Hi, everyone. How have you all been?
I wrote the majority of this while writing "A Cry in the Park".
You don't have to have read "A Cry in the Park" before you read this, but it will probably make more sense if you do.
Chapter 1
The air was full of excitement at Wharf Park. The crowd that stood behind the barriers chatted happily, and the dozens of volunteers and rescue personnel had looks of relief and joy on their faces. Of course, they had reason to be happy; they were just hours away from freeing Louise Belcher, and it could not come soon enough.
The sun was shining brightly, and the drillers gathered near the tunnel, talking animatedly. There was a sense of release in the air; all the worry and tension was slowly dissipating, and the feeling of excitement could be felt by all.
Douglas Farrell, the underground safety specialist, was hovering near the rescue shaft, waiting for the digger to come up, so that he could go down and remove the bricks separating the little girl from freedom.
The rest of the diggers and volunteers were standing nearby, waiting for the moment when she would come up.
Tim and Charlie remained by the well, talking to her. Again, she was silent, but that was nothing unusual.
The Belcher family, along with Teddy, Mort and Big Bob, were standing near the well, looking relieved.
When the Fire Chief, James Richards, received the news that the workers had finished, he approached the Belchers.
"Well, we're done widening the hole," he told them, looking at their excited faces. "When he comes up, we'll send the mine specialist straight down to start removing the bricks." He looked over at Bob as the man sniffled and wiped away a tear. "We don't know how long it'll take to remove the bricks," he admitted. "Douglas has told us that he needs to do it carefully, so it may take up to an hour."
"As long as they get her out," said Bob, wiping another tear away.
"We're very close," Richards told him. "With luck, she'll be out before noon."
Bob checked Teddy's watch as Richards walked away; it was 10:20am, and he looked up, watching as Douglas was rigged up.
"I can't believe it," he said quietly, his heart thumping with happiness. "They're gonna get her out." A smile resting across his face, Bob, his family, Teddy, and Mort watched as Douglas was lowered into the tunnel, down the 87 feet to the very bottom. When he was there, he unclipped himself from the cable, and peered into the cross-tunnel. Switching on his mining light, he climbed in.
Douglas wriggled through the tiny tunnel on his stomach, breathing heavily. When he had reached the well, he forced himself onto his knees, a difficult task as his head was now touching the roof of the tunnel. Picking up the hand drill, he held it up to a brick at the bottom of the well. He refused to hold it any higher; another cave-in would be disastrous. He was nervous about using the drill, because of the vibrations it was going to cause, but it was the quickest way, and so he tentatively began drilling a small series of holes in the mortar. Soon enough, the drilling was done, and he took a small hammer and chisel from the floor of the tunnel, and he was able to start chipping away.
After a few more moments, the mortar was almost completely gone, and he put the hammer down and grabbed the brick. It was loose, and he wiggled it out, before removing some more. When had removed a fair few, he leaned forward, looking through the gap and into the well. He saw Louise instantly; she was slightly to his right, almost opposite him. Her head was resting on her right shoulder, and he couldn't see her face.
"Louise?" he called, before reaching for his walkie talkie. "Chief?" he said, "I've broke through; I can see her."
"Great," came Richards' voice. "Is she alive?" he asked quietly, and he held his breath waiting for the answer.
"I'm not sure," said Douglas, looking at Louise's still form. "Louise? Louise?" She wasn't moving, and Douglas quickly removed another brick. "Louise?! Louise!" he shouted louder and louder, but there was still no response from the little girl. There wasn't enough space for him to reach inside the well, but Douglas took a deep breath, and blew as hard as he could into the gap, before screaming Louise's name. She still didn't answer or even move, and Douglas removed another brick, still calling her name. Upon closer inspection, she didn't seem to be breathing, and his heart leapt into his throat.
He began hurriedly pulling more and more bricks out, working as quickly as he could. He could hear the voice of Richards faintly through the walkie-talkie, but he ignored it. Reaching into the well, he placed one hand on Louise's head. It was cold; she was freezing, and she still didn't move.
Douglas began to dig through the rubble that she was trapped under; paramedics be damned, he couldn't wait for them. Like a dog burying a bone, he dug into the broken bricks until he had pushed some of it aside.
Placing one arm behind her cold back, and forcing his other under her knees, Douglas pulled Louise out of the well. He placed her limp figure on the floor, put a hand on her chest, and then pressed his ear to it when he didn't feel anything.
"Louise? Louise! Come on!" He tried to turn her head to him so that he could administer CPR, but it had stiffened and wouldn't move, and so he began pumping her chest.
Deep down, he knew it was fruitless, he knew it wasn't going to work, but he wasn't going to leave until he had done everything he could for her.
Gently grabbing her, he turned her the other way, so that he now was able to see her face. Her eyes were closed, with bags under them, and her hair was messy. There was a small bruise on the right side of her jaw, and another on her temple. Another bruise adorned the left cheek of her dusty, dirty face.
