Damned If I Do *Matt Murdock* (book one of Damned)

A tribute to your glory (Sergei)

That stone was a poor attempt to pay a tribute to her - she deserved so much more. He couldn't afford it though.

His chuckle mingled with a sob and he raised his gaze to the grey sky. Frozen drops of water fell on his face, biting his cheeks, replacing his dried tears. He wondered whether God was watching. Laura used to believe He did. Sergei was much more sceptical.

Ever since they had discovered her illness, he had been trying to find his faith, so he could pray for her health. Praying was... good, giving him peace and hope - only it hadn't paid the medical bills and his job as a computer technical worker hadn't sufficed. They would have stopped her treatment. He had had no other choice but doing what he did.

Sergei was angry with God for taking his wife – she was too young. But he hated men more. The men who decided long healthy life needed to be bought. God spread love, God was supposed to be love, but Sergei hated. He hated one particular man from the bottom of his heart, so intensively he wished for his pain and suffering.

Ashamed of his thoughts in the place of the final rest of his wife, he looked around as if someone would read his mind. No one was watching him. There were few people, guarding their own altars, consumed by their own grief. Who had they lost? A parent? A kid? A lover? A friend? It didn't matter. The hole in their chest would feel the same. The emptiness.

Sergei ran his fingers over the cold stone. He wished for a marble one. Or for a statue of an angel, who would watch over his wife's ashes. He was lucky her parents had found enough respect to buy at least this one and had let him add and wife despite hating him.

Laura Nagel
* 2.3.1981
† 6.10.2016
Beloved daughter, sister and wife

Sergei hadn't been with his wife in her last moments. No. He had been rooting in jail, after he had tried to rob a grocery shop to get money for his wife treatment and he had gotten caught. There was only one man to blame. And it wasn't himself.

"Mr. Nagel, I presume," a rough voice spoke at his side and Sergei turned around to face the intruder of his musing. He didn't recognize the man. He guessed he was in his forties, expensive suit and luxury coat. A forgettable face with compassionate expression.

"Yes." What do you want? Leave me alone.

"Excuse me for disturbing your grieving and let me tell you how deeply sorry I am for your loss," he offered in a polite voice, but Sergei wouldn't let him deceive him.

"Who are you?" he demanded. Why are you talking to me?

"My name is not important. Our common interests are."

Sergei didn't like the man. He spoke in riddles. And Sergei doubted they had common interests. He didn't have any. He had lost his wife. He had no friends. His only company was the silence and his hate.

"What do you want?" Are you leaving soon? You should.

"Like I said. We had common interests. I am looking for an acquaintance. For a capable man like yourself," he was talking to him kindly, pleading. "I lost my wife too. Not to the arms of death. She left me together with my daughter after my business went down."

Sergei laughed with no humour. "That's very different. You and I, we are nothing alike."

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Nagel. My business was taken down by one man, who robbed me of my loved ones. And I happen to know that the very same man caused your pain as well."

Sergei sharply spun his body and took the man by his collar, rage crawling out of him "How could you possibly know? Who the hell are you?!" he hissed into his deadly calm face, eyes squinting, searching for any clue or any hint of fear.