Aside from some minor aging and deterioration, her childhood home hadn't changed too much from how Mary remembered it, with the exception of her father's old office.

Since Graham had fallen ill, Charlotte had spent the past few years selling and given away the spoils of her employer's past exploits, both to avoid further investigation after the Prairie Theatre's closure, and to finance the increased care that the old gorilla had been receiving. Having once been filled with various paintings, statues and other art pieces, the room was now completely empty and barren, and hadn't been cleaned or dusted in months, even in comparison to the rest of the house.

"Mary..." Charlotte's voice snapped her out of her reminiscing as the daschund waited at the bottom of the stairs. "He's um... he's ready to see you now..."

While she had bolted up and down these stairs more times than she could count during her youth, walking up them now seemed a far more daunting task than Mary remembered. Having enjoyed some much-needed freedom for the last few years, she now almost felt like a long escaped prisoner being returned to her captivity. She had been lagging far behind Charlotte while the daschund waited for at the top of the stairs, but as the slightly ajar door to her father's bedroom came closer, she knew she could only delay this confrontation for so long.

The room was cast in a rather dull semi-darkness with the blinds on the large window being half-closed, and Mary had to squint hard to finally spot her father's silhouette in the far corner. She had been feeling the conflicted the moment Charlotte had told her to come the night before, but she hadn't been at all prepared for the sight she was about to see.

Graham Griswold, the Calatonia Kingpin, one of the most feared individuals in the entire country, and certainly the one Mary herself had always feared the most, was propped up in his bed, hooked up to a slowly dripping IV line. His breathing was hoarse and slow, loudly filtered through the small tubes that protruded from his nostrils, and with his thinning fur and emaciated frame, he looked less than half the size and weight he was when Mary had seen him last.

"Ugh.. who's that, eh...?" His voice was more tired and strained than Mary was used to hearing, though its usual mean-spirited bitterness slipped back in when she sat on the chair beside the bed, and he got a better look at his visitor. "Oh... it's just you..."

"Yeah, Dad, it's me..." Mary scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I suppose you're not used to having folks actually coming when you ask to see them anymore."

"Don't you play smart with me!" Graham hissed through gritted teeth, trying his best to sit up in the bed despite his weakened state. "I might not be feeling great, but that don't mean I've not been keepin' up with things. All the nonsense you've been pulling."

"Nonsense...?" Mary stifled a laugh. "Dad, what are you on about...?"

"That stupid little trick you pulled at Christmas. What, ya didn't think they'd be talkin' about it...?! You getting my grandson dressed up like Eelton John, makin' him your little circus act!"

"Johnny wanted to perform, Dad..." Mary pulled a small, defensive scowl. "Cause believe it or not, I'm not the only one in our family who's capable of having real ambitions."

"And how'd those ambitions work for you, eh...?" Graham's tone of voice was particularly vicious as he said this, and he couldn't help pulling a smug smirk at the hurt look on his daughter's face. "Yeah, thought so... can't believe you'd put your boy through that, and after all I did to try and protect ya from going -!"

"Protecting...?! What, by belting me...?!" Mary felt a small burst of courage as she sat straighter. "Me and Marcus aren't looking for Parents Of The Year points, Dad, but I'll never put Johnny through what you put me through!"

"Well then maybe ya should!" Graham barked, wincing a bit from the strain this effort took, so he went back to his more subdued bitterness as he rested back on the bed. "Try toughening him up a bit! Make him into a real man, not this... this prim little sissy boy you're groomin' him into!"

"My son is allowed to be whatever he wants to be!" Mary spat back, slamming her fist down hard on the bedside table. "I owe him that much! And it's better than anything you ever gave me!"

"Right! Listen to me, ya ungrateful little - ugh!"

Graham clutched a hand over his chest, letting out a loud, violent cough that sent a small spray of spit and blood over his bedsheets. Having stood by the doorway to listen to most of their conversation, Charlotte finally came over and clambered up on the bed, handing over a small glass of water for the old gorilla to drink from.

"Look, to be honest, Dad, I... I really don't know why you asked me to come here today..." Mary finally broke the silence, leaning forward a bit. "Part of me was thinking maybe you were wanting to apologise, make peace or something like that, but instead, it... it's just more anger, more insults... all the usual faff."

For just a brief moment, Mary saw what seemed to be a look of conflict, perhaps even regret, form on Graham's face, but it didn't take long for his familiar scowl to return as he lounged back again. "I think I've spoiled ya enough... you'll be gettin' none of that from me, Mary..."

"Yeah, well... I suppose that's on me for getting my hopes up, then..." Mary leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers on the armrest while some more resentful thoughts and feelings began bubbling back to the surface. "Y'know, you... you might not like where Johnny's going, Dad, but that little lad's already ten times the man you've ever been."