Douglas continued pumping her chest, before leaning down and giving her mouth-to-mouth, even though he couldn't part her lips. He didn't know how long he repeated the process. He was hoping against all hope that there was just the tiniest chance...
But Louise remained cold, limp, and silent on the floor of the tunnel.
Shaking his head, he placed two fingers under her nose in desperation. Nothing.
Leaning back, he placed a hand over his mouth. They'd lost her. They'd failed.
"Chief?" he picked up his walkie-talkie, trying to keep his voice even.
"What is it? I asked you if she was alive; is she okay?"
"She's dead."
"... What?"
Douglas heard the confusion in the man's voice.
"She's gone, Chief. We didn't get to her in time."
"Are – are you sure?"
"I've just spent the last half hour trying to resuscitate her."
"Oh, God," came his voice, and Douglas knew that he was devastated. "Okay. Okay. Um, I'll... go tell the parents, then. Wait, before I do, I'll send the doctor down there."
"Sir -" he began but he was cut off.
"No, I know, but at least this way, it's... official."
"Okay, sir. Tell him to bring a black cloth or blanket."
".. You got it," was all Richards said before the walkie-talkie went silent.
Richards approached Cabell and stood next to him.
"Douglas wants you to go down there and.. check something," he said, doing his best to remain neutral.
"He doesn't wanna wait for the paramedics to bring her up?"
"No, no, he says that this is something that needs to be checked ASAP." Richards didn't want to say anything. Not until he was completely sure. Not that he didn't trust Douglas; he just wanted a second opinion.
He remained where he was as Cabell was rigged up, not daring to look at the Belchers. If he did, then he was sure he would inadvertently give something away.
When Cabell reached the bottom of the shaft, he found Douglas standing there, waiting for him, making it very cramped.
"What's the problem?" he said, unclipping himself with some difficulty.
"She's dead," said Douglas, and Cabell froze.
"What?"
Douglas only nodded and gestured to the tunnel. Saying nothing, Cabell crawled into the tunnel.
Louise was where Douglas had left her, just outside of the well, her body limp and her head stiff. Cabell checked her pulse, only to find nothing there. He pressed his fingers to her neck, and attempted to lift her eyelid, but they had stiffened and wouldn't open.
In the shaft, Douglas looked up, hoping, waiting for Cabell to tell him that he was wrong.
But that didn't happen.
Instead, Cabell struggled back through the tunnel, holding Louise's body. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.
"How long?" Douglas asked.
"A few hours," came the reply, and Douglas nodded, inhaling deeply.
"Chief?" he again reached for his radio.
"Yes?"
Douglas could hear the anxiety in his voice. "She's dead," he repeated. "She's been dead for a few hours."
There was silence on the other end, before he heard a shuddering sigh.
"Okay, then," he said, and Douglas heard a slight tremble in his voice. "I'll let the family know, and clear everyone out. When they're gone, I'll let you know, and you can.. bring her up. … I'll get you a black cloth."
Putting down the radio, Richards finally glanced over at the Belchers. They looked so happy. How was he supposed to tell them? Taking a deep breath, he walked over to where they were. On his way, he passed officer George, and whispered something in his ear. The man's jaw dropped, and then he quickly left. Richards momentarily debated whether or not he should tell the other officers, but he decided that letting the family know first, and right away, was the most important thing.
"Mr and Mrs Belcher," he began, not knowing how to tell them.
"Are they getting ready to bring her up?" asked Linda, her hands clasped in front of her. He looked at them, and then at all of the people in the park, surrounding them.
"Come with me for a moment, please," he said, leading them back to the ranger's station. The least he could do was give them some privacy. Teddy, Mort and Big Bob stayed where they were, looking confused.
Once they were inside, Richards again turned to face them, looking at their expectant, eager faces. "Mr and Mrs Belcher, I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm afraid we didn't get to her in time."
Bob and Linda looked confused, like they didn't understand what he was saying.
"What?" asked Linda.
"I'm afraid Louise has passed away. I'm so sorry," he repeated. Linda shook her head slowly as tears pooled in her eyes, and placing a hand over her mouth. Bob's eyes widened, but his face was blank. Gene and Tina looked as if Richards was speaking a foreign language.
"No, no, no, no," Linda muttered robotically, and Bob began to shake his head.
"Douglas told me," said Richards, "and I got the doctor down there just to be sure, and he confirmed it."
That seemed to be the moment of truth for Bob and Linda, who broke. Anything else Richards had to say couldn't be heard over the anguished, inhuman howl from Bob, who had collapsed onto his knees, sobbing, and the heartbroken wailing from Linda.
"I'm so sorry," he repeated, not having anything else to say. "We did everything we could."
"That's not true!" screamed Bob. "If you'd done everything you could, you'd still be down there!" He buried his head in his hands and sobbed.
"She can't be dead! My little girl can't be dead!" cried Linda.
"He tried for over half an hour to bring her back, but he couldn't." Richards lowered his voice. "We're going to clear everyone out of the park, and then we're going to bring her up, okay?" He picked up his radio, and called for Carol to come and be with them.
