Beyond Broken

She sipped it slowly. It tasted bittersweet, like all the memories she could recall. She knew she would be alright after this though. It was all part of the good Lords great plan. At lease that's what they told her in church.
Her heart was a block of cement hanging by a chain in her chest, swaying slowly, turning, threatening to drop at any moment. When it did, she knew it would be hell. That was the part she was trying to outrun.
She didn't know what was in this drink and she didn't care. It might kill her, but she was okay with that. She didn't care much about anything anymore. These people could poison her, boil her alive, or make a slave of her if they wanted to. She wouldn't fight them. She was too tired of fighting.
She fought her husband to keep him out of the nut house. She fought the doctors to treat her son. She fought his teachers because they didn't understand him. Her family thought he was a "sick little demon". Years of being strong for him turned into a skittle party and

a shot of who-knows-what when he died.
He died. He was gone. All that fighting, all the isolation she dealt with was in vein, because in the end she couldn't save him. She couldn't make him accepted by anyone. Her husband even divorced her because of it.
But how could a mother abandon her child? It was trying, and it was frightening, but she did it alone. Things were starting to get better after his last therapy visit. His mood improved, he ate better. For nearly two weeks he was making the transition to being a normal child. He wanted to go outside. He wanted to talk and play. He was smiling. By God, he was smiling. Then one day she went to his room to wake him for school, and she found him. He lay on his side in his bed. He looked comfortable with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. She shook him gently but he didn't respond. She shook him again a little harder, and that's when she saw the blood. She ripped the blanket off of him to reveal the blood soaked mattress, and a small