Page 223 - The Houseguest

I felt a million emotions fill my mind and body as I read the book of a woman I had, for many years, wished death upon, realizing now I’d never given her the chance to explain her side of the story, her feelings, her thoughts. I’d permanently pegged her as the young rich bitch who had murdered my family. Time in prison had no doubt tempered my obsession, not to the point of forgiveness, but to a certain level of understanding. After all, I had also been born into wealth, drove fast cars and was relatively self-centered. If it wasn’t for meeting Karina, I would have undoubtedly remained that way.
The issue I had to conquer before attempting to heal and recover psychologically concerned the acts I had committed. Trying to reconcile the fact, that in my crazed mind at the time, I believed what I was doing to her purposely was somehow more acceptable than what she did to me accidentally was almost impossible. I struggled with it between phases of lucidity and doses of medication. In retrospect, I’m still not sure if Karina’s visits ended so abruptly because I’d chosen hatred over love, or if they ended simultaneously with the charade itself. The latter made perfect sense because my conscience would have fabricated her presence to combat the evil slowly mutilating the good heart she had built inside of me.
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life
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