When she had arrived, Richards walked back over to the well, and raised his hands, causing the reporters to gather around him. "I have an statement I'd like to make," he said, waiting for silence before he continued. "It is with great tragedy and sorrow that we announce that Louise Belcher has died. She passed away a few hours before rescuers could reach her. We respectfully request that all personnel, media and onlookers to clear the area before we bring her up, and we ask you to respect the family's privacy at this time."
The crowd were stunned. Most of them remained where they were, in shock. How was it possible? Louise couldn't be dead.
It wasn't until the policemen began to shepherd them away that it sunk in. Deputy Police Chief Jack Davis prepared the ambulance and the medics to take the body away. Tim and Charlie made no efforts to hide their tears as they moved everyone toward the direction of the entrance gates. Both of them wanted to stay; they'd been there for so long, they had to find out if it was true. But they couldn't, and they had to head towards the gates with everyone else, themselves and the other officers and firemen automatically forming a barrier that herded the crowd away from the well.
"She's dead?" came the many murmuring voices. "She died?"
"Oh, my God," said Mort quietly, his eyes wide. "This can't be real."
Teddy was loudly sobbing, as was Big Bob. They were in such a state of shock that they didn't even realise they had been moved almost completely out of the park, along with everyone else.
"No, no!" Big Bob was saying, shaking his head. "Not my granddaughter, no!"
"They-they've made a mistake; they must have!" Mort insisted, his voice trembling.
"Oh – Oh, my God!" Big Bob sobbed, burying his face in his hands, as Teddy and Mort huddled around him.
The police were trying to get people to go home, but many wouldn't. The crowd members had left, but were right outside the gates, seemingly frozen in shock. A lot of the volunteers were sure that it was some kind of mistake, and were waiting for the second announcement, in which it would be revealed that Louise really was alive, and she had just been sleeping.
But the police kept doing their best to herd them away, and eventually, they were all removed from the park. Once outside the gates, the volunteers, firemen, reporters, and family and friends remained where they were, needing to know more. How had this happened; they were so close. Surely, she could still be saved?
The kids' were standing there, none of them not knowing what to do or say.
"This can't be happening," said Regular-sized Rudy, wiping his wet face with shaking hands. Zeke was crying, Millie was inconsolable. Rudy looked back into the park, but could see nothing. He was so certain that she was going to make it, but... He could only cry and hide his face, and Zeke embraced him tightly.
When everyone had left, the Belchers returned to the well. The black cloth had already been lowered.
"You're wrong; she isn't dead. You're wrong. You'll see," Linda kept saying, as Bob continued to cry. Richards could only signal for the cable to be raised and stepped back.
They waited, seemingly forever, as the cable slowly moved up. Bob straightened up and wiped his face clean, and Linda clutched his hand tightly.
In unison, they reached out and pulled Gene and Tina towards them, the four of them hugging fiercely.
After a while, Dr Cabell came into view, with something small wrapped in black in his arm. Bob couldn't help himself; he rushed over and pulled the cloth back. There she was, his youngest child, her eyes closed, her face bruised and expressionless. She looked just as if she were sleeping. Bob burst into tears again and took his daughter from Cabell. He fell to his knees, as his family gathered around him. Linda pulled the cloth back further, trying to hold her daughter's hand, crying harder when she realised how swollen and blackened it was. Louise's black, swollen legs were still wrapped up in the cloth, and her arms were by her side. Her treasured bunny ears were dirty.
Gene and Tina were rooted to the spot, unable to believe their eyes.
"Louise?" Gene whispered.
"Come on, Louise, wake up," Bob begged, stroking her hair, her forehead, doing his best to avoid shaking her. "Please, please don't leave us. Wake up."
Linda moved and began to cradle Louise's unmoving head. "Please, Louise, wake up. Why won't you wake up?!" His sobs became hysterical, and he held her tighter.
Gene and Tina got closer, looking down at their little sister, tears silently pouring down their cheeks. Seeing Louise lying there, so slack and cold made it all the more real for them. Tina knelt down and took Louise's cold hand, shaking her head in disbelief. Gene sat next to her head, staring. He reached out touched her cheek. Ice cold, and more tears fell down his face. "You can bring her back, can't you?" Bob turned his tear-soaked face up to the doctor. "I mean, you're a doctor, that's what you do, right?" He began to gasp heavily. "There's gotta be something you can do! Anything! What – what about those paddle things? Try those! Please, you gotta try!"
"I'm sorry, sir," said Cabell. "There isn't anything we can do."
"But you haven't even got the paddles! How do you know they won't work?!" Bob sobbed as he buried his face in Louise's hat. "You've gotta try!" he pleaded. "Try anything!"
"Mr Belcher, if there was anything we could have done, we would have done it," Cabell said honestly. "I'm so sorry."
Bob didn't answer, and only cried harder into Louise's head.
