Graveside Talk - 1

As I near my mother’s burial mound, I hear my father’s muffled voice. It takes me a few seconds to understand what he’s saying, but I’m not surprised when it’s a string of vile insults against her and me. Whore, traitor, disgusting, worthless. I’ve heard these words time and again. They mean nothing to me now.

But his voice.

It lacks a particular venom that I’ve grown accustomed to. There’s no punch to his slurred hatred this time. But the pungent smell of liquor lingers heavy in the air surrounding him. At least that’s consistent. This wouldn’t be a Deadrick Pride rampage without the whiskey. Though I must admit, I don’t appreciate the venue change.

I didn’t think he’d remembered where she was buried. Then again, he hated her so much it would be impossible for him to forget. If it were Wesley or Quinn, I’d forever have their grave site ingrained in my memory. I’d visit every week, just to make sure they’re right where I left them.

“I hate you so much,” Deadrick groans into the soil, p