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Every time he closed his eyes he could see Mary, pinned to the ceiling, her mouth and eyes opened in terror. Her blood was dripping into Sammy’s cradle. John had no idea who did that to her, but he would find and kill them. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life on it.
How will he live without her? God. How will her children live without her. Sam was looking for his mum. He was crying and John couldn't calm him down. Soon, Sam will forget her. But Deanna… how will he explain everything that her mother should?
Maybe if he came to feed Sam instead of Mary, she wouldn't have died?. If he didn’t fall asleep in front of the TV? If… But the next “if” couldn’t bring her back.
The previous day, when John was in the kitchen, making breakfast for them, he heard Deanna.
“Sammy is crying…” For the first time since the fire, she said a whole sentence.
John shrugged and turned to her. He didn’t hear entering the kitchen.
“I know. Do you think he's hungry?” He wanted to keep the conversation going.
“I don’t know…”
She didn’t even look at him.
“Are you hungry?”
Deanna shook her head.
They were staying at Mike and Kate’s house for now.
Kate was Mary’s high school friend. Mike and John knew each other from the army. After returning from Vietnam, they started their own business. Car repairs. John impressed Mike by having a Chevrolet Impala ‘67. Strange, he couldn’t remember buying that car. Someone told him that he should choose that exact model. But John couldn’t remember who it was. He was supposed to buy a different car. Or maybe he was just misremembering things
Mike and Kate met thanks to Mary and John. They had a daughter, just a year older than Deanna. It was her cradle in which Sammy was sleeping in and Deanna wearing her old clothes.
Mike said something about John getting back to work. One angry look from John, made him shut up. How could he just go do his job after that? John planned that after the funeral, they would leave their house. If Mike wanted his job so much, he could have it.
Maybe he should see Missouiri. He met her once already, she was a psychic and could read minds. If someone could believe him, it was her.
John had to finally fall asleep, because he was woken up by Sam crying.
“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” John picked Sam up. “I’ll have to feed him.”
John turned on the lamp on a night stand. Deanna, who earlier slept next to John, on the only bed in the room, now woke up and sat down in Sammy's cradle. She was blinded by the light. For the last few nights, she spent most of her time hugging Sam. Wanting to protect him.
Deanna just looked at him while John gave Sam a milk bottle and changed his diaper. She didn’t fall asleep until John put Sam back.
Before he turned off the light he looked at his black suit. He wore it to their wedding and now he was going to wear it at Mary's funeral. Next to it there was a small black dress.
He wanted to laugh hysterically. It wasn’t even a funeral. Just an empty casket. Whoever killed her, made sure that nothing would remain. If John didn’t see her burning, he would thought that she was missing. Even during cremation, the body doesn’t entirely burn . They lost almost everything. Mary’s journals, photos and clothes. They only had things that were in the car during the fire and few photos from Kate.
He knew that Sam would wake them a few times more and he needed to sleep.
He went to the kitchen and took a bottle of whisky. He poured it into a glass. Just one drink to help him sleep.
Deanna didn’t want to move. She looked after Kate, who was holding Sam.
“Deanna, come on. We’re gonna be late” John didn’t have much patience.
“B-but Sammy…” she cried.
He was tired. Even if he fell asleep for a moment he was woken up by Sam. But she didn’t move. John just picked her up. They didn’t have time for that. Deanna tried to escape, but John held her tight so she wouldn’t fall on the ground.
Deanna didn’t cry. She stayined silent for the whole funeral. John had to hear the condolences from the most of the people who came. He was sick of it. He didn't hear all of it.
In the little gathering he saw a tall, bald man. He recognised Mary’s father. Samuel was looking at John, like it was him who had killed his daughter. John approached him. He could only think about how done he was with this.
“You came.” John’s voice was cold as ice.
“Why shouldn’t I be here?” Samuel asked, mirroring the tone. “She was my daughter after all. I warned her about you. I knew it would be you who gets her killed.”
“It wasn’t me.” John clenched his fists.
“Yes? So where were you?”
John couldn’t stand it any longer. He hit Samuel so hard, that the man fell on the ground.
The worst part was that Samuel was right. He shouldn’t have spent that night in the armchair. It should have been him.
“Dad!” Mary’s sister ran to her dad and helped him to stand up.
Her eyes were red and she had swollen cheeks.
“I warned Mary about you.”
John was ready to hit Samuel a second time, but someone put his hand on his arm. It was Mike. John turned to him and saw Deanna, standing alone between people she barely knew. She was squeezing her skirt in her hands. Kate had braided his daughter's hair in two braids.
John ignored Mike and walked to Deanna. He picked her up.
“Who that man?” She asked while they were walking to the Impala.
“No one.” John lied.
“I-I want mummy…” she burst into tears
“I know.” John didn’t know what else he could say.
“Sammy!”
Deanna ran to the house. One of her braids came undone. For that one moment she looked like a regular kid.
“Dee!” Sam dropped the wooden block, which was probably very tasty, because it had saliva on it. “Dee!” he repeated and smiled a toothless smile.
He reached his hands to Deanna and she hugged him.