Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“…No… NOOOO! Please! My baby!!! I… can’t… breathe…!!!!!”
…DRESS YOU UP IN MY LOVE…
…MOMMY?
…All over, your body… from your head…
D
O
W
N
To your toes…
…In my love…
H
A
N
G
I
N
G
You, from your head, down to your toes…
Grunts. Gurgles. Toppling of furniture.
Silence. Stolen voices.
“…Shit! Fuck!”
Footsteps. Creaking… Song playing…
Hard and fast breathing… Strange noises. Scooting furniture… Grunting… Cursing… More noises…
Front door opening slowly. Screen door slamming…
Car starting up. Tires squealing.
…Dress you up in my love.
“I love you, Casper. That’s what I used to call you. You were so quiet, like a ghost… My tiny baby boy with the biggest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I love you so, so much… I’m sorry I left so soon. Mama is so sorry, baby… so, so sorry…”
Mama spoke tenderly, her words like soft silk and pink velvet. Caspian released his grip on the sheets. His body shook from head to toe, covered in cold sweat. He felt a cool sensation wash over him over and over, like a fan on low, across his wet body. He was saturated with grief.
Small fingers wrapped around his palm and squeezed three times… He smelled her perfume. He felt her all around him. He cried purple tears. He cried black tears. He got cut on broken green vases. He bled out into a cornfield, painting the town red. He cried for Mama…
He was crowned with a crest of white feathers. Three women stood around him, holding hands. Mama. Aunt Angel. Mrs. Florence. They smiled at him and glowed like angels. Keys, letters, photographs…
Aunt Angel showed me who Bobby really was. Was that a key to a hotel room when she’d escape from his drunken episodes? Noah let me hear what Bobby really was. On that call, Bobby exploded with anger, not wanting Noah and me to have a bond. Not wanting Noah to be independent. Not wanting me to know the truth. Mrs. Florence told me who Bobby really was… My uncle. On fire. Her uncle. On fire. Our uncles, in hell… Harrison told me who Bobby really was. A jealous friend who didn’t get the girl…
His sorrow soon morphed to a level of rage he’d never experienced before. A rage that would burn him down to the ground like a pedophile’s house.
He rose from the bed and when he opened his eyes, all three women were gone. But he could hear Mama’s favorite song playing, though on the television there was nothing but a blank screen. He noted a few white feathers on the floor and Aunt Angel’s perfume was ever-present.
He sat on that bed, just like that, for a long while, gripping that purple crayon. He wasn’t sure how he got ahold of it, but he held it tight. He sat there for so long, he was able to watch the sunrise. Filled with so much hate and disgust, he’d scratched holes into the sheets with his bare hands. He gritted his teeth, his muscles tight, his mind racing as he formed a plan, putting the gasoline into the tank of his next move. And then, his lips curled in a smile…
I got somethin’ special for you, Uncle Bobby. You thought you got away with the perfect murder, didn’t you? You sat there grieving with Aunt Angel at the police station, pretendin’ to be in shock at my Mama’s death. With that tragedy, Angel needed you again. She needed someone to be close to her. A shoulder to cry on during these rough times… The divorce you didn’t even know about was called off…
You benefited from Mama’s death in more ways than you ever imagined. Your secrets went to the grave with ’er. She scoffed at your advances when y’all were teenagers. She didn’t want you years later, either. You came over there drunk that night, poundin’ on the door, pretending to be hurt. I remember now… Mama let you in and I imagine after that, you tried to kiss her and touch her in ways you weren’t supposed to.
Hell, I’m sure there’s even more to this twisted tale. You wanted to be in Harrison’s shoes, didn’t you, Uncle Bobby? You didn’t want Angel. My dear aunt was just a consolation prize to you, and maybe, in some way, she knew that, too. Knew that deep down, she wasn’t your first-round draft pick, and you were making her pay for this each and every day. Meanwhile, the whole town thought you were a standup guy. You raised another man’s son—Noah. Ended up looking like a good guy to me, too. You paid the bills. You were a Vet. Took your sister-in-law’s son in, too, after he lost his mama to a so-called suicide.
YOU HUNG MY MAMA FROM THE CEILIN’ TO MAKE IT SEEM LIKE SHE KILLED HERSELF, WHEN IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG! YOU PUT HER THERE AFTER YOU STRANGLED HER!
You played a role this whole time, didn’t you? Well, isn’t that something? A wolf outsmarted another wolf. You fooled me, Uncle Bobby, but that’s only because I walked into this with the mind of a child. Now, I’m a grown man about to make you walk the fuck out and own your shit. Lies never last forever, Uncle Bobby. Cold cases melt in the heat… the heat of a burnin’ house. The heat of an investigation. The heat from the rage of an incensed son hellbent on revenge!