The Belchers remained there with their daughter and sister for a further twenty minutes, the four of them just sat there surrounding her, crying, before Cabell approached them.
"We... have to take Louise to the mortuary," he explained, and Linda held onto her daughter tightly.
"Louise is not going to the mortuary!"
"Mrs Belcher, I know this must be terribly hard for you and I know you don't want to believe it, but she's gone. We tried for half an hour to bring her back, but it was too late." He turned to Bob, who was still crying, but looked only slightly more stable. "Mr Belcher, this may be hard, but we need your permission to perform an autopsy."
"Autopsy? What for?"
"We don't know the cause of death, and an autopsy will help us determine that." Bob sniffed and wiped his eyes. He buried his head in Linda's shoulder, and she wrapped an arm around him.
"Uh-huh. Okay."
"Okay. And when the autopsy is done, Louise will be taken to the chapel of rest. It's – uh – time for us to take Louise now."
"No! You're not going to take my baby!" Linda made her way towards Dr Cabell, but Richards held her back as the doctor moved towards Louise.
"Wait!" Tina cried, rushing to her sister's side and placing a kiss on her head. Gene and Bob did the same, followed by Linda. The doctor then pulled the cloth back over Louise and placed her in the back of the ambulance.
As the vehicle began to drive out of the park, the Belcher family stared after it, looking lost. That was their sister and daughter in there.
Carol approached them quietly.
"I'll drive you home," she offered, her voice gentle, but the family didn't answer. They were still staring after the ambulance. Carol placed her hand on Linda's shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you home," she said again, and gently began to guide them through the park.
As if in a daze, the Belchers began to blindly follow her, with Richards, Davis, and Douglas behind them. All of them were silent as they walked through the park. Bob and Linda were holding hands, with Gene and Tina in front of them, who looked shell-shocked.
When they reached the entrance, the crowd was still there, and the reporters began to surround them, the cameras flashing, the journalists shouting questions at them. Bob and Linda didn't see nor hear them, as they blindly walked ahead, oblivious to Richards and Davis moving the crowd back, trying to give them some privacy. At least the people who had come to watch had the decency to hang back.
Upon reaching the car, Bob climbed into the front, while Linda squashed up into the back with Gene and Tina.
"Thanks for the ride," said Bob robotically as Carol pulled up outside their home.
"No problem. Do you want me to come in with you?" She wasn't really supposed to, but she'd been supporting them for the past five days, and it felt wrong to just leave them now.
"We'll be fine," said Bob in the same robotic voice, as they climbed out of the car. Teddy, Mort, and Big Bob were there.
"Bob? Bob, come here," Big Bob stepped forward, but Bob just carried on walking, as if he didn't even see them. They went into their apartment and locked the door.
The three men looked at one another, the pain evident on their faces. "What are we supposed to do?" asked Big Bob, but Teddy and Mort couldn't answer him. There was nothing they could say.
"Uh, maybe we should give them some space," Mort suggested. Big Bob nodded, and he walked away with the handyman. Teddy looked over at the Belcher residence, and gave a sad sigh before heading home.
Once they were inside the house, Linda immediately went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine, before shutting herself in Louise's room. Bob went into the kitchen, as well, while Gene and Tina sat on the sofa, looking devastated.
After a few moments, Bob came out of the kitchen, holding a large knife.
"Dad, what are you doing?" asked Tina.
"I'm going to kill Logan Bush," said Bob calmly, his voice more monotone than Tina's.
"What? Dad, you can't!" She ran over to him.
"Yes, I can; he killed my daughter. He's the reason she's not here with us, so I'm going to kill him." He began to slowly walk down the stairs, ignoring Tina's attempts to pull him back. When he left, she ran to Louise's room and tried to open the door, but it was locked.
"Mom? Mom! Dad's gonna do something bad; please make him stop!" There was no answer. Her heart racing, Tina pressed her ear up against the door, breathing a small sigh of relief when she heard quiet sobbing. "Mom, you have to come out here! Please don't let him do this!" She still got no answer, and so Tina went back into the living room. Gene was staring at the blank television screen, tears running down his face, so Tina picked up the phone.
"Police?" she said, when the call had been put through. "This is Tina Belcher; my dad's on his way to kill Logan Bush; he has a knife, please stop him." She couldn't bear to lose her dad now.
"All right, we'll send some officers' over there right now, okay? They'll be looking for your dad, and they'll bring him home." Tina didn't recognise the voice; she was too frazzled, so she could only thank them, and hung up, before dialling Big Bob, pacing all the while.
~ X ~
Bob walked down the street on autopilot. He wasn't aware of where he was going, but his feet knew the way. There weren't too many people walking down the street, with it being a weekday afternoon, and so he wasn't disturbed by anyone.
He didn't really have a plan for what he was going to do when he got to Logan's house, but he did know that he wanted to cause the teen as much pain and suffering as possible. And why shouldn't he? Louise was dead; she was dead, and it was all because of him. He quickly wiped his face as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he arrived at the Bush residence. His hand reached out and rang the doorbell. Cynthia answered, her expression unreadable as she studied him.