"You're joking, aren't ya...?" Graham let out an ominously hollow chuckle. "Please… he's never gonna be nothin' but a talentless, prissy little crybaby, just like his mother!"

Mary shut her eyes and let out a small, sharp exhale, only just resisting the urge to punch her defenceless, bedridden father right in the face. Eventually, she opened them again, taking on a calmer, but still sad, tone as she looked him right in the eye.

"Why are you like this…?" She finally asked, the slightly wide-eyed expression on Graham's face indicating he hadn't expected to hear this question. "Seriously, what... what did I do to ever deserve any of this from you... eh...?"

Graham scoffed, and Mary couldn't tell whether his response was answering her question or deflecting it. "You were weak... pathetic... an embarrassment. Y'always have been."

"Hmm... right..." Mary shook her head, finally accepting that she was never going to get through, so she stood up and straightened down her shirt. "Well, maybe if you hadn't so worried about that, Dad, you wouldn't be sitting here all alone like this..."

"Y'think I care about being alone...?" Graham spat, though his arrogance came back in full force as he lounged back with a smirk. "I might have not have made many friends in my life, Mary, but I made an impact! Folks are gonna remember me! Yeah... the Calatonia Kingpin! The Infamous Graham Griswold, eh...?"

Mary glanced over to Charlotte for a moment, then let out a small sigh. "But is it worth being infamous for all the wrong reasons, though...?"

"Of course!" Graham's hearty laughter was punctuated by his strained coughing. "What, you'd rather I be like you?! Some worthless little waste of space who -!"

"I am not a waste of space!" Mary hissed, which prompted a mean-spirited little smirk to form on her father's face as the power began to shift again.

"Oh come on, don't lie to yourself, love! No one's gonna remember you!" He said. "Bloody hell, ya could die tomorrow, and even Marcus and Johnny'd forget ya existed by the end of the week!"

"No... no, they wouldn't..." Mary bit her bottom lip as her eyes began to mist up, though her cheeks turned a burning red as she sent a hateful glare towards her father. "You... y-you're wrong!"

"Oh, am I really, Mary...?" Graham barked, noticing a look of hatred form on his daughter's face, just as he'd intended. "Then why don't ya give it a go, eh...?!"

"Mary, no!" Charlotte quickly shot up, only just managing to stop the enraged younger gorilla from lunging at her father. She luckily didn't have to struggle too much, since Mary didn't put in much resistance and managed to calm herself down, and Charlotte let out a small sigh of relief. "Please, Mary. it... it's not worth it..."

Mary thought to herself for another moment or two, glancing back and forth between Charlotte and Graham the whole time, before she finally lowered her head and turned away.

"Hmm..." Graham's dismissive scoff seemed to suggest disappointment as his daughter headed out the door and back towards the stairs, though he couldn't help slipping in a final jab while she was still in earshot. "I always knew ya were were a coward..."

"Friends, family, the good folks of Calatonia. We meet here today to pay our respects to a truly beloved member of our community, Mr. Graham Griswold."

Marcus had stood by Mary's side at the back of the Calatonia Cemetery for most of the service, and his wife hadn't said a word since they arrived. She only responded in silent nods and small "hmms" to acknowledge whatever he was saying to her, but Marcus knew all too well what was making her uncomfortable.

The fifteen rows of benches and seats were filled to the brim with all manner of animals, dressed in black to fit the solemn occasion, and they switched back-and-forth between crying and laughing while various speakers took turns on the podium recalling stories about the deceased. Yet Mary had managed to zone herself out of all of this and kept her eyes fixated on the large, polished mahogany coffin that was being lowered into the ground.

Most of the funeral-goers had already approached the couple on the way in, offering their condolences to the deceased's daughter and telling her how sorry they were for her loss. Mary had tried her best to smile politely and nod, but Marcus could tell that she was holding back an entire wave of mixed emotions. There seemed to be a lot of bitterness, more so than he was used to seeing in her, but there was also plenty of anger on her face too. But above all else, it seemed to just be sadness.

The amplified sound of someone clearing their throat turned Marcus' attention back to the podium, where a familiar little daschund was stood a few inches away from the microphone beside the coffin.

"And now, um..." Charlotte hesitated as she glanced across to the back of the room, finally making eye contact with her employer's daughter, who gave a small nod to prompt her to continue. "Right... and now, to say a few words about her father, I'd like to welcome Mary Griswold to come up."

There was a small round of applause when Mary took a deep breath, straightening the black hat she was wearing so the black veil covered her face more evenly. Marcus hesitated to let go of her hand, but after she gave him a small smile, he loosened his grip and allowed his wife to make her way through the middle of the crowd and took the stand.

