[ WP ] It 's the middle of the night . Your iPhone starts ringing . You wake up . You 're getting a Facetime call from someone who died three days earlier .

It still hurt. Three days later, and the pain had, of anything, gotten worse. Seline, my dear, dear Seline. Ripped away from me. Three days, and my life consisted entirely of pain. 
 
 The case in court was strong, the death was obviously wrongful, the other driver intoxicated on a mixture of alcohol and prescription painkillers at the time. *WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT. GODDAMIT, THAT GODDAMN IDIOT! WHO LET HIM DO THAT*! The mixture was potent, but deadly not for him, but my sweet seline. 
 
 The court case cost money, but I could n't care anymore. I lost all interest in the proceedings, I did n't care for matierial goods, or the verdict of the people. I knew who was guilty, I knew what he had done, and no matter how much he paid, it could n't account for the cost of my broken heart. 
 
 For these past three days, memories of our good times together raced through my head. Our first date, that of a simple dinner in movie, the movie quickly upended by he beautiful sight of her. Our years together, as we finished college, the good and the bad, long nights spent studying together or with a bottle of cheap alcohol between us. I remembered our first house, her giddy face full of childlike glee as we moved in. Those happy times together, in our own place, where the morning light would start our day. 
 
 I could n't allow that light anymore, I closed the shades, kept indoors. But indoors kept reminding me of her. I would see her face when someone called, hear her voice in the empty rooms, feel her warmth. So I took sleeping pills. A fair amount more than recommended, and I slept. Hour's and hour's of blissful dreams where the harsh reality did n't intrude. 
 
 A dream of the night I had proposed, not a month earlier, was interrupted by a familiar noise. The iPhone gave its familiar ring, the face resolving into... Her. I do n't know how, it did n't. I was overjoyed, ecstatic. I acted like a madman, made quite a sight of myself. 
 
 I tearfully stared at the face, which then resolved into... HIS. `` HOW DID YOU GET THIS NUMBER YOU BASTARD!?'' I shouted into the phone. He replied, obviously drunk, `` I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry. It's all my fault. I killed her, I'm so sorry...'' he broke into tears. 
 
 All my distancing broke, all my sadness no longer keeping me shut away, but fueling my anger. `` YOU FUCKING BASTARD, YOU ARE NOT SORRY YET!'' I shouted, throwing the phone onto the bed, hurriedly dressing and grabbing something very deadly. 
 
 I wish I could say someone stopped me, that I forgave him and moved on. That I found a new life, not forgetting Selina, but remembering her in a healthy way. I wish.... 
 
 Instead I'm stuck in this barren cell, trapped with the voices narrating my life, filing my head, replaying those horrible blood filled scenes. I no longer think of Selina, any thoughts from me are channled into finding ways to end this slow, slow torture.
