It's Not That Simple ((Epilogue))
First and foremost, let me thank each and everyone one of you who has ever read a chapter of "It's Not That Simple". It means so much to me! And those who have stuck with the story? Pssh! Bless you! LOL! I can't say anything else but that. Let's see, now. I've killed off several characters, had a creep-o kiss a 16-year-old girl, had several battle scenes, including weapons of the gun-ly kind, and basically made a twisted tale of woe and lost love. :P How do you deal with me? Once again, Bless you! LOL!
Now INTS is coming to an end. *tears up* Although I'm sure all of you are cheering in your seats right now. Well, this has been crazy! I wasn't even planning to continue this story until you guys commented on Chapter three! Thanks for that! It's been a challenge to keep this ongoing. I really don't think of it as mine, so much as yours....you've helped me tons and tons!
Here it goes! THE END!!! *falls over, dramatically*
I got married, you know.
Fast forward ten years, and you'd see me standing next to a handsome man, looking in the mirror at my growing stomach. I carried a little life, soon to be born and called Brandon. I named my daughter Marion--who still remains my friend to this day.
Somehow, I've put my painful past behind me. It aches to think of all the troubles I went through. I cry every now and then, when the memories become too strong. My therapist says it's healthy to let your emotions out. Luckily, my saving grace was the handsome man, named Logan. He holds my hand when I need comfort, wraps his arms around me when I need warmth, whispers sweet words in my hair when I feel as if I'll fall apart.
Little Brandon has grown in a flourishing, strong, thriving young man. He has a lovely wife named Susan, and a little girl called April. My grand daughter. It's weird to think of me as old, but, at fifty-six, I guess I am.
My daughter, Marion, is off at college. She sends pictures over email every now-and-then. My replies are always long. I miss her.
Phillip was released from prison five years later, when I was twenty-one. Five. Years. For good behavior. I hired a lawyer and put a restraining order on him. Word is, he up and moved hundreds of miles away to Washington.
I was pleased.
And now, I tell this story to my kids. They're old enough to know. I want Brandon to feel his namesake deep inside him. I want Marion to hold onto a little piece of her "aunt." I want everything for them.
Sometimes, in my dream, he visits me. We sit across from one another, joining hands, and close our eyes to pray. He doesn't say anything, just stares.
And I feel whole, with him. Feel like my heart is healing.
But then, his eyes meet mine, and I hear the shot of the gun that went off. He reminds me that things aren't that simple.
They always almost aren't.