With the exception of the last section in the prologue, the last few chapters took place in the past, as flashbacks. This chapter joins Jay in the future.

Portrait of a Fallen Angel

Chapter 3: Sleeping Beauty

Jay sat on his bed, looking at the picture of Emma. She was lying in her own bed. She was sleeping. Sleeping so beautifully. Her hair fell around her face, in perfect condition, even as she slept. Such a beautiful girl. Such a beautiful girl who had such a tragic life.

The phone next to him rang, and Jay reached for it. He cleared his throat. "What?" he said into the receiver.

"Its me, man," Sean's voice came from the other end of the telephone.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat again. He pushed his tears away.

"I just wanted to make sure you were coming today."

"Of course I'm coming."

"Good,"he said. "The service starts at noon."

"I know. I got the letter."

"I just wanted to make sure."

"I'll be there. I have to go. Bye." Jay hung up

Again, he looked at the picture of her sleeping. He almost smiled, remembering the day it had been taken.

For some reason, he had been particularly brave that day. Once he was sure Emma was safely sleeping in her room, he had sneaked in through her window. He was so quiet, so mouse-like, that even he couldn't hear his own breathing. He looked at her sleeping angel face as she lay in her bed.

He took a picture and she stirred. He took another one and then hid behind the shower curtain to the laundry room. When he was sure she was asleep he left out the window.

He looked back at her house on the street and smiled. "Someday, Emma," he said. "You will be mine. No matter what."

Jay cleared his throat again and stood up. He brushed the tears away. He straightened the wrinkles in his slacks and made sure all of the buttons on his shirt were buttoned in the right holes. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He couldn't believe what he was about to witness.

He pulled up to the church and stepped out of his car. It took every ounce of courage he had towalk up the steps of that church. He stopped at the door. A huge knot formed in his throat, his hands were clammy, he was sweating. He cleared his throat for the fifteenth time in the past five minutes, wiped his hands on his pants, and took a deep breath. This was going to be the hardest thing he would ever have to do.