The Birthday Bash

Death is your only true guarantee about life. Every mortal is transient. Everything changes. With each second forward in time, it’s the simplest promise you have, that what you are and what you will be, is all temporary. Murder is an extremely violent way of learning lessons. Yet, it’s common to man, and as Mae wrote out her agonized feelings, it was becoming more ordinary by the day. Those like her are eternally marked by its demonist signature. In its wake, Mae had been born again as a complete stranger to herself. She didn’t know who or what she’d been made into by the experience of watching Seven die. His death hadn’t been natural in any respect of the word. It was preventable, yet it happened. Everyday, she felt heartache and hatred, flowing through her. Revenge fantasies began popping into her head so graphic and horrifying; Mae feared she was losing her sanity. In the blurry and numb days after the death, Mae shuffled her feet, but had no reason to live. Hope had faded when his heart stopped, and there would be no waking up from the nightmare. Emotions that she had never known seeped out of every pore in her body. She felt isolated and alone. Her heart and mind felt different and damaged. Her family had been violently robbed of what could have been what should have been, but never would be. Fear was for the first time in her life, not a factor. Seething every split second, she found so many to blame, including herself. She became obsessed with fixing her murdered brother’s ruined reputation and seeking justice for the crime. Embracing such pain was like trying to harness a bucking bull. The intense aching was fueled by anger, which absorbed so much energy. Truth is the one path to justice, and it was the most elusive journey of all. She couldn’t stop herself, she was obsessed. Seven’s memory deserved more than just the word we use for justice, his killers deserved retribution. Mae’s words would invoke a reckoning. She didn’t go out looking for this tale; it found her. Her chronicles would become her war plans and her pen would become her sword. The murder wasn’t the beginning of his family’s ordeal, it was the grand finale of an entire years worth of dangerous drama. How do you go on after such a tragedy? Where do you find the strength needed to move past the intense and permanent pain you are in? Mae’s family had been shattered like glass, and the chances of ever being able to put themselves back together again was slim to none. Still, none of those who formed and maintained the storm of controversy concerning her brother would have ever guessed Seven’s family was packing a survivor named Marion Mae, who wouldn’t rest until the memory of her brother was repaired. Had he simply been out at the wrong time of night, drunken and disorderly? Or had he been a target of murder the entire night? Was the one sole accused, acting all alone? Had Seven been the perpetrator or victim? Was Seven murdered out of self defense or was he mobbed and robbed? Was his wife involved? Most of the time murder has motive but for some it seems it’s just something fun to do on a care free Saturday night.