Sanford Crow

CHAPTER 19

I'm not even sure I blinked; the shock was too great for common impulses. My ears kept up with a steady ring for an hour after the shotgun blast. It was like dynamite exploding in the living room. Eric's eyes were opened and saw it all.

We sat there, for how long I can't say—maybe an hour, maybe twelve. All I knew was that our parents were dead.

Something wet touched my naked toe. I watched where it trailed from.

Drip, drip, drip.

Scanning the room it didn't take long to find its repugnant source. My father, who's blood trickled from his erupted head, was dripping into the ever-growing pool of blood on the floor, into an odious amalgam of Mother and Father.

Drip, drip, drip.

The steady, metronomic pace finally broke my trance and perhaps my sanity. You see, there was this dream I had of my father as a boy, his wrists were cut wide, and his blood dripped into an oceanic flood on the floor. The recollection of it was sinister. It was as if this were all preordained. Like it was all meant to be. It was then I started to scream, loud and incessant, and it filled the room in panoramic waves.

Drip, drip, drip.

Voices filled my head.

"You have to get up."

"Save Eric."

"Save yourself."

"Kill yourself."

My father's voice.

"They were perfect."

Then Eric's, faint and trembling.

"Sanford, I'm cold."

I gathered the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around him.

I paced down the hallway slowly. I looked down at my feet. I saw my footprints tracked up and down the hall in crimson.

I looked outside of the sliding glass door. The snow had piled up to over two feet, and blistering gales mounted it against the house.

"You can't walk in that. You're too small. You're too helpless. Just give up."

I sat on the floor and tucked my knees into my chest, and rocked back and forth.

"This is your fault, Sanford. Your fault!"

As I sat there on the cold wooden floor with my family behind me, I thought about that. I thought about how this was all some life lesson that he wanted to teach. I thought about how I did nothing to stop it. I thought about how I wanted to die. Then I thought about nothing.

I don't know how long I was out for. When I awoke the sun had gone down.

Eric moaned.

I had almost forgotten all about him. I went back to the living room. I put my arms around him, making sure he was still there.

"Sanford, my head hurts," he said in a tired voice. "I'm hungry."

Food? I could barely breathe, nonetheless chew and swallow. I brought him into the kitchen and sat him at the table. After cleaning his face I placed a bowl of cereal down in front of him. It was the easiest thing to make. He shoveled spoonfuls of Sugar Smacks into his mouth.

I looked outside, through the backyard, and I saw her house lit through the trees.

Ava! I thought, if I could only get there. Her father is the sheriff and he could save what's left of us.