Fear And Consumption

"It's disgusting!"

Charlie could not look away from the monumental tantrum in progress.

Though he was quite certain he loved Cindy, and often dreamed of the life they may build after high school, watching her little brother rage in protest against eating dinner gave Charlie considerable doubts about his girl friend's gene-pool.

"It tastes. Like. SHIT!"

"That's enough!" Cindy's mother snapped, the edge in her voice honed to razor sharpness by years of motherhood. "I won't have that language in my house."

Mrs. Wall seized the psychotic dwarf by the collar and dragged him to his room. She spared Charlie a brief glance that was both apologetic and mildly embarrassed as she passed. The loveliness of her face renewed his faith in the Wall family genetics.

Cindy's mother shoved the boy into his room, shut the door, and clapped her hands together as if washing them of her son’s rebellion.

"If you don't like what's on the menu," she called after him, "maybe you'll work up an appetite after a couple hours in your room."

Mrs. Wall turned to face her daughter’s boyfriend and released an exasperated sigh. The brief exertion had flushed a glow into her skin. She looked radiant.

Don't start checking out her mom, Charlie scolded himself. That's a quick way to get yourself dumped!

Yet it was hard not to admire the woman's beauty. She was tall and fit, like her daughter; it would be easy to mistake the two for sisters. But as Charlie stared, it wasn't for something as simple as lust. It was more like assurance.

This is what Cindy will look like in twenty five years, he mused. Don't screw this up.

"I'm sorry about that sweetie. Bobby can be a little nightmare sometimes," Mrs. Wall said as she returned to the small stack of bills she had been balancing before the adolescent’s revolt. "Cindy will be down in a minute."

"I don't mind," Charley remarked, "This is a beautiful home."

He wasn't just being polite. The house was beautiful. This wasn't his first time inside. He had been there with Cindy two weeks after they had started dating. That was at the end of the summer; when her parents had taken Bobby to Colorado leaving Cindy and her older brother on their own for the week. At that time, the house had been cluttered. DVD's were strewn across the mahogany coffee tables, with soda cans and pizza boxes littering the marble counter tops. Charlie and Cindy had their first kiss on the soft leather sofa while the Walking Dead played on the 72 inch flat screen TV.

Her lips had tasted like bubblegum.

It was the most amazing night in Charlie’s 16 years of life. He had nearly been run over as he walked home in a daze, his palms cupped in front of his face, smelling the scent of her perfume still on his hands.

But now the house looked different. Without the mess of fast food and mood lighting, Charlie could see the countless family photos, elegantly framed and hanging over the mantle. They depicted a snapshot of the American dream. Beautiful blue eyed faces beaming over birthday cakes and wishes that had already come true. Ski trips and deep sea fishing. A little boy, bronzed in the sun of a vacation summer, held up a fish nearly as big as he was. The images were the stuff of magazine covers and memories other families wish they had.

As Charlie took it all in, he could not help but compare the Wall family to the little dysfunctional tribe he called his own. The contrast was intimidating.

"It looks different now, doesn't it?" Cindy's mother asked through a sly, knowing smile.

She knows you were here, his conscience insisted, groping and necking with her daughter. You're busted!

"What do you mean?" he stammered nervously.

"Without little Rasputin on his rampage," Mrs. Wall answered casually, the wily smile still curled at the corner or her mouth. "It's more peaceful now."

"Oh!" Charlie laughed, relieved, "He isn't so bad."

"Pfft! Please. You won't lose any brownie points for telling it like it is. Bobby's always been a little monster," Mrs. Wall said, the fondness in her voice unmistakable. "But he's always a hundred times worse when he's back from my Mother's. She lets him get away with murder."

The light, flowery scent of perfume filled the room and Charlie saw something soften in Mrs. Wall's eyes as she looked passed him, over his shoulder. When he turned, Cindy was standing before him. Her dusky blonde hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she wore a light summer dress that hung just above her knee. She had put on a white cardigan, as they were well into fall and a chill had crept into the evenings. Charlie wondered if she may be cold anyway but realized this would be the perfect opportunity to drape his coat or perhaps even his arm around her slender graceful shoulders.

"Hi." Cindy laughed gently.

"Hi." Charlie responded He grinned nervously and blushed, scarlet.

