Stinking and bedraggled, the man staggered to the grave and collapsed shakily to his knees next to it.
“You!” he screamed. The word bursting forth with so much rage and pain as to make it almost inarticulate. “You!”
His head went to his hands and he squeezed the bridge of his nose, as if trying to hold himself together, as if not realising how far gone he already was.
It was first thing in the morning, just after dawn, although he’d been awake for days now. The nearest houses were a couple of hundred yards distant, but there were still a few curtains flicked at the screaming man in the graveyard.
“I should have killed you! It should have been me! Once I knew it was you who killed her, then I knew I had to murder you! It was only fair. Only fucking fair! An aneurysm? What the fuck is that? That doesn’t even sound painful. You deserved to fucking suffer, you sick bastard! You deserved to suffer at my hands. That’s what should have happened! That’s what needed to happen, you vicious, murdering bastard. Not this, never this! This isn’t right at all!”