Aftermath

Chapter 2 - No Homecoming

Author Note: My 2 year old/MacBook Pro officially died today, may she R.I.P. ('Aftermath' writing marathons and 'The Enemy's Daughter' editing-athons must be to blame.) I'm waiting on data recovery and transfer to new hard drive. In the mean time, I'm 'sharing', (I use the term loosely), with my teenage son--pray for me--it's summer holidays! May god have mercy on my soul.

Please excuse any slow replies or delays in corrections. Will be up and running A.S.A.P. (Cross your fingers, wish me luck and I'll hope to die--don't think that's how that goes, but close enough tonight.

If you're interested, check out my cast and location inspiration board on Pinterest./sandralakeroman/aftermath

Chapter 2

The medication from the hospital caused Lou to sway and stumble, slapping her flip-flops hard against the travertine floor. Yesterday, their rented Villa had been a temple of play, laughter and lazy sunny afternoons. That feeling would not be welcomed here again. Would it ever be welcomed anywhere again, her foggy brain wondered.

She peeked into the den where her boys slept on the pull out sofa. She sat at the bedside and traced a finger against Beau's forehead, sweeping aside an overlong chunk of blonde hair. The boys were sleeping soundly, not a care in the world, not a wound to soothe yet, not an unfillable void to bridge over.

Lou vaguely remembered asking Wezzie and Trey at the hospital to not say anything to the boys over the phone. She wanted to be there, to be the one to tell them, needing to know they were in her arms when they heard the words for the first time that their dad was gone and that the world had just shifted on it's axel and every part of their life was about to be shattered across the floor...they could have this last night to sleep, morning was soon enough to hear that their dad had died.

Sara, the sweet Michigan girl Pilates instructor from the resort had offered that morning to babysit Lou's boys and Eloise and Trey's daughter Lilly, her eight year-old niece.

Sara waited outside the open door and wrapped Lou into a tight hug.

Lou had never been one much for hugging friendly acquaintances, wasn't one much for hugging in general, other than her kids. She politely put up with it for a minute and then pulled away.

"Sorry, Sara, I'm..."

"No, I'm so sorry, Lou." The girl broke down in tears. "Carter and you—he was just so great with the kids—how could this happen to such a nice guy and your family--"

Normally Lou would have stayed and offered comfort and listened to the girl go off, but the sticking stench of sweat and blood combined with the scent of puke that clung to her hair prevented that. She shuffled past her friend towards Eloise who walked silently beside her upstairs to the master suite.

That was the awesome thing about sisters, so much stuff you didn't have to say cause they had half your brain and just knew what you needed and when. Wezzie ran a bath and attended to Lou as if she were a child, washing all the blood from her hair and body. Sara waited in the master bedroom, tiding up from what it sounded like. Her sister drained and refilled the bath with fresh water a second time, not needing to be told that Lou didn't want the faintest trace of the blood of the men she'd killed on her...the blood of the men that murdered her husband.

Lou raised wet fingers to her eyes and gave them moisture. She couldn't cry her own tears—She was alive and not badly hurt, at least not physically, whereas Carter was cold and alone in a plastic bag.

The water awakened her to the pain of the small cuts and bruises all over her body. The worst was her swollen eyes and the seventeen small stitches that Victor's fist had left on her face. It would scar of course, her face would never be the same but neither would her life, her heart scarred so deep it would never...