She never took her eyes off of his. Charlie never imagined anyone would be staring at him with such an open expression of unabashed
("love, please God let it be love")
affection, least of all such an elegant, lovely creature like Cindy Wall. Even as a sophomore, she had attained the fierce adoration of her upperclassman, girls who believed physical beauty to be the pinnacle of human achievement. But perhaps the greatest thing about Cindy was that she was no such person herself. She was neither shallow, not conceited. She didn’t melt into the clutches and packs of popularity harpies who flaunted their beauty and social prestige in displays cruelty and arrogance. Instead, Cindy treated those types with the same friendly regard she extended to everyone else.

And then there was Charlie. While he wasn't the hunchback of Notre Dame, Cindy Wall was still miles out of his league. Yet she had chosen him over the droves of valedictorians and star athletes for the simple reason that he made her laugh.

Charlie was hard pressed to say what was best about Cindy Wall, there was just so much. But deep in his heart he knew, the best thing about Cindy was that she was his.

After a disappointingly brief hug and peck on the cheek, the young couple turned to face Cindy's mother.

"So, are you two lovebirds off to the concert?" Mrs. Wall's tone was friendly but noncommittal; Her attention had returned to neat stack of bills before her.

"Charlie couldn't get the tickets," a strident, youthful voice spoke from across the room.

Cindy's older brother, David plucked a dry looking scrap of meat from his little brother's unfinished dinner and popped it into his mouth. He chewed with little enthusiasm, no more impressed with his mother's cooking than his little brother. Finally swallowing he turned his judgmental blue eyes to his sister's boyfriend and asked: "Isn't that right, Chuck?"

Cindy glared at her brother. "It was sold out before I asked him to take me, Dave."

Charlie thought the defiance he saw in her beautiful face made her look like royalty.

"That's too bad..." their mother remarked, either unaware of her children's sparring or uninterested.

David smirked and Charlie felt sharp thorns of envy piercing his ego. Cindy's brother, like everyone else in her family, was remarkably attractive. His features were chiseled and handsome; his hair the same shade of gold as his sister. Charlie supposed that smirking mouth, both sensual and cruel was already wreaking havoc on those unfortunate girls cursed with a predilection for "bad-boys". David was just an inch shorter than Charlie (something the other boy relished with a meager sense of victory) but where Charlie was lanky, David was muscular, with the physique of a swimmer or basketball player. Of course he was both.

"I heard Chad Doughty punked you out in study hall today," David remarked, having apparently lost interest in one of Charlie’s failures and eager to move on to the next.

"It wasn't worth fighting over," Charlie answered without much conviction.

David snorted, "Insulting my sister isn't worth fighting over?"

"As I recall," Cindy cut in, "Chad -douche-bag- Doughty is your friend."

"Language!" Cindy's father scolded as he strolled out of his study to join them. After a peek in the fridge, Mr. Wall turned to the plate of Bobby's left-overs and wrinkled his nose.

"Whatever," David continued "All I'm saying is if you back down once, they'll walk all over you."

"They won't lay off you until you stand up to them." Mr. Wall added in a paternal, lecturing tone. Charlie wondered if the man even knew what they were talking about or if he was only seizing the opportunity to dispense his cliché fatherly wisdom.

"I guess that's true," Charlie agreed. "Thanks."

Mr. Wall gave him a smile and Charlie felt quite certain the man disliked him even more than David did.

"C'mon Charlie," Cindy said, leading him towards the door.

Just before they walked out, Cindy's mother called her daughter back for a moment. Charlie nodded and left to wait for her on the porch.

Cindy was inside for nearly twenty minutes. Charlie sat, scrolling through pictures of her on his phone while he waited. As the dusk set in and the crickets came out, chirping their dirges for the setting sun, he felt at peace. From the driveway came the queer echoing BOING of a basketball as David came outside to shoot some hoops. His presence served to remind Charlie what a fragile and temporary thing his new found peace really was.

After a moment, Cindy exited the house, joining her boyfriend on the porch.

"Sorry to take so long."

"It's ok," Charlie smiled, waving away her apology. "I'm sorry about the concert. Do you think your Dad would give us a lift to the movies instead?"

Cindy stared at him for a time. Sternness had crept into her countenance. It made her no less lovely, but it worried Charlie all the same.

"Let's just go," She said finally, a weight and urgency in her voice. "We could go to your house..."

"My mom isn't home," Charlie stated dumbly. Unsure of what she meant, but hopeful he added: "I thought you wanted to wait?"

