WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I GO?

I walk into the apartment carefully. I wasn’t exactly invited, but apprehensively, I entered. As I cross the threshold, careful not to overstep any boundaries, the smell hits.

Jesus.

I start instinctively looking for the dead and find many. Carcasses are strewn across the floor and countertops, misshapen and haphazardly positioned to show that there was no warning that their time had come to an end.

Impossible to determine what their original purpose was.

For pleasure? For need? For wanting to achieve some sort of homeostasis?

It no longer mattered; I was there for recovery.

I pull out a pair of rubber gloves and get to work. It was just me and there was a lot to be done.

I’ve never seen it this bad and was hoping this was the peak, but with conditions like this it is impossible to tell.

Hours pass and the bleach burns less than it used to. I open the windows. The sun set a long time ago and the winter air is a painful reminder that the season is far from over.

I look around, taking it all in. What was once a sad state of affairs now looked like it could house the living again, but would the living want to?

Exhausted, I lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling.

I knew eventually I would have to leave and that would be the scary part. What happened wasn’t scary. What I saw wasn’t scary.

We can hand-hold, watch, teach and support all day, every day but after all of it, if someone doesn’t want to be, they won’t and that… that was the scary part.

So, what happens when I go?