Chapter 58

She looked happy and alive.

He thought to himself as he stared at the vintage photograph of his mother erected in front of her urn.

A part of him was thankful for that. At least, At a stage in her life, she’d been what he described as happy and alive not what he grew up to know.

There weren’t any good memories to reminisce on, so Ollie just stood in the mildly hot columbarium, sweat beading on his forehead.

Perhaps if his eighteen-year-old self had visited, he would be steaming with deep-seated rage and spite and he would surely have a lot to say. But right now, nothing came to his mind. His mind was blank.

He'd stayed away for so many years, and now that he was here, the feeling was neither hot nor cold, just a strange underwhelming emptiness hung in the air.

“Well, well, well.”

Ollie’s lips thinned disdainfully at the familiar voice. As much as he hated it, he recognized the voice. It used to be a voice that frightened him so much but not anymore. If he was thirteen, maybe it