"I um..." Mary drummed her fingers on the podium, though the microphone picking up this sound and amplifying it made the near-complete silence even more awkward. "I suppose I'll start by saying that Graham Griswold was known for many different things to many different folks. Calatonia Kingpin, Boss, the Big Man, um... well, Mr. Griswold was probably the obvious one, but me, I... I knew him as Dad."

This prompted a sweet-natured, but rather patronising, wave of "awes..." to sound off among the crowd listening. Mary hoped the veil on her hat would conceal her rolling her eyes at this, but she was more focused on trying to think of other nice things to say about her recently-departed father.

"Well, as we all know, Dad had a lot of interests. The Prairie, Les Calmers, the Fat Cat... yeah... seems he had his hands in just about everywhere and everyone, really. N-not in that way, obviously, just um..." Mary gave a small chuckle, though the resounding laugh that her remark had prompted from the crowd helped to cover up her nervousness until she regained her composure. "But yeah, he um... I can safely say he's impacted just about all of us in some way, but... but I feel as though I was the one who got the brunt of it. Hmm... in more ways that one."

When glancing around at the other funeral-goers present, Marcus could tell that most of them had interpreted Mary's words as heartwarming. It was a fair enough assumption for those that were not in the know, but he could tell that Mary wasn't enjoying herself one bit. While her face was mostly concealed by the veil, he'd known his wife long enough to know when her body language was saying what her words were not.

Right now, there was nothing she wanted to do more than shut up their laughter and cheer with the hard, honest truth. To drop the bombshell, to tell them all what the great Graham Griswold was really like. But as much as she wanted to, Mary had forced herself to accept that this wasn't the time for that, so here she was instead, having to praise and pay tribute to a gorilla that had only ever caused her misery.

"But now, this is it... y'know, he... he's just gone... end of story... nothing more. And I just... I..." Mary's voice became strained as she started to get choked up, and she put a hand to her face as she pulled away from the microphone. "I'm sorry, I just... I can't do this!"

There were a few sympathetic murmurs as Mary stepped down from the podium and quickly took off towards the other side of the cemetery, her veiled hat falling from her head due to the speed she was running at. Though judging by some of the conversations that Marcus overheard when he went to follow his wife, the funeral-goers weren't sympathetic for the reasons they should have been. "Oh, the poor dear. Must have really loved her old man..."

A hundred thoughts raced through Mary's head as she made her way towards the gate at the end of the cemetery, and she stumbled down to prop herself up on one of the smaller oak trees. Sweat soaked her hands and forehead as a burning, almost feverish feeling took hold of her, and the gorilla tried her best to take slow, deep breaths before anyone saw what was happening to her.

"Come on, get it together..." She repeated to herself over and over as various conversations with her father came barrelling back to the surface. "Just get it together, Mary, come on!"

"Mary...?"

She almost shrieked when she felt a hand grip onto her shoulder from behind and jolted around, only to let out a small sigh when she saw the concerned look on her husband's face. Though Marcus' presence could only be so comforting for her as she slumped down at the foot of the tree and buried her sobbing face in her hands.

"It's alright, love..." Marcus said gently, kneeling down beside his wife and putting his arm around her shoulder. "You've done your bit, Mary."

"I just... I'm just so sick of it all..." Mary's breathing finally slowed down a bit as she looked back up at her husband, small tears still coming out of her swollen red eyes. "He was a monster, Marcus... he was an absolute monster, and no one even knows it!"

"I do, Mary.." Marcus said, holding her even tighter as he planted a small kiss on her forehead. "But he's gone now. I mean, yeah, you're still hurting over it, you might always be, but... but it'll get better. It's just you, me and Johnny now, eh...?"

Mary hesitated, then nodded silently, finally feeling a small sense of relief as she rested her head on her husband's shoulder. They could still see the service continuing about two hundred yards away, and no one there had noticed the pair of them sitting here. And for just this one moment of peace, sitting in Marcus' embrace, Mary couldn't have asked for anything better.

"Mum...?"

Johnny's voice snapped Mary back to reality as she quickly straightened up on the couch and wiped her tear-stained face. The small candle on the table was the only light source in the room, and by briefly glancing up at the clock on the mantel piece she could see that it was nearly three in the morning. So she tried to regain a sterner, but still casual, tone as she turned to face the sleepy, disorientated nine-year-old waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, for God's sake, Johnny, it's a school night!" She said. "You should be asleep!"

"Well yeah, but... but shouldn't you be too...?"

