Chapter 7

Christmas…His breath caught. Lights on the houses, the cop cars, blurry, hot blood melting cold snow, voices shouting things like, “Murderer,” and “How could you?” And the worst?Him saying, “Sorry, I’m so sorry,”over and over again…

How many apologies, confessions, and admissions would wash away that much blood? It was a question Michael hoped one day to answer.

It was the heave of his chest that made him come back to reality. Michael blinked rapidly then jumped when the cat moved against his legs.

“Fucking cat,” he grumbled as he made his way to the bathroom where he immediately turned on the shower and let the water run until steam began to rise.