"I do but," she swept a rogue lock of hair from her face and went on, flustered. "The mall then. Whatever."

"No, we can go to my house if you want," Charlie blurted.

"Fine, let’s just go now.”

Charlie nodded, about to ask her what was wrong when it struck him that something else was amiss. The twilight had become somehow too empty. He realized what changed; the sound of the basketball was gone. It was silent but for the crickets. David stood at the edge of the porch wearing his snide grin.

"What? Are you spying?" Cindy asked. The edge in her voice was identical to that of her mother.

David ignored his sister. His eyes were locked on Charlie.

"Aren't you tired of what everyone thinks of you?"

"I don't care what they think," Charlie replied, hearing a whine in his voice that may not have been there but hating himself for it either way.

"Yes you, do." David said simply, " And you think it too."

"Get lost." Cindy told him.

"You need to do something to redeem yourself," David went on as if his sister wasn't there. "to show them you're not a little bitch."

"Like what?" Charlie asked, suspicious but curious all the same.

"The old Macmillan house. I dare you to go inside."

"No!" Cindy shouted, getting to her feet. "We're leaving, anyway."

"Yeah, to Chuck's little love nest while Mommy is away," David said to his sister, his eyes still on her boyfriend. "I heard all about it. I'm sure Mom and Dad would be thrilled."

"Asshole," the girl whispered, wounded. She looked to Charlie beside her, but he remained silent.

"What do say Chuck?" David spoke softly, almost seductively. "No one's set foot inside since old man Macmillan chopped his family up all those years ago. You could take something as a trophy. Nobody would call you a wimp then."

"I don't know..." Charlie said, but the fact was, he did. He needed something like this. He could feel the eyes on him when he walked the halls in school. They saw him, who he was dating, and measured him against her. By simply standing at her side, he stood in comparison next to every guy Cindy could have had. And he knew they found him wanting. He was afraid to go to the house, but it wasn't the threat of the urban legends that haunted its decrepit walls. He didn't want Cindy to see him cave into her brothers taunts. It would be like walking backwards against an escalator. What good was it to gain ground in the eyes of people he hated, only to lose face in the eyes of the one he loved?

"C'mon Charlie," David coaxed, "I'll talk about it in class tomorrow."

And that decided it for the insecure young man. Charlie turned to Cindy, shamed by the sight of her disappointment and what was infinitely worse: her understanding. He tried to affect a playful tone and quipped: "It'll be fun, like a spook house."

She didn't share in his enthusiasm and only shook her head. "Please, let’s just go to your place."

"We will," Charlie assured her. He tried to appear confident but managed only a juvenile desperation. "it's on the way..."

Cindy said nothing more and they left.

It would be their last night together.

They walked along in silence, David in the lead. By the time they reached the long dirt road that led to their destination, the remains of dusk had committed to full dark. They turned on to the unpaved driveway, leaving the safety of the pools of light beneath the streetlamps, and approached the Macmillan house. As it came into view, Cindy's grip of his hand tightened and Charlie begin to share in her trepidation.

The house was in ruins, a derelict forgotten by civilization. Its color was lost, buried beneath the filth and darkness that had enveloped it on all sides. The frame sagged in the middle. It looked as if the walls might just burst out, and the top floor collapse through the level below. Charlie felt certain such a disaster would undoubtedly be triggered by his setting foot in the building. A voice within his mind issued a harsh warning, forbidding him to go inside.

This place has been condemned in every possible way, it cautioned him, by time, by the slaughter committed within. In all likelihood by the department of housing!

The house was full of shadows, Charlie could see them crouched and waiting through its busted windows and rotted curtains. He wondered if a house could have memories. He thought, maybe the ones here would drive it insane. A place haunted not by ghosts, but madness.

This is a killing ground.

"This is pointless," Cindy declared, jarring Charlie from his thoughts. "Who cares what mouth breathers like Chad Doughty think?"

Charlie kept quiet and watched David as he strode up onto the porch.

"Dude." Cindy's older brother proclaimed, as if on the precipice of some great revelation, "To hell with a trophy, you can take a picture inside!"

"Please, Charlie," Cindy pleaded taking his hand she whispered. "Let’s just go."

"Just a picture," he answered, unable to look in her eyes.

Cindy shook her head and followed him slowly unto the porch.

