A check for thirty thousand dollars lies on the kitchen counter. The authorizing signature is hers. She, the thief that stole from me and disgraced my father’s legacy. She thinks this partial bequeathed amount makes up for all she stole. I should just be happy with what I get. But, I am not. I became something dark in the last month. Driven by hatred and spurred on by vengeance. It is an ugly beast to be violated and to seek retribution. It feels like I must partner with the devil so that she will get her just deserts. But, in the end I am lost in a sea of disrepair where the feelings I feel will never be fixed and I will never be whole again.
I will not be treated like shit but I cannot became an ugly thing in the pursuit of fairness. It all needs to be handled so delicately and methodically and without surrendering to the bitterness and potent sting from violation. I must remain myself even when those around me seek to stifle me. I must not become the devil that they want me to be so that they may be in his long-awaited company. Money is an evil thing. It makes people do unspeakable things. But I feel the desire to make things right have set me on fire and made me something that frightens me. It makes me no longer myself and that does not suit me.