Another cold day in Hell.  The air cold and stale.  The dead and stricken trees ringing the outside of the property forming a demented cell from his past.  The black leather of his jacket crunched and crinkled with itself as he crouched down to the ground.  Melissa always teased him about wearing it in the middle of winter like this.  But if there was anything that was the perfect definition, he would deal with whatever hardship as long as he could live how he wanted.  The aluminum of the can was stinging with its icy touch on his hands, but he bore it gladly.  He had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

He had their childhood home razed to the ground a week after the crazy bitch went with the men in white.  Melissa offered no objections, this was even more cursed ground to her than him.  There their mother languished in the purgatory of her own insanity.  That was until last week when they were told via phone call that she had finally died.  In her sleep. Choked on her own tongue.  Cracked her skull by banging it against the wall.  Some shit like that.  All that mattered to him was the ending result, that they were finally free of everything that reminded them of the past.  Considering the history of this spot, being their earthly hell during their formative years, it was the only fitting place to finally ditch the bitch once and for all.

The top turned and screwed off as if it were a pickle jar.  For the life of him, he could not understand why they went through the trouble of stashing her in even such a cheap shit urn.  A giant Pepsi can would have suited him just fine.  It was not like he had any intention to actually keeping this fucking thing and putting it in a place of honor in their home.  No.  Unacceptable.  Put her on the fireplace.  Let Kelsey grow up and ask about it.  No.  Fuck that.  As far as she'll know, me and Mel were born full grown.  She'll never know about the circus that was our family.

Without even the slightest hesitation, he reached his hand into the grainy blackish sand.  It was a fine grind, almost as if he just grabbed a handful of ground coffee.  He took the hand out and let the ashes fall between his fingers, not really mattering if it found its way back into the urn.  Here's to you, you fucking whore.  We're finally free.  I'm back to wrestling again, but not in the shadow of that cunt Riley.  We finally have our lives.

The white gloved hand resting upon his shoulder roused him from his thoughts.  "Xavier," Melissa whispered sweetly to him as she knelt down next to him, "You OK?"  She nudged him with her forehead against the side of his head, the white knit hat she wore cushioning the soft blow.  His free hand resting on hers, fingering it with his thumb as he thought.  "Never been better, Mel," he said with a smile as the last of the ashes slipped through his fingers.

She seemed to sense that he was about to rise, standing up moments before he did himself.  Holding fimly onto the thickly cotton sheathed hand that was hers, he took a moment to look down at the pathetic excuse of an urn.  Far too much than she deserved.  With a flick of his foot, the urn tipped quietly over to spill some of the ashes out in flush.  See you in the other Hell, mom.