❝In which a celebrity dials a random number in hope of finding one last thing to make him smile before he commits suicide at the end of the month.❞
"I'm going to commit suicide in one months time."
"I think you have the wrong number."
"It can't be t...
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"Why don't you come on in, we'll clean you up sweetheart."Lewis did not question his wife's sudden willingness to let strangers into their home. She had always been of the giving nature and hibernating from the world had only seemed to enhance her need for meeting new people. He wondered how she would have felt if he had told her that the boy she was letting into her house was the reason that her children were no longer breathing.
Although Lewis stepped aside in order to allow the teenagers to pass through, he couldn't help the sudden hostility he felt towards the pop star. There was a murderer in his house; a thief of life. Lewis had to calm himself with clenched fists and slow breaths, reminding himself that the boy was not murderous, simply reckless.
Lewis wasn't sure which one was worse.
It was in that moment that he envied his wife. His wife who could look upon the boy who murdered her children and feel no hatred at all. She did not have to contain her fiery heart. She did not have to dig her nails into her skin in order to prevent herself from launching her body at the boy. Lewis couldn't help but feel jealous of her immobility. Whilst she had lost the ability to walk, he had lost the ability to think. The lucky woman had no recollection of the horrific event other than the pain she felt as her rays of sunshine were dimmed down to fireflies, drifting up to their rightful place in the sky.
Heather was not haunted by the blood, the screams, the guilty eyes or the shadow of a reckless man who stalked their halls.
