Ch. 1 Pre-Saw: Death in the Family

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Mark Hoffman

"I'm going... you will need to take care of each other," Darcy Hoffman squeezed Mark's hand. Her grip was shaky, her skin dry and cold. Bandages covered one of her eyes while they were stained like red wine on white sheets. The beeping of the heart monitor was the only noise heard through the tense hospital room. His mother, strong and unafraid, had to pause in between words with ragged breath. "I'm going... to be with your father soon. I'm sorry I can't... stay. You only have each other. Don't ever turn your back... on your family. I... will always... be with you."

"We will," Angelina Hoffman was grimace-smiling through teary eyes, lips squeezed in a tight line. She leaned forward and put her hand over her mother's, sandwiching Mark's large fist. Small hands, both of them had such tiny digits. Delicate hands. When did they become so small? "I love you, Mom. Please don't go."

It had only felt like yesterday that his mother towered over him, the one in charge. She had been the one person he always looked up to; but at this moment, she looked so frail. Weak. Who knew a fucking tweaker behind the wheel could take down such a powerful woman. It's not fucking fair, he clenched his fists tightly at the tops of his thighs. Not like this. He felt the dangers of tears breaking across his vision, blurring his world. No, not like this.

"Love you, mom," Mark said, holding back the lump in his throat as he forced his composure to stay straight and strong. His eyes burned but he clenched his jaw and forced them dry. He squeezed her hand, willing his warmth and life into her. He didn't want her to go. He wasn't sure how he could hold on without her to guide him. Their father had died on impact. His mother was barely hanging on. It must have hurt. He knew it must have hurt more than he could have imagined. "I'll look after Angie. Don't worry, I promise. Tell Dad... I'm sorry." He blinked to realize that a tear had escaped, sliding like ice down his cheek.

Darcy's eyelids were beginning to flutter. Her labored breathing rattled outward, sighing out her final breath. The heartbeats were irregular. Slowing.

Angelina's sobs crescendoed as the monitor wailed. He put his arm around her, letting her hang onto him as she broke down. His shoulder had a warm damp spot growing on it. He hung onto that sensation, distracting him from shedding any more tears of his own. She can cry for both of us. He stared at a generic picture hanging on the off-white painted walls. Flowers in a vase. He tried to keep himself focused on the pale blue ceramic and the cream-shaded petals.

It's just us two. He returned to his younger sister. She was only eighteen. Still a kid, finishing up high school. She was planning on going to college in just a few months. She needed him, and he'd take care of her. She'd stay with him. He had just finished his time at the Academy and had a good job lined up. Sure, he was only on a rookie's salary. But they'd make it work. He'd work hard. He'd get promoted. He'd do what he needed to do, so Angie could go to school and have the future she deserved.

"It's going to be okay, Angie," He told her, rubbing her back as her weeping lulled into hiccups and gentle crying. He reached towards the nurse call button, pressing the plastic down while keeping one hand on the back of his sister's delicate spine. He'd take care of her. He promised.

(Power of Will)

It had been a week since the funeral and Angie still hadn't eaten anything. He got to their apartment early that morning, having finished his shift to find Angie sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. No dishes had been in the sink. The trash can was empty. He had told her to eat something when he left twelve hours prior and she said she would. This had gone long enough.

"Angie." He took off his policeman's cap and sat down on the recliner across from Angie's sofa, eyeing her blank expression.

She turned to him, shadows under her eyelids, hoodie hanging loosely over her emaciated shoulders. He could see her neck bones. Her harrowed face pulled the trigger in his skull, making him decide to take some action.

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