A Mother's Confession

by Kelly Rimmer

warning signs… specifically, warning signs that I somehow missed. I get it, I really do. If there were warning signs and I missed them, that makes this my fault. It’s a lot easier to blame me than it is to blame a dead man. If there were warning signs, that means that this whole situation was entirely preventable – and that means people can stop it happening to them. All they have to do is be a little more vigilant than I was – poor, foolish Olivia… so blind to what was happening right there in her own husband’s mind. I want to talk about it, but I don’t want to talk about bloody ‘warning signs’. I just want to say his name. I want to scream it in anger, and I want to wail it in grief. Mostly, I just want to hear myself say the words aloud – without feeling like I’m making whoever is in the room with me unbearably uncomfortable.