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Mary sat all alone in her bedroom. Well, the bedroom wasn't actually hers. She had just taken the extra bed in the attic with Ruthie. It was more her room than anything else. Even though they were sharing the space, no one ever would have known. Since Wilson and Billy were murdered, Ruthie barely came upstairs. Mary hadn't ventured out much, but she suspected that the others all warned Ruthie about crowding Mary's space.

They were right to do so. If anyone was in there spying on her for most of the day, she would have taken it as a lack of compassion and an extreme invasion of her privacy. It would have been especially awkward with all of the phone calls Mary received the next day on her cell phone.

"Hello?"

There was silence on the other end, and then the other person spoke. "Hi Mary."

Anger automatically rose through Mary's body. "Hi Carlos." She took a deep breath. "Who called you?"

He almost smiled on the other end. "Ruthie. I know she shouldn't have, but she was just trying to help you out. Don't be mad at her." Mary didn't respond. She was mad at Ruthie, but that was nothing compared to the residual anger she felt for Carlos. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, just great considering my husband cheated on me and then, once I thought I was getting my life on track again, my boyfriend and his son are chopped up into little pieces. I'd say I'm much better than I have been in a long time." Mary paused. "How are your many mistresses?"

"There are no 'many mistresses.' It's just me."

"And I suppose you're lonely? And, and that is supposed to be my problem?"

"No." Carlos sighed angrily. "I probably shouldn't have called. You're just as frustrating as ever."

"Did you want something? Because in about three seconds I am going to hang up on you."

"Do you want to see me? Do you need me? I'll catch a plane out there if you want me to."

Mary took a few breaths and tried to give him the most level-headed answer she could muster. "It's kind of nice of you to offer, but I don't want to see you. I already have enough to deal with. You would just complicate things immensely."

"OK." There wasn't much arguing with that. He gave it his best effort, and he was shot down. "I'm sorry for what happened to, uh, your boyfriend."

Mary just rolled her eyes. A real man would have apologized for what he did to her before, or in addition to, what had happened. "Thanks." She hung up the phone, not wanting to hear anymore of what he had to say, and leaned back against her bed. Mary closed her eyes tightly and tried to will away the images of the plastic bags that flooded her brain. With her eyes still shut, Mary felt around for the box of tissues on her bed. She laid there for hours, crying herself to a sleep-like state.

An image flashed of a man with a knife, swords, hair. Mary sat straight up, grabbing at her heart. She wanted to rip it out so that she wouldn't be able to feel anymore. Her heart always got her in so much trouble. Everyone's did.

Mary needed to clear her head. Without really thinking about it, she opened the door and went downstairs, through the kitchen, and out to the back stoop. She crouched down and sat there, staring out aimlessly at her backyard. This was what it felt like to lose someone that you really loved. This was horrible. One thing was for sure, though. Mary had never loved Carlos. When he hurt her, when she left him, it didn't feel anything close to this. Mary had connected with Wilson. Carlos was just a warm body in the form of a cold man.

Wilson meant more to Mary than she ever thought he really did. She kept trying to convince herself this time around, after everything that had happened with Carlos, that she didn't need Wilson to function. That Wilson, as much as she cared about him, was just another man. This was nothing permanent, this was nothing long-term. She wasn't looking for a life-changing relationship. She just found him convenient to get over Carlos with. It was easy to fall back into step with an old flame. But after two weeks, it was so hard to be apart from him. They got so close so fast. Deep rooted emotional connections can do that to a relationship.

As Mary surveyed her homestead, her cell phone rang next to her again. After not being able to sleep the night before at all, she was a little bit cranky and didn't want to hear from anyone. When she picked up the phone, she saw a number that she did not recognize. This will be amusing, she thought.

"Hello?"

The person on the other end was sobbing, but trying to stop. "Mary?"

She couldn't exactly tell who was on the other end. "Yes?"

"It's Patrice West." Wilson's mother- of course.

"Hi," Mary said overtly sympathetic. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, just awful." She began to sob again. "Awful."

Mary was going to say that she was sorry about Wilson and Billy, but decided this was not necessary. She was missing them, albeit in a different way, just like Mrs. West was.

"What about you? How are you holding up?"

This was the first time someone had asked Mary this in a while. She started to get choked up, but suppressed her tears as best she could. "I'm- I'm spooked and heartbroken. It just seems so surreal. I keep thinking that I'll wake up tomorrow and it will all go back to normal."

"Yeah." Mrs. West sniveled. "I know what you mean. Anyway, I was calling because Jeff is out somewhere looking at funeral parlors." A few sobs escaped, but after that Patrice pulled herself together. "He's gone crazy. We- we don't even have bodies to bury, really, and he's been talking about caskets."

"I'm sure it's just his way of coping."

"Yes. He was always one of those types who liked to keep busy. What I wanted to know was if you had any pressing engagements for the upcoming week. I would hate to shut you out of the services. You were their favorite person, both of them."

Mary leaned her elbow on her knee and rested her head in her hand. "Um, I don't have anything to do. And, even if I did, I don't think I would be able to. "This," Mary took a deep breath to keep from crying, "this is going to take a while."

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A/N: I love this chapter, if not only for the sheer fact that Mary hates Carlos. But she doesn't really hate him beneath the surface- she's mad at herself for never loving him and, more than that, that he never loved her back. Ever. Wilson wasn't like that at all but now he's gone; it hits home the reality of Mary past, present, and future for her- or at least I hope it does. Besides that, I hate the way I portray Wilson's parents. Usually I have his mom be this flighty person who doesn't know much (which now that I think of it might be modeled after someone's mom I know) and his father is unfeeling but not a bad guy. There has to be some sort of hidden meaning in always making them that way. Whatever.

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Reviews will speed up the while it is going to take.

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