The Hoffman Family

by Helen Young

What would it be like if Amanda Young and Mark Hoffman had fallen in love, and neither of them died? What if they had gotten married and had a child years after John died? Just a far warning, this is kind of a weird story.

14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"No, no, no, no," Was all Amanda could say. She clutched Marks arm and sunk to her knees. "Mark, that's not funny." She gasped. Tears welded up her eyes and clouded her vision. Her kneeled down in front of her. His eyes apologetic.

"I'm so sorry." Was all he could say. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close as she cried onto his shoulder. He rubbed her back comfortingly and kept apologizing.

She didn't say anything. Only cried. Though she never really liked Linda, she never wanted her dead. She'd lost too many people in her lifetime. Her mother. John. Now Linda. Too much unnatural death. All of them were murdered. None of them deserved it.

That night Amanda didn't sleep. She had pretended to fall asleep for Mark's sake. He fell asleep soon after he thought she did. After he was asleep she climbed out of bed and walked to the kitchen. She grabbed the first knife she saw. Her hand trembled as she brought it to her wrist and made a single slash.

Mom.. She thought. She cried out in pain. She made a second slash.

John.. Tears ran down her cheek. She screamed again. The cuts stung more than usual. She went to make another slash when a firm hand grabbed her wrist. She looked up to see Mark's frantic eyes.

"That's enough, Manda." He said sternly. "When are you gonna stop this?" He gripped her wrist harder.

"Mark, I…." She trailed off.

"You what?" He demanded. He gripped her wrist so hard it hurt. She winced. "What, Amanda? What is your reason, because I would very much like to know!" His grip tightened and she cried out in pain. He immediately let go. His eyes were wide and apologetic. She put the knife on the counter and hugged him. He held onto her, more gently this time.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"Me too." She mumbled. She pulled away and looked at her wrist. Her blood covered her arm and began dripping onto the floor.

"Common," Mark said as he grabbed her other wrist. This time he hardly touched her. "We need to clean that up." He led her to the bathroom like she was a little girl who had a boo-boo.

Once her arm was cleaned up and wrapped, they went and laid down on their bed. She cuddled up to him and eventually fell asleep. She felt better when she was close to him.