Derek.

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I have got to say that having Harper eight months ago, was vastly different from when I had the twins. Harper wound up being breach so I had to have an emergency C-section. Thankfully all is well now and we're about to head over to Lisa's for our tradition of Sunday dinner.

"She is so precious." Lisa boasts as she holds Harper. Harper is the spitting image of her daddy, right down to his piercing blue eyes and at times, stubbornness. I look over to Chris who is smiling widely as her watches his mom with Harper. "She's precious when she's fed and with Gramma." I laugh.

Later that night after we've Harper to bed and the twins have got home. After Lisa's they stay after and help her clean up dinner. I have this strange feeling that something is wrong, I get up and go check on all the kids one by one. All sound asleep, except for Elijah, he will forever be my night owl. "Everything alright Mom?" He asks. "Yes, I think so at least. Just checking on you kids." I answer and he looks at me confused, "You think so?" He questions. "Yeah, I don't know. I just feel like something is off. It's probably nothing. Goodnight, Eli."

"Night Mom." I close his door and head back to bed. Chris is already sound asleep. Takes me a few minutes to find a comfortable position and eventually fall asleep.

I'm woken up to Chris shaking me awake, I quickly check the clock, 1:08 am. "Maggie, Maggie!" He says again. "What?" I respond rubbing my eyes as I sit up. "It's Bailey. Somethings wrong, you wouldn't answer your phone." I quickly check my phone. I never plugged it in and it died. I grab his phone. "Bailey? What's going on?"

"Mom, it's dad." She pauses and sobs into the phone. Suddenly my heart sinks, "Bailey, what happened?" I ask her not fully prepared for the answer to come. "Mom, Dad... Tried to, kill himself." She lets out to small whimpers. I shot up out of bed, "What? He did what? What happened? How is he? Where is he?" I leap off the bed and begin searching for my suitcase. Chris follows me while asking what is going on. I cover the phone and whisper to him what Bailey told me. He looks as shocked as I feel.

"Mom, we were going to surprise and fly out tonight. He didn't sound weird or anything. We had our usual conversation. Then I called him to make sure he was on his way to the airport, and he wasn't answering. I figured he was already there and already turned his phone off. But I had this nagging feeling I needed to go check the house." She stops to take a few breathes before continuing. I give her time as I anxiously pack my bag.

"Once I got there, I knocked then used my key after he wasn't opening the door. I walked in and heard music playing from upstairs. I knew something was up, Mom cause I didn't want to go up there but I knew I had to." She breaks again, only this time sobs slightly.

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I'm coming to you as soon as I can." I look to Chris who is already on his iPad, I'm assuming contacting the private transportation service.

"Mom, it was horrible. He was lying on the bed. Just like, not normal. Then I saw the gun and the blood pool on the floor. I froze for what felt like minutes before I snapped out of it. I didn't want to touch him you know, like what if I hurt him more, So I checked his pulse like Aunt Laura taught us. Mom, if I hadn't came to check on him. He'd be gone. Hell he still could be I don't know." She cries into the phone. It kills me that I'm so far away right now. I just want to hug her and take her pain away. "I'm walking into the hospital now. I'll keep you updated. I love you mom."

"I love you too sweet girl. Chris has me a flight out and I'll there in forty minutes." I tell her and with that we end the call. I stand in my closet gazing around, not really sure what to do next. "Maggie, are you okay?" Chris asks lightly grabbing my hand. I slowly nod, "I didn't think he would ever do something like this. What if he doesn't make it? The kids will be devastated, this isn't happening. I have to go now." I quickly finish getting dressed and grab my bag.

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