel in the vast

still going through so much pain.” Samantha

told me that she witnessed the whole thing–Luke shooting Lukel. She narrated everything to me like it was a goddamn story. And

sighed in pain. “Life can be really unfair sometimes.”

can,” she said. “I lost my mother when I was twelve, and my father died of cancer later on.

at her. “Oh, that’s

pain of losing someone really close to you. The worst part here is that someone also

a minute; I got to ask

looked at me. “Go ahead, what is it?”

the building that was

me that? Are you starting to doubt the things that I told

my face away. “No, it’s not that.