Pain threshold

It hurts.

I was asked yesterday to listen to Etina, Berolin and Andreas on the witness stand in the case of their murdered brother. They wanted some pointers as to what they needed to think about in preparation for the appeal trial that starts today.

It hurts.

Listening to three people so close to me, talk about their thoughts and feelings about their big brother murdered by his own cousin, hearing how the lawyers tried to come to the conclusion that they hadn’t seen him much in recent years and so the loss couldn’t be that great, to hear Etina say that she knew she had a husband at home, that was suffering too but knew he was holding it all in due to her need for support.

It stings.

Andreas broke down on the stand when asked to describe how his father is dealing with it all. He has been heard to say he no longer has a heart (Fuat means ‘heart’ in Arabic). That his mother cooks a meal for Fuat every day, gives it to one of her other children as someone needs to eat it. That she talks to him every day.

It stings.

There are no doors to go through, I am stuck in a pain of which there is no escape. For those around me need me more for support, they can’t comfort me and I look to work as therapy, as release. There has been much joy and I am thankful for those around me, helping me to make that work.

But it hurts.

I hurt.

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About Mark S. Deniz

English teacher, writer, editor, publisher, reviewer and blogger. Founder of publishing company, Morrigan Books and imprint, Gilgamesh Press and editor-in-chief for review site, Beyond Fiction. Also cycles, plays floorball, listens to lots and lots of music, reads a ton of books and tries to fit in some TV, film and writing too. View all posts by Mark S. Deniz

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