The temperature made an abrupt drop as they climbed the rotted steps. The crickets had gone silent. Charlie took one last look up the road, and considered leaving as Cindy had asked. Then he felt David clap him on the back and turned to see the boy sweep his hand before him. The gesture was plain enough. It said: After you.

The hinges groaned loudly, a sound that was somehow vulgar. It reminded Charlie of movies about submarines, and how their hulls would creak under the ocean's weight as they stalked black, frigid depths. A putrid funk wafted out of the house, a mixture of mildew and excrement. It was dark inside, but somehow not dark enough. Utter blindness would have been preferable to the crowd of shadows that surrounded them as they stepped inside of the nebulous cold. A spongy layer of mold squelched beneath their feet, soaking into their shoes.

"Let’s take the picture and get out of here," Charlie said, surprised to hear the chatter of his teeth between syllables. "It smells like shit in here."

It did. But worse was the feeling that they were not alone. He felt others nearby. He could almost hear the hum of their voices, still vibrating in the walls and the ghosts of their footsteps, still thrumming in the floorboards.

"Take it easy Charlene," David mocked, "I'll protect you."

Cindy and Charlie glared at him, and he held his hands up as if surrendering.

"Alright, alright," he said finally, holding out his hand. "Give me your phone."

This is a set up. Charlie felt certain, his guard going up. Any minute, Chad Doughty or some other meat head is going to jump out of the shadows, shouting.

"Do you want to take the picture or not?" David asked, his expression a perfect mixture of impatience and indignation.

After a long pause, Charlie reluctantly surrendered the phone. He regretted it immediately when that supercilious smirk appeared on the other boy's face.

"Okay, now back" David instructed aiming the phone.

Charlie looked over his shoulder at the snarl of shadows and took a single, hesitant step backward.

"Further..." David encouraged, his face harshly shadowed by the light of the screen.

The darkness behind him looked deep enough to drown in. Charlie felt a terrible sense of vulnerability steal over him as the hairs on his arms stood up. He stepped back, certain that a hand, wet and cold would emerge from the gloom to softly stroke the nape of his neck.

"Further..."

"Just take the damn picture!" Charlie snapped.

There was only silence. Then a blinding flash and the useless snick of the camera sound effect. Pools of purple and green exploded in Charlie’s vision, blossoming like neon doom. He stood dazed in their wake trying to blink the sight back into his eyes. When his vision returned, he stepped forward, reaching for the phone. David snatched back his hand.

"Don't you want to check the place out a bit?"

"Damn you, David!" Cindy screamed, shoving passed her boyfriend to grab for the phone.

Unperturbed by her anger, immunized by years of sibling squabbles, David skipped back laughing, deftly dodging his sisters advance and ducking into a doorway, his childish laughter echoing behind him.

In her dash for the phone, Cindy over compensated, pitching forward. Charlie managed to catch her by the elbow, before she went down. But her ankle buckled at a steep angle beneath her. She cried out in pain.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked, slipping his hand around her waist. He was vaguely aware this was an act he had been looking forward to all night, but found it less appealing under their current circumstances.

She tested her footing, trying to put her wait on the sprained joint. She winced sharply with each attempt, but ultimately managed to keep her feet with Charlie’s support.

"I'll be okay," she grimaced, "can we just leave now?"

Yeah," Charlie agreed, adding lamely, "I've been meaning to get a new iPhone 7 anyway."

Cindy managed a grim chuckle despite the pain.

Charlie raised his head, ready to tell David he could keep the phone, and the picture, when the door slammed shut behind them, screaming on its hinges.

Neither of them made a sound. Even David's maniacal cackling had ceased. The room was silent except for the couples continuous panting. But as they stood in the dark, Charlie began to wonder if there were too many sets of lungs breathing in the room. Sucking in a long drought of air, he held his breath. And he listened. At first, there was only Cindy’s respiration, light and rapid. His lungs began to constrict. His muscles twitched and jerked, but still he held his breath. Still listening. His hands shook. But as he felt a sickly, drowning tingle shutter across his flesh, Charlie heard, above the throbbing beat of the pulse in his head, someone
(very close)
draw a deep trembling breath.

Charlie was about to call out to David when he heard him speak from deep in the house: "Hey watch where-" the boy's words cut off in an abrupt noise that sounded like a hiccup.

