The Blissful Grief

Chapter Two - Jane Edwards

"Come here," he whispered to his wife, who's eyes were bloodshot. Her hands shook and her lips wavered. She wanted the suffering to end. She was scared. "Come here, Anne."

As Logan Edwards held his sobbing wife against him, little Jane felt lost.
A dad holding his wife while she cries was not foreign to Jane, she was a girl who relished movies. But the scene in front of her was definitely foreign to her.

Their living room, which was ever so clean and beautiful, was now anything but clean. Or beautiful. The carpet was stained with wine, she could say. Pieces of glass were everywhere. The thin, thin layers of paint on the walls had been clawed at, evidently, although she had to look close to notice.
But none of these bothered her as much as her mom did.

Anne Edwards was a pretty woman who loved her husband and her daughter more than anything the universe could provide her with. She had mesmerising, big eyes and shone with joy all the time. Jane knew that her mom could make anybody happy, just by being there.

"Mum, how do you make others happy so easily? Teach me! Teach me! Teach me!" She once said to her mother, she recalled now.
"When you are genuinely happy, you can make other people happy too! I have you, so I am happy! If you are truly happy on the inside, you can make people around you happy too!" She said with a wink and tickled Jane until she was breathless.

But now, Anne looked and felt gloomy. Her long blonde hair was a mess of tangles and rubbish. She had grown thinner, and weaker. Her pale face had lost its charm, replaced with fear. For death, Jane knew, although her parents hadn't told her. For the death of their perfect family.

Jane stood there, staring at both of them. Her mother's back was to her, and she was glad. She knew she'd cry once she looked into her mothers face once more, just as she did everyday before drifting off to sleep.

Logan looked right into his daughter's eyes all this time, those pupils of joyous green that were damp with grief now. Jane stared back, trying to show support and courage.

"I am not scared of death," she whispered, genuinely.
Her mother spun towards Jane sharply and looked at her small daughter of eight.
Nine in two weeks, Anne thought to herself. Nine if my baby lives through today. Nine if she's not.......not chosen today.
But instead of crying, Anne gave a weak smile. Her daughter needed her!

She turned around to face her husband. As handsome as ever, with dark hair and godlike features. She pressed her body against his, her hands around his neck.  She felt a tear land on her shoulder and she looked up at her love.
She smiled for the first time in days. She wiped away his tear and kissed him like its the last time, which it could be. His strong arms were tight around her waist and she wished this could remain forever. But no, it wouldn't, she knew.

After bleeding love for each other, they finally stepped out of the house and into the crowd.