Holy shit… I couldn’t believe it. For a long while tonight I could not remember my first psychopath’s last name.
He came into my life six and a half years ago, and tore it apart. The world does not know this (not much of the world, anyway), but I do. I went No Contact just about five years ago. He died of a drug overdose in his wife of six days’ basement, nearly four years ago, I learned this through the grapevine.
It was only then that I stopped looking over my shoulder in fear. And the truth of the multiple lies and lives he was leading was discovered, also making its way to me by rumor. I knew he was a psychopath shortly after No Contact, but the truth was far worse than I ever imagined. I was, and still am, glad he is dead.
They say we keep our loved ones alive in our thoughts and our dreams. As for this guy, I hope that forgetting his name means he’s that much closer to never escaping Hell.