Somewhere I won’t be powerless

I remember the first time I lost something to my father, It was my smile and over the years, he has slowly collected everything I had. The rain didn’t stop pouring. It followed me down the empty road, pouring its rage on earth.

My mother rested quietly in my arms, her wet hair clinging to her face as thunder rolled endlessly above us. I adjusted my grip carefully, afraid of hurting her even now.

The streets were nearly empty and the few passing cars slowed briefly before moving on again. No one wanted to be involved with a drenched boy carrying a corpse in the middle of the night. I couldn’t blame them. People survive by looking away. My shoes dragged heavily against the wet pavement as I walked farther from the Montgomery estate. The mansion lights had disappeared behind me now, swallowed completely by darkness and rain.I never wanted to see that house again.

By the time I reached the church grounds, my arms were trembling from exhaustion. It was the church my mother used to go to. The church where her mother was buried. The old building stood quietly beneath the storm, worn down by time but still standing. I climbed the steps slowly.

Then I stopped, because bringing her here made everything real. As long as I kept walking, some part of me could still pretend she was just sleeping and maybe if I spoke softly enough, she would answer me again.

“Mum..”

My throat tightened as I called, she couldn’t speak again. Reality clutched at my chest. I lowered my head trying to hold my tears back. Then the church doors opened and an elderly priest stepped out holding a lantern, his expression shifted the moment he saw her in my arms.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

I said nothing.

Words felt useless now.

The priest rushed down the steps toward me.

“What happened?”

I couldn’t answer because if I opened my mouth, I feared something inside me would collapse completely. The priest looked between me and my mother before his expression softened into something unbearable.

Compassion.

“Come inside quickly,” he said gently.

I followed him in silence until we both got into the church.

It was warm. White candles flickered softly near the altar while rain hammered against the old roofing. The priest guided me toward one of the benches, but I didn’t sit. Instead, I carefully lowered my mother onto a long wooden table that sat nearby. My movements were slow. Like if I handled her gently enough, death would reconsider his take on her. The priest stood nearby quietly, allowing me the silence I needed.

Neither of us spoke. I just stared at her face.

She looked tired.

Life had demanded too much from her for too long.

My chest tightened painfully as I thought back to our happy days.

“She waited for me,” I said suddenly.

The priest remained silent.

“She kept waiting,” I continued quietly. “Even when nobody else cared if she lived or died.”

My fingers curled slightly.

“I couldn’t save her.”

It was the truth. It crashed over me. Bitter and unforgiving.

The priest finally spoke.

“You were there for her.”

I laughed softly. It was a broken sound.

“That didn’t save her.”

Silence filled the church again and then slowly, the grief I had been holding back finally cracked open. Tears slid down my face as I lowered myself beside her, gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping me sane. I cried so much, without making any sound. It was the kind of crying that comes from exhaustion. And for me, it was the years of humiliation. The years of silence. The years I watched my mother rot away while pretending I could endure it.

All of it sat inside my chest refusing to be lifted.

She was the only person who ever called me worthy of anything.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

My voice shook badly now.

“I tried… I really tried.”

The priest looked away respectfully and I was grateful to him.

Outside, thunder echoed across the sky again.

I sat there, until the morning breeze blew everywhere. I couldn’t cry anymore no matter how much I wanted to cry. Gray light filtered through the church windows as exhaustion settled deep into my bones.

I had not slept throughout.

The priest arranged a simple burial near the back of the church grounds where the rain had softened the earth.

There was no grand ceremony, no mourners except I who couldn’t afford a flower..

It was just me, the only thing she truly had.

And her, the only thing that was ever mine.

The coffin was plain wood. It smelt cheap but it was clean, it was given to me by the church. I ran my fingers across it quietly before it was lowered into the ground. This was all I could give her, and somehow that hurt most of all. The priest began praying softly, but I barely heard the words.

My attention was fixed on the coffin disappearing beneath the earth until she disappeared completely. When it was over, the priest handed me a small rosary carefully wrapped in cloth.

“She kept this close,” he said gently.

I recognized it, it was my mother’s rosary.

I took it from him and my fingers tightened around it unconsciously. A strange ache spread through my chest and it felt like losing her all over again. She was a true believer and her religion is one of the few things my father couldn’t take from her.

The pastor's words jerked me back to reality.

“She spoke about you often,”

I looked up slowly.

“What did she say?”

A faint smile touched the priest’s face.

“That you were kind.”

kindness had changed nothing, if I was anything but kind I would have protected her. I would have stopped the world from crushing everything good she had left. My grip around the rosary tightened harder, and for the first time. I thought about everything.

The world never rewarded kindness.

It rewarded power.

I looked down at my mother’s grave. The soil was moist. Perfect for her.

“I won’t beg again,” I whispered.

The wind moved softly through the trees.

“I won’t kneel again either.”

I was certain.

It was a promise to her grave, to myself to anyone who cared to listen. I slipped the rosary into my pocket and stepped away from the grave slowly.

The priest called after me.

“Where will you go now?”

I stopped briefly and looked down at my feet.

Where would I be welcomed? I had nowhere. No home. I had no family. Only a world that had finally shown me exactly what it thought I was worth.

I have to be powerful, it is the only way to survive.

“Thank you priest”

He would let me stay, but I didn’t need to stay at a church.

I turned away from him.

I looked ahead at the unfamiliar road stretching beyond the church gates.

Every step felt heavy.. Where will I go?

I had no idea, but it is somewhere I’ll never be powerless again.