Charley started for the door but Cindy yanked him back. He saw what she pulled him away from. There was a shadowed figure standing deathly still beside the door.

There was a shuffle of feet and they turned to see David stumble back into the main room. The phone spilled from his hand, its light throwing dizzying twisted shapes all around the room as it somersaulted to the floor. It landed face up.

David stood in the small wedge of light cast by the phone. He was wide eyed and pale, his chest, a shredded mess of blood and fabric. He fell to his knees, as the phone dimmed to low power mode. Another figure was visible behind him. David stared ahead in puzzled dismay then slumped forward, falling onto the phone, and plunging them all back into the darkness.

A hand fell on Charlie’s shoulder, nails digging into his flesh. He screamed, reflexively throwing his elbow back and connecting with the assailant's face. There was a satisfying smack, and the figure went sprawling.

Ignoring her scream of pain, Charlie yanked Cindy clear of the charging figure, who was leaping over David's body and rushing the young teenagers.

The person Charlie elbowed was slobbering and wheezing, struggling to their feet. Charlie felt certain at any moment he would hear Chad Doughty scream SUPRISE followed by David's laughing. Instead there was a glimmer of metal and something whistled towards him before biting into his flesh. Bright, searing pain slashed down his side, skipping along his ribs, nicking into the bones. A hot, crimson flood washed down his belly and leg. The blood sprayed Cindy and she screamed, reeling backwards and pulling Charlie over with her as she went down.

The person who had slashed Charlie, stood over him, knife raised, preparing to deliver a killing blow. Charlie cocked back his leg and drove it forward with all his might. His aim was true and his heal connected with his attacker’s leg, just above the shin. There was a fibrous crunch and the figure howled as it bowled over. The knife flung from his hand, stabbing down, beside Cindy's head, its handle quivering as it sank into the wooden floor boards.

The attacker Charlie had elbowed finally made it to their feet and charged forward, but tripped over the other who was screaming and cradling their knee. The two teenagers seized the moment to make it to their feet. Charlie nearly passed out as the movement caused his side to tear further open, a fresh torrent of blood streaming out of him.

The shadowy assailants were rising quickly. Not willing to cross passed them, Charlie and Cindy went the only way they could, sprinting over David and deeper in to the house. Their stalking hunters were just at their heels.

Cindy tripped over her brother’s body. Charlie was certain they were done. But she made to her feet and they dove into a bedroom, slamming the door before the others could follow. They barricaded themselves against the door as it shook and buckled on its hinges. The two on the other side were relentless as they tried to break their way in. When Charlie was certain they would succeed, he heard soft click beside him and looked down to see Cindy had found the bolt and locked the door.

The pounding stopped immediately. Charlie laid his ear against the door. He could still hear them breathing on the other side.

"We're going to burn the house down," said a man's voice from outside the room.

Charlie found it familiar and looked down to see Cindy shudder.

"They won't," she whispered hoarsely. "We can wait them out."

"Are you crazy," Charlie searched frantically for some sort of weapon. The room was dark and so he crawled on his knees, hands clawing desperately at the floor. "They killed your brother. They'll do it."

"They won't," she sobbed softly, "trust me."

Charlie was about to ask her if she knew who they were, when his hand snagged a loose board, a moldy splinter sliding beneath his fingernail. The pain was distant and nothing compared to the fire in his side. He felt a sudden sense of hope. The floor board rocked on its nails and Charlie quickly pulled it free. Then he yanked up the ones around. Soon he and Cindy were looking down into a hole. The faint sound of traffic wafted up on the breeze below the house.

"If we book it," Charlie gasped," We can make the nearest house before they even know we're gone."

"Charlie. My leg," Cindy stated disconsolately "I'll never make it."

Charlie felt a hopeless misery drift over him. His ears had begun to ring, and he could see the slick puddle of his blood pooled around his knee. He felt so tired. He looked at Cindy and the sadness in her eyes filled him with a rage.

"What do you want?!" he roared through his ragged throat.

It was silent for a long time and he thought maybe they were gone. And then that voice, oddly familiar answered: "We're here for the meat."

Charlie began to weep.

"I want to kill them," he sobbed.

Cindy stared at the door, her eyes dark. When she spoke it was with cold conviction. A crystallized, malignant hate seethed in her voice.

"So do I."

"Cindy?" he asked.

She turned to face him, fierce and determined.

