Every time you pass me by, I think to myself— what could possibly be his purpose? Other than to be a pinboard of all the agony and sins that have managed to consume him, a trophy that is sloshed and plastered in nothing but an undeserving freedom. His escape resulted in the downfall of others, a selfish refuge that injured his worshippers; his family.

His presence disgusts me. The ache in my gut, the tightness in my chest— why of all people did he survive?