![]() She remembered that voice, those horrifying yellow eyes and the realization that her past would never stay where it belonged that it would always be coming after her and she never had choice in it all. She remembered holding John’s body in arms, warm and unmoving, eyes closed, never to be seen again. Remembered how it felt to have her heart torn from her chest and squeezed until she could barely breathe from the pain. Mary remembered having those same thoughts once. All of this, coming back and being face to face with her boys, she hadn’t let herself grieve, not really, didn’t want to think too hard about his passing and the way she’d never be held in arms again or see his smile or watch him teach their boys everything they knew now, for better or for worse. The unfairness of it all washed over her, made her want to scream and protest whatever cosmic force decided her boys needed her more then they needed him, she had seen the way they had reacted to John when he came back, had seen the heartbreak, had heard the quiet conversations, the forgiveness. Her eyes flickered closed, pain spiking in her heart and a nauseous kind of grief twisting her stomach. No, she just needed a little bit longer, to rebuild. ![]() ![]() She understood, really, she did, but she wasn’t quite able to move yet, not without letting something inside her break into pieces she wouldn’t know how to put back together again. She knew her boys were worried, had been sending her concerned looks edged with a desperate kind of need. Mary hadn’t moved for nearly two hours now. ![]()
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