"Ah... I suppose you've got me there, darling..." Mary hesitated for a moment, then pulled a warm smile and beckoned her little one to come over, gently picking him up and placing him on her knee while they looked up at the night sky through the window. "Yeah... I were just having a bad dream. Y'know how it is..."

"Was it about Granddad again...?"

Mary's eyes widened a little when Johnny said this, but she managed to keep her smile as she looked down at her son. "Um... y-yeah, it was. I've um... I think you can tell I've been a bit upset since your Granddad died, Johnny. Thing is, though, I'm... I'm not upset for the same reasons everyone else is, so... that's pretty upsetting too, isn't it...?"

"Oh... well, at least he's in heaven now." Johnny nodded innocently, tilting his head a bit. "Isn't he...?"

"Hmm... definitely..." Mary smiled sadly, trying not to gag as she forced herself to say this. "Yeah, I'm sure he's up there right now... hanging over us..."

Eventually, Johnny grew tired again and Mary carried her little one back to bed. After tucking him in and giving him his usual goodnight kiss on the forehead, she remained knelt beside the bed for a few minutes, starting a gentle little duet to help lull her son back to sleep.

Should I try to hide
The way I feel inside

My heart for you?

Would you say that you
Would try to love me too?

Even without her piano or any other instruments, the acoustics of the small bedroom allowed Mary's voice to echo beautifully as Johnny finally closed his eyes and drifted off. But although this song had always been one of their favourites, Mary couldn't help feeling conflicted while she sang now, as the lyrics that had always brought her comfort now seemed hollow and empty after all that had transpired over the last few days.

In your mind
Could you ever be really close to me?

I can tell the way you smile

If I feel that I could be certain, then
I would say the things I want to say tonight

With even more tears in her eyes, Mary carefully caressed the side of her sleeping son's face as she stood up. After making sure he was as snug as a bug, she quietly left his room and headed back downstairs, returning to her spot on the couch as she stared up blankly at the night sky in the window.

Mary wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck as she stepped out into the crisp autumn air. The leaves had begun to turn gold and red, and the breeze carried a faint scent of woodsmoke. The sun has set about an hour beforehand, leaving a warm, red to black gradient in the evening sky above the city by the time she'd reached her destination.

"Ah... there you are, old friend..."

It felt as though months if not years had passed since the last time she'd crossed over this bridge over the canal, but at long last, she was finally here again. The very centre of the curve, at the very edge of the railing, was her favourite spot in the entire city, and she couldn't help feeling a familiar flutter in her stomach as some of her happiest memories here came back to her.

But as much as she liked thinking of her past times here, it only served as a minor comfort for what she was going through now.

In the months since Graham's death, Mary had felt that she was being ripped apart from the inside by equally strong emotions of grief, anger, guilt. With her well-practiced methods of covering them up, her internal torment had gone mostly unnoticed, though she had made it a habit of dismissing her son, husband and others when they did question her feelings on the matter.

Indeed, it seemed that her happy life at home had been permanently disrupted by Graham even after his recent departure. But luckily, having never come across this bridge with her father, most of her thoughts related to him were pushed to the back for just a few moments of much needed peace.

Mary climbed up onto the railing, feeling the cold metal and wind slide under fur and bite into her skin. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the pain start to slip away. As she sat there, her legs dangling over the edge, she took in the view of the city above while the lights in the building on either side of the canal painted the skyline in a rainbow of bright colours.

She closed her eyes and let the cool breeze wash over her face, and for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to just be. To let go of the fear and the pain, if only for a little while.

"You were weak... pathetic... an embarrassment. Y'always have been."

Mary tensed her closed eyes tighter as her last conversation with Graham - and the many other rows that she'd had with her father over the years - came flooding back to her again. As painful as it was for these harsher memories of her past to overwrite the happier ones she'd made on this bridge, it served as an all too chilling reminder of the decision that had prompted her to come here today.

Almost like a sailor caught in the hypnotic trance of a siren, Mary remained completely straight-faced while she removed her scarf and jacket, gently folding them up and placing them on the railing beside her. After folding up her glasses and placing them at the top of the pile, the last valuable item that Mary removed was her small, golden wedding ring, which she planted a small, tearful kiss onto before placing it there as well.

"I always knew ya were were a coward..."

Graham's words from that day continued to swirl around in Mary's head as she dangled closer to the ledge, while the tight grip she held onto the rail with slowly began to loosen. The lights of the buildings still shone brightly in the skyline above, yet aside from some minor shimmering they hadn't done much to illuminate the canal itself, making the barely-lit depths below seem like even more of a dark, inescapable abyss.

"Johnny, Marcus..." Mary whispered tearfully under her breath as she closed her eyes tight, loosening her grip just a little more so that she was mere inches away from letting go. "Forgive me, my darlings..."