"Yes?" she said, her tone not as harsh as it was previously.
"Where's your son?" asked Bob, still speaking in a monotone. Cynthia was aware of what had happened, and she was guessing that Bob was there to cause aggravation.
"He's not here," she lied, not noticing that Bob was holding his arm behind his back slightly.
"Yes, he is. I need to talk with him."
"I don't think so," she made to close the door, but Bob stopped her, pushing it further open.
"He killed my daughter! The least you can do is let me talk to him!" he snapped, brandishing the knife. Cynthia gasped, and slammed the door, locking it and hurriedly calling 911. She could hear Bob kicking the door, yelling, and she moved away, lest he tried to stab his way in.
Luckily, at that moment, the police arrived, and quickly raced to the porch. One of them grabbed Bob's arms, and the other wrestled the knife away. Bob did not struggle or resist; instead, he drooped. The two policemen knew who he was. They hadn't been at Wharf Park, but they had been following the news story, like almost everyone else in Seymour's Bay.
The bigger of the two escorted Bob to the car, while the other one knocked on Cynthia's door, calling out that he was a policeman. Shaking, she let him inside, as Logan came down the stairs.
"What was all that about?" he asked, hovering on the fifth step.
"J-just some kids fighting," she said. There was no need for him to know what had just happened. He would find out eventually, but Cynthia didn't want to worry him at that moment.
"What's the policeman here for?"
"Just to talk." Logan only nodded before heading back upstairs, and Cynthia went into the living-room with the officer.
A dazed Bob was again driven home, this time the police officer took him inside, with Big Bob following. Carol was there, sitting with Gene and Tina, doing her best to provide some small form of comfort.
"He was outside their house," said the officer. "I'm gonna go back there and follow up on the report." They all knew that there would not be any charges; Bob wasn't thinking straight, anyone could see that, and it wasn't fair to put the Belchers through any more pain when they had just lost their child.
"Dad?" asked Tina quietly, but Bob did not look at her. Big Bob reached out to hug him, but he might as well have hugged a statue. "Dad, please talk," she pleaded. The burger phone rang; Bob flipped it open and instantly hung up.
"It's pretty late; why don't you go to bed?" Bob suggested, failing to keep his dazed, monotone voice even.
"Okay," she said quietly, even though it was barely 1:30pm, not knowing what else to do. "Goodnight," she said, leaving the room, with Gene following her, as the phone rang again. Gene did not go to his room; instead, they both slowly walked down the hall to Louise's bedroom. "Goodnight, Mom," Tina whispered at the door, but Linda didn't answer. The siblings retreated into Tina's room, still able to hear the quiet sobbing of their parents. Together, they sat silently on her bed. The last few hours of the day did not seem to make sense at all. One minute, they were all so excited and happy; they were getting ready to bring Louise up. The next, a lifeless Louise was lying in front of her. Every time Tina closed her eyes, she could see her parents sobbing over her baby sister's body. It was something she knew she would remember for the rest of her life. "What are we supposed to do?" she asked quietly, willing her hands to stop shaking. Gene did not answer her; he was still staring blankly ahead. She didn't want to go back into the living room; she wanted to go to sleep and forget this ever happened.
Tina couldn't seem to lie down; she seemed frozen in place. She did not register getting up and leaving her room. As she walked down the hallway, she could hear Bob still crying, along with her grandfather. She could hear the voice of Carol talking quietly to them, but she was unable to make out any words.
Tina slipped into her parents' bedroom and returned with their photo album. Sitting back down next to Gene, she let the book fall open on their laps, and she started to slowly flip through it. Every time she came to a picture of Louise, they both stared at it, trying to memorise her face.
Tina kept repeating the same sentence over and over in her head. 'My sister is dead. My sister is dead.' No matter how many times she heard it, it still didn't seem real, and she wondered whether it ever would.
Gene was sat bolt upright, stiff as a board, staring at the photos with a glazed look in his eyes. He did not react when Tina squeezed his hand. "M-maybe we should try and get some sleep," she stuttered, hoping more than anything in the world that she was just having a nightmare. Just as before, she pinched her arm, but nothing happened. She would give anything to be dreaming right now; she would never ask for anything again; the word "horse" would never even pass her lips for the rest of her life, if this could all be just a horrible nightmare.
Tina did not object when Gene climbed under the covers; in fact, she was glad. She really didn't want to be alone, and neither did he.
Eventually they fell asleep, the photo album resting on the pillow between them.
When Tina awoke the next morning, she hardly dared open her eyes. She was afraid to leave her room. She told herself that it meant nothing that Gene was in her bed; he'd just had a nightmare, that's all, and she'd shown him childhood photos to calm him down. That was it.
Gene did not stir as Tina got out of bed, her clothing wrinkled. Taking a deep breath and biting her lip, Tina left her room. The apartment was so quiet. But that didn't mean anything, right? There were lots of reasons for the apartment to be absolutely silent. Tina couldn't think of any off the top of her head, but she knew that the reasons existed.
