The bear is staring at me, its beady little plastic eyes
follow me wherever I go. She loved that bear, she used to wiggle it
around in the air and laugh; her nose would scrunch up as she giggled.
I loved her. Her keys are next to it, the key to her house on the left,
her key to mine on the right. It’s kind of funny, really, looking
at our two worlds together on the same chain. I’ll have to search
the house for more of her stuff later, make sure it’s all gone.
Don’t want anybody finding it and accusing me of anything. Oh,
god, the smell is awful. The blood is sticking to the carpet and the
walls, I spend a lot of time trying to scrub it off but I can’t
stop gagging when I’m around it. Touching the mess, too, makes
me want to throw up. My senses are betraying me, trying to hurt me for
what I’ve done. I can’t say I blame them.
TEXT by Martin Gaston+ IMAGES by Gillian Kirkland