Whispers in the Dark

Snapped

"You think I'm crazy. Just like the rest of them do," Lily said, glancing up at Rick from under her lashes, "but I'm not. I lost a child; I was grieving. But I'm not... I'm not crazy."

Rick brushed her blond hair away from her face.

"Shh," he lowered his head and kissed her, "I know you're not crazy." Pulling back, he gazed into her hazel eyes. "It was a hard time for you, I know."

"You don't know shit! You weren't there, Rick. You're never there. Not when I needed you. Not when Cayla needed you." She pushed him away and got out of the bed. "Always too busy being drunk."

He could see goosebumps on her skin as the cool air swept across her naked flesh, but she ignored it. She didn't seem to care about the world around her anymore, not since her daughter was taken from her.

"You don't know shit," she muttered, looking out at the dark woods behind their yard.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." Rick got up, placing a blanket over her shoulders. "Will you come back to bed, please? It's late." He wrapped his arms around her, and when she didn't shake him off, he saw that as a good sign. She felt so distant now, after Cayla's death. Like she was trying to be one of the dead, trying to will her body to shut down. He picked her up, cradling her in his arms. She had gotten so light; it worried him.

"I see her sometimes, Rick. In the trees. But that doesn't make me crazy."

He snuggled closer to her in bed, trying to remind her of what the living felt like.

"I know."

Throughout the rest of the night he laid there watching her. She kept stiff as a board, her eyes opened and staring blankly at the ceiling. He loved her, oh God did he. And he kept hoping that she would come back to him. She was right; he should have been there. The guilt fueled his need to be here now. Cayla had been his daughter, too. He was going to make this work- together. He needed them to be together; always. They had been through too much to let it end now. He owed this to Cayla, and to his wife; the woman in his arms.

He moved closer to her, his head resting on her shoulder. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

She didn't respond, which wasn't a surprise to him. Tonight had been a good one though. She had spoken to him. It was a step; a baby step mind you, however, he knew he was doing right. He knew he was. It couldn't possibly be better for her to be locked up, regardless of what the in-laws thought.

She needs help, he knew that. And that was what he was going to do, help her. That was his last conscious thought before sleep claimed him.
~~

How is she?

She is doing better.

Are you sure?

Yes.

How about you?

I'm fine. She's the one struggling.

What about the jar, are you going to show her?

She doesn't need to know.
~~

The light was streaming in from the kitchen window, which made the glass jar in his hands appear clearer; almost crystal-like as he held it over the sink. He marveled at it for a few minutes longer and enjoyed the beauty of it all, before placing it back in the cabinet.

"You know, she'll never get better," came his father-in-law's voice from behind him.

Rick shut the cabinet door, causing a soft thud as he turned around. "She will," he said as he stared at Joseph eating his cereal at the table, the spoon clinking against the bowl. "She's just grieving is all. She needs time."