'Please let it be a dream. Please let it be a dream,' she thought, as she slowly walked down the hall, her every footstep seemingly filling the house.
She entered the kitchen to find Bob sat at the table, a broken man, Louise's special Kuchi Kopi shaped mug clutched in his hand. Instantly, she knew that it had all happened; the whole, horrible thing had really happened, and it was real, and she felt sick.
There was no sign of her mother and Tina assumed that she was still in Louise's room. She took another deep breath, taking another step into the kitchen.
"Tina. I didn't see you there," Bob sniffled and wiped his nose. "What do you want for breakfast?" he asked, not looking as though he were up to the task.
"I'm not hungry," she told him. Bob nodded and left the room. Tina could not bring herself to look at the mug.
Bob ambled down the hall, almost drunkenly, and knocked on Louise's door.
"Linda?" he called. "Please come out, honey. Lin?" But he got no answer. He could hear movement, which made him feel a little bit better. Sighing, Bob made his way back toward the kitchen and heard knocking at the door, which he ignored. He could probably guess who it was; his father, who had left briefly that morning. It could also be Teddy, Mort, Gayle, Al and Gloria. He didn't want to see any of them. Almost selfishly, he hoped his father had broken the news, because he couldn't bear to say those words.
More knocking at the door, but this time it opened, and he heard several pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs. Then, he was surrounded, with many arms hugging him.
"It can't be true!" Gayle was sobbing. "It just can't be!" The five of them – Bob, Big Bob, Gayle, Al, and Gloria – slowly moved forward until they were in the living room. There, they collapsed in a heap upon the sofa.
"I just can't believe it; this can't be happening," Gloria shook her head, holding Al's hand tightly.
"Where's Linda?" asked Big Bob.
"She's locked herself in Louise's room," said Tina, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. Gayle rose and left the room.
"Do – do they know why?" Gloria asked, not sure if she wanted to know.
"No; they're gonna do an... autopsy," said Bob, trying to hold back his tears but failing. Big Bob leaned over, hugging his son tightly. Bob just sobbed in his arms, surprised that he even had any tears left.
Meanwhile, Gayle was outside Louise's bedroom, talking to Linda, trying to coax her out.
"Linda? I can't even begin to imagine how you're feeling, but we're all here for you," she said through the door. "Everyone's here; come on down."
"There's nothing for you to be here for," came Linda's voice. "Louise isn't dead, so you can all go home."
"Linda, please come down. You need to talk to us," Gayle pleaded. "You need to let your emotions out."
"There are no emotions to be let out!" Linda snapped. "Louise is not dead, so just go!"
Gayle made her way back down the hall, not having any other option.
Linda sat with her back against the bedroom door. In one of her hands was Bakeneko. In the other was the key to the door. Why was everyone telling her that Louise was dead? She couldn't be; not her baby. She knew that the doctor had made a mistake, and she was confident that Louise would be coming home any moment now. Dr Cabell had said that there was nothing he could do, but Linda didn't believe him. They must have revived Louise, of that she was certain.
All that silly talk about giving Louise an autopsy; autopsies weren't for little girls, they were for dead people. Linda supposed that Dr Cabell would see sense sooner or later, as would the rest of her family.
"She won't come out," Gayle said, upon returning to the living room. "She won't even talk."
"It wouldn't surprise me if she's in denial," said Al. "Who could blame her?"
"Denial is the first stage of grief," Big Bob said. "If she is, then there isn't a lot we can do."
"I want to see Louise," said Tina quietly, and they all turned to look at her.
"I don't think we can just yet," Bob told her. "I don't know when they're doing the – the -" he couldn't bring himself to say "autopsy." Not again; it was such a horrible word.
"I'll phone them," Big Bob volunteered, and Bob just nodded. Big Bob pulled out his phone and dialled the mortuary. Carol had told them that that was where Louise was.
"Hello, It's Your Funeral funeral home."
"Hello? I'd like to speak to – to whoever.. is looking after my granddaughter, L-Louise Belcher," his voice cracked a little.
"Hello, Mr Belcher, I'm the one taking care of her," came a familiar voice. He knew that voice, he just couldn't place it.
"We'd... we'd like to see Louise."
"I'm afraid it can't be done today, Mr Belcher; tomorrow, Louise will be taken to the chapel of rest, which is located here in the mortuary, and she'll remain there until the funeral, and you'll be able to visit her then. Uh, could you please pass the phone to Mr Belcher.. Junior?"
Big Bob handed the phone over to his son, reality setting in even more. "Mr Belcher?"
"Yes?" Bob recognised the voice, too, but he was in no state of mind to think clearly.
Uh, you'll need to bring some of Louise's clothing over tonight. So we can get her ready."
"O-okay."
"A bereavement counsellor is on her way to your home; she'll be helping you and your family deal with the grief."