"You have to run for help, Charlie."

"What? I'm not leaving you!"

"Shush," she hissed. "You need to make a run for it. If you turn back for me they will kill you."

"What about you?”

"I'll be al-.." she stammered, flustered and looked over her shoulder. "Well, if they get you they'll find away in and...kill me too."

Though it felt wrong, Charlie was already lowering himself into the hole. He starred back at her.

Cindy grabbed him by the collar and crushed her lips to his. It was their last kiss; just as clumsy and sweet as their first.

"Charlie, whatever happens, I want you to know I-"

"Don't say goodbye," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper as he ducked through the hole "we'll be together again."

But as Cindy watched him go, she hadn’t meant to tell him she loved him, even though it would have been the truth. She had wanted to tell him she was sorry.


Charlie crawled on his belly through the putrid soil. It was instantly clear where the smell in the house was coming from. It disgusted him to think of the wet rancid soil being ground into his wound; he gagged several times, trying his best to do so silently. Slowly he slithered forward and soon he was filled with a desperate hope that they would make it through. Before him he could see the grass and the faint glow of the streetlights. He had reached the edge of the house.

Above him it was silent. He could not hear the two attackers but was unsure if that was good or bad. He looked up the long dirt road they had walked down in what felt like another life. As he stared into the night, he imagined Cindy and knew he must make this count. It was safe to assume they would be coming after him the moment he made it to his feet.

Charlie raised himself up on his hands and dug his shoes into the dirt, preparing to sprint.

Ready...

Set...

He bolted forward.

Charlie had not made it a single step before a thunder of pain exploded in his face. He felt his head rocked back on his neck like a tether ball, and collapsed onto his face. He felt his teeth, floating in his bloody mouth like ice cubes in red lemonade.

Far away a voice was calling: "Out front, he's out here!"

Above, a clatter of footsteps thudded across the porch before landing, and padding across the grass in front of him.

"Quick. While it's still in the meat," the man’s voice was shouting.

A woman responded: "While he's still afraid."

They were familiar. Both of them.

A rough hand seized his hair, jerking up his head. Before him Charlie saw a ghost. It was a handsome, blue eyed specter, with dusky blonde hair and a cruel smile.

He was trying to make sense of it all when something shimmered beneath his chin and a hot red spray washed over his hands and the grass below him. Charlie went on trying to figure it out as he slipped into the darkness.

Epilogue:

When Cindy woke in her bed, it was well passed noon. She had risen several times and then forced herself back to sleep. She had discovered that from within her nightmares, horrible as they were, it was easier to believe none of the night before was real. The memory of a nightmare, from within a nightmare, was just a dream.

When she could hide no longer she awoke. She had not even undressed or bathed when she returned home and now she could smell the stink of death, and blood, and sweat, and fear on herself. She would go on stinking. She did not care.

From the living room came the din of the American house hold: Vague conversation over the blaring television. The sound of her family reminded Cindy of the promise she had made herself before falling asleep. She found the light of day did nothing to allay the resolve of that promise, and this satisfied her.

She went to greet them.

Cindy was prepared for the swelling and pain in her ankle, but not the full body ache she discovered as she tottered out of bed. She hobbled to the living room, limping and grimacing like a woman five times her age.

The savory aroma of meat filled her nostrils as she came upon her family. They were wolfing down the roast on the table with greedy enthusiasm. Bobby showed none of his previous disdain for his mothers cooking as he ravenously stuffed his red, greasy mouth.

Tonight, Cindy assured herself, when they're sleeping.

In unison, the family looked up at the filthy, bloody, teenage girl who had silently been watching them feast.

There was a large bruise on her mother's face and a genuine look of sympathy. Her father's knee, nearly as swollen as her ankle, had been neatly wrapped. He looked at his daughter with a fatherly eye that was somehow both stern and tender.
Cindy regarded her two brothers blankly as she fished a plate from the cupboard. They stared back at her with wolfish grins of satisfaction.

Yes. Definitely tonight.

Cindy watched as they went on eating what would be breakfast on the last day of their lives. She would shower. She would dress, and she would wait. When night came and her family went to asleep, she would bust the propane valve in the garage, let the gas fill the house, and light a match. But she still hadn't decided if she would stay inside with them. She thought it would be easier to think on a full stomach and took her place at the table.

At this point, she thought, what difference does it make?