"Okay," Bob repeated, hanging up. "He wants me to – to bring some of Louise's clothes down tonight," he revealed.
"He said Louise will be in the chapel of rest until the funeral," said Big Bob.
"There's so much to do," Tina realised.
"I can't believe this is happening," muttered Al. The family fell silent for a moment, none of them knowing what to say.
"Where is the.. chapel of rest?" asked Bob.
"Oh, uh, a place called "It's Your Funeral."
Bob looked up at him, more life in his eyes than there had been all day.
"That's next door!" he gasped, tearing up. "She's there? She's next door right now? She's alone!" Before he knew it, he was bounding down the stairs, and pounding on Mort's front door. "Mort! Mort, open up! Open up now!" he insisted, continuing to knock relentlessly until Mort had appeared, looking worn out, placing his gloves in his apron. "Louise is in there; let me see her," he demanded.
"I'm sorry, Bob, I can't." Mort did look truly sorry.
"Why not? That's my daughter; I need to see her!"
"We have to finish getting her ready; you can come tomorrow."
"I want to see her now," Bob tried to barge in, but Mort blocked the way. "Why are you doing this? I just want to see her!"
"Bob, I'd love to let you see her," said Mort honestly, "but I can't. We're still.. well, we're – we're just finishing up with her. I don't want you to see her until she's.. more comfortable," he finished. He was actually glad for the break. Performing Louise's autopsy and embalming her had taken its toll on him, and he was glad for Samantha's help.
"You have to let me in!" Bob crumpled against Mort, sobbing. Mort, his knees buckling under the grief-filled weight of the younger man, could only pat his shoulder.
Suddenly, a pair of hands had removed the distraught father.
"Come on, now; come on," said Bob's father, holding his son, looking close to tears himself. "Let's go back inside." Bob allowed himself to be led back upstairs, and Mort stood there, watching.
He wiped a tear from his cheek, before closing the door, and heading back to the basement.
Finally, a few hours later, Linda and Gene ventured into the living room, Linda still clutching Bakeneko in a vice grip, and Gene staring blankly ahead. They were immediately enveloped into a group hug, everyone giving words of comfort.
"Oh, Linda, I'm so sorry!" said Gayle sincerely.
"I can't believe it happened."
"It's just terrible."
"If there's anything, anything we can do..."
"I hoped you'd never have to experience this," Gloria told her.
"Thank you for the kind words," said Linda flatly, breaking away from the hug. She headed into the kitchen, and returned with another bottle of wine, drinking it straight from the bottle.
"I guess I should... go and pick some clothes out," said Bob, staring desperately at the bottle. He wanted so badly to grab it and down the whole thing, but some fuzzy part of his brain was telling him not to. He couldn't figure out why.
"I'll go with you." Tina took her dad's hand and they made their down the hall together.
When they entered Louise's room, Tina stopped at the doorway, realising that Louise would never set foot in there again. Judging by Bob's hesitation, he was realising the same thing.
They walked over to the chest of drawers and began rifling through it. "How about this?" said Tina, holding up Louise's black catering dress.
"Maybe," said Bob, gently brushing his fingers over the material, and Tina placed it on the bed.
"Well, there's this one," she held up another dress, a red one. Bob sat on the floor just staring at the dresser.
"No, not that one," he said eventually. Together, they went through every article of clothing they could find, trying to decide on what to use, but they were having trouble.
"Maybe, it should be the black dress," said Tina, sitting down next to her dad, imagining that they were preparing to cater for Boyz 4 Now. Louise had to look her best for Boo Boo. She lifted Louise's duvet, searching for shoes.
"She doesn't like that dress." Bob reached forward and picked up one of Louise's favourite green dresses. "How about this?" he asked.
"I – I think she should be dressed nicely," Tina whispered, and Bob nodded, another dress catching his eye. It was white, with short, puffed sleeves, and a white lace overlay. A pink satin sash was tied around the waist. It was angelic. An angelic dress for his angel.
He vaguely remembered Linda making it; there was some sort of mall photo shoot that she'd won a voucher for, and she'd wanted them all to look nice. Tina had the same dress, and Gene had a little white tuxedo with a pink cummerbund. At the time, Bob had thought the outfits were a bit too 90's happy family photoshoot, but now he would give anything to squeeze into his own tux, and be forced to smile for the camera against a garish backdrop.
"This one," he said.
"Okay. That's a nice one," said Tina quietly. She pulled some white Mary Jane shoes out from under Louise's bed, handing them to Bob, along with a pair of white socks.
Standing, he hugged the clothing close before placing it on the bedside table in his room, before leaving with Tina.
When they came to the kitchen, they found Big Bob cooking for them, but none of them were hungry. However, they still respectfully sat at the table, cramped though it was, but they couldn't bring themselves to speak.
The sad, strained silence that followed this was mercifully interrupted by the doorbell ringing and Big Bob went to answer it. It was a middle-aged woman with soft brown hair and wearing a grey suit.
"Mr Belcher?" she asked.
"Senior," he confirmed. "My son's upstairs," and the woman nodded and followed him up and into the living room.
"Hello, I'm Nadia Smith; I'm your bereavement counsellor," she held out her hand to Bob, who shook it. "Dr Cabell sent me." Bob nodded but said nothing. "Where is your wife?" she enquired and Bob pointed her towards the chair. That fuzzy voice in his brain was sure that some part of this was a good idea; if Linda was in denial, this could help her. Denial sounded great to him; every time Bob thought of his daughter, the pain cut through him like a knife, but he knew that denial wasn't going to help Linda in the long run.
"Hello, Mrs Belcher," Nadia approached Linda. "I'm Nadia Smith, your bereavement counsellor; Dr Cabell sent me."
"Thank you for your concern, but there's really no need," said Linda robotically. "There's been a mistake, you see; my daughter isn't dead, so you can go back where you came from."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mrs Belcher. You're experiencing full-blown denial due to the death of your daughter, and you can't keep your emotions locked up like this."
"I'm not experiencing denial because there's nothing for me to deny! My baby is not dead! Now, please leave!"
"I'm sorry, Mrs Belcher; my job is to help people deal with the loss of their loved ones."
"Like I said, my daughter is not dead, so you're just wasting your time here."
Nadia sighed. Her job was never easy, but she genuinely wanted to help.
"Mrs Belcher, why don't we talk about your daughter? What was her name? Tell me about her."
While Linda was arguing with Nadia, Bob slipped outside and walked next door, with Louise's clothing in his hands. When he arrived at the funeral home, he carried the clothes inside, finding Mort waiting for him, and they went into his office.
"I've brought the clothes," he said quietly. Mort nodded solemnly and reached out to take them, but Bob held them close to him.
"Bob," said Mort gently, and Bob reluctantly handed the clothing over. "Thank you."
"Where is she?"
Mort didn't have to ask who Bob was talking about.
"She's still here. We'll have the results of the autopsy tomorrow. Louise will be moved upstairs to the chapel of rest tomorrow, and she'll remain there until the funeral." Bob only nodded. "If you'd like to come back here tomorrow morning, I'll give you the results."
"Okay."
"How're the family?"
"How do you think?"
"I can't even begin to imagine. I hope you'll be okay," he said sincerely, before turning around and leaving.
Back outside, Bob slumped to the ground and sobbed. He buried his head in his hands and cried until he could cry no more, and then slowly started to walk home.
He arrived back home to find that the counsellor had left and everybody was in the sitting room.
"Where'd that lady go?"
"I told her to leave," said Linda, still holding Bakeneko in a vice grip. "But she said she'd come back tomorrow; I said no, but she wouldn't hear it."
"Perhaps it's for the best, Linda," Gayle encouraged. "She's right; you need to show your emotions."
"No, I don't," said Linda flatly. "I can't believe you're all just accepting the doctor's word!"
"Well, he's got no reason to lie to us, and... we did see Louise," said Bob. When Linda didn't answer him, he continued. "Mort said that we can go see Louise tomorrow," he told the family. "And – and he also said that we'll get the au... autopsy results tomorrow, as well."
"Do you think maybe Gene and Tina should stay home?" Al suggested. "It might be upsetting."
"No, I have to see her," Tina insisted. She needed to memorise her sister; the fact that she was never going to see her again was almost too much for her to bear.
Gene, sat stiffly on the sofa, gave no indication that he had even heard what had been said. He was staring at the wall, his eyes glazed as though he was not really seeing it.
"Okay," Bob agreed, not about to let his kids not say goodbye to their sister. "Gene? You okay?" He noticed that the boy hadn't moved. He felt bad that he hadn't even noticed his son until Tina had placed her hand on his arm. Gene still didn't react.
"He's been like that since..." Tina didn't finish her sentence.
"I think he'll be okay; you kids have had a massive shock. I think he's just processing everything," said Big Bob.
"Well, why don't we all try to get some sleep?" suggested Gloria. Mumbling in agreement, the rest of the family rose and disbanded, pulling out spare pillows and blankets, and finding spaces to sleep. Gloria and Al slept in Gene's room, while Gayle curled up on the sofa, and Big Bob slept on the floor.
Gene and Tina went back to Tina's room, the two of them silent, neither of them knowing what to say. Gene didn't even bother taking his shoes off before burrowing under the blankets.
Linda went to go back into Louise's room, but Bob grabbed her hand; he wanted her here with him.
"Don't leave me alone," he pleaded. Linda hiccupped, still clutching both the empty bottle, and Bakeneko, and merely followed Bob into the bedroom.
~ X ~
Yep. Told you it was going to be sad.
Regarding the summary, if you read "A Cry in the Park," in chapter 4, Louise does say "daddy," but doesn't speak after that.
As it's me, this is going to be another long story, so I will understand if some of you choose to back out now, given the subject matter. No spoilers, but it won't be all doom and gloom; I've done my best to add some balance with some light-hearted moments.
I'd love to know your thoughts.