Mark didn't think he would be able to sleep much that night, if he could even sleep at all, but after all the weeks of late night heavy lifting and manual labor he put into setting up the fake Jigsaw trap over the last month, his body finally urged him to take a rest so that he could renew his strength and regain his energy to use it for another day. He would need it soon, because not only was someone likely to inform the police about a recent murder in the city within the next day or so, but a young delinquent was about to make a bold, if not ill-willed move by causing great emotional damage to a citizen cop.
When the detective woke up the next morning, it was to the dim sunlight coming in through the living room window. Mark kept his eyes tightly shut as he raised a hand to his face in order to shield it from the intruding brightness that brought him out of his sleep. Once his vision adjusted to the point where his eyeballs could withstand the light, Mark blinked a few times and looked down at himself to find that he had fallen asleep on the couch. Not only that, but a small throw blanket was covering his legs, though he didn't remember throwing it over himself last night before he blacked out and fell asleep.
Shutting his eyes again, Mark let out a remorseful groan and raised both his hands this time to cover his eyes as his brain recalled the events of last night that all seemed like a horrible nightmare. Not only did he kill a man last night, who happened to be his sister's killer, but he also traumatized an innocent little girl, his own niece, with poisonous resentment and hurtful words that he should never have said.
Throwing the blanket off of him, Mark sat up and placed his feet on the floor, rubbing his face with both hands in the hope that it might help take away the sickening feeling that began to consume him before placing them over his mouth in a prayer-like fashion. His eyesight found another reason for why the nausea refused to go away, as he saw a half empty bottle of hard liquor sitting on the coffee table in front of him. The nasty taste in the detective's mouth indicated to him that he had taken a few swallows of the remaining whiskey still left in the bottle, but Mark didn't remember drinking himself to sleep last night. Even if he tried to deny it out loud, the headache that would soon follow said so otherwise.
Suddenly, Mark remembered every single word he yelled at Sally, telling her that she was a brat and that if it weren't for her that his sister would still be alive. 'You're a mistake, you shouldn't even be here!' Those words echoed in the back of his mind, and remembering those words alone was enough to make the detective want to tear his shirt off and reach deep into his chest just so he could pull his heart out.
Standing up at last, Mark went right to Sally's bedroom, calling her name out in a panic as he opened the door. Much to his horror, he found that his niece wasn't in bed and walked into the room, getting down on his hands and knees as he looked under the bed to see if she was hiding from him again, only to find that she wasn't there. Next, he rose up and went to check the closet by opening the door, but he didn't find her there, either.
Just then, Mark heard the door to the bedroom close behind him and turned around fast, seeing that his niece was there. She had been hiding behind the door this whole time, hoping to scare him on purpose.
Right away, Mark went over to the little girl, kneeling down to the same level as his niece as he placed his hands on her shoulders, thankful that she didn't flinch or try to jerk herself away from his gentle grasp.
"Sally, I need to talk to you", said Mark, sounding urgent. "I'm sorry about what I said to you last night. I've given this a lot of thought and-"
Suddenly, Sally cut off his sentence by holding up a folded piece of paper, showing it to him like it was important, even though the dead-eyed look on her face didn't quite match up with her strange behavior.
"What's this?" Mark asked her, taking the folded piece of paper so he could see what it was, finding out that it was a simple, three-worded message written in red crayon that said: Late for school.
Looking at the child again, the detective folded the note back up and stuck it into his pocket before he said to Sally , "Okay. Get dressed and I'll take you to school. We'll talk later, all right?"
Sighing deeply through her nose, Sally chose not to respond to his statement and walked around him to go over to her closet and pick out some clothes to wear. Once she selected an outfit, the child looked over at her uncle and pointed towards the door, silently telling him to get out so she could dress herself.
Getting the idea that she wanted to be left alone, Mark rose up and obeyed his niece's command, never once taking his eyes off of her as he headed over to the door. He really hoped that she would be in the mood to talk to him and give him a chance to explain himself, but apparently, she wasn't ready.
Once he changed out of his clothes and put on a different suit, Mark went back to the living room and waited by the front door for Sally so they could walk out of the apartment together. They took the elevator down to the parking garage, and once they were in the car, the detective drove his silent niece to school so she could attend the last day before the annual three month vacation that most children looked forward to every year, only Sally wasn't looking forward to not attending school anymore. She would rather stay there forever and be with her friends than her mean, foul-tempered, verbally abusive uncle who drank way too much and blamed her for everything. The child never once uttered a single word during the entire drive, choosing instead to look out the window and not talk to her uncle. Mark knew she was still mad at him and accepted her silence as a fair punishment.
Once he got to the elementary school, Mark parked in front of the building and turned off the engine before leaning back into his seat, taking a deep breath before turning his gaze to the rearview mirror.
"Listen, Sal. About last night-"
Quickly, Sally unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her backpack before she opened the backdoor and got out, running towards the building before Mark could finish his sentence. The detective got out of his car and was about to call out to his niece, but she was already in the building. He looked devastated.
Once he was at the police station, Mark entered his office, closing the door behind him before he went over to the shelf behind his desk and looked at a picture of Angelina. Sadly enough, he didn't have one of her daughter anywhere in his office. He thought about getting one, but not right now. Mark turned around and went to sit down in his chair, picking up a case file in his hand, but not even bothering to read it. He looked at it twice already the day before. He didn't feel much like talking to any of his colleagues or asking them about the progress on any of the recent Jigsaw cases. Instead, he chose to seclude himself behind four walls, still thinking about all the things he said to Sally, a little girl who never did him any harm, a child who showed him nothing but unconditional love. Mark didn't feel like he deserved any of the love his niece showed to him, especially after what he said. What kind of person yells at a child and tells them they should never have been born? Not a good one, that was for sure.
No matter what he did to distract himself from the ugliness he felt deep inside, Mark found it difficult to focus on anything else while he was at work. There were people out there that needed his help, but he didn't care about any of them. Sally was still mad at him and refused to let him speak before she ran into the school. She didn't even say goodbye, and that hurt him a lot worse than anything. Mark tried not to let it affect him throughout the rest of the day and focus on his job, but the fight he had with his niece last night was all he could think about, besides the fact that he had avenged Angelina's death by killing off Seth Baxter. And yet, for all the trouble it was worth, none of that mattered to him anymore.
Four hours later, someone came knocking on his office door, bringing Detective Hoffman back to his senses, and when he lifted his head to see who was coming through the door, he was surprised to see that it was none other than Detective Eric Matthews, one of his respected colleagues.
"Hey, some of us are heading out to have lunch", Eric informed him. "Would you care to join us?"
Averting his gaze, Mark placed a folder down on his desk and answered in an uninterested tone of voice, "No, thanks. I'm not hungry."
Sensing that something was wrong, Eric stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. "You okay, Hoffman? I haven't seen you at the Grill during the last weeks."
"I've been dealing with a lot of stressful things at home", Mark informed his fellow officer. "I said some things to my niece last night that I shouldn't have said to her."
"What did you say to her?" Eric asked him, his interest suddenly latched onto the current topic.
For a moment, Mark was silent, trying to hide the truth, but still keep his story straight. "I'd rather not say, but she asked me about Seth Baxter", the detective revealed. "Sally wanted to know if he was really her father and I got angry at her for bringing up his name. We started yelling at each other, and then right near the end, I told Sally that if it weren't for her that my sister would still be here."
Eric looked shocked hearing this coming from Hoffman. "Did you really say that to her?" He asked.
"Yes, and I tried apologizing this morning, but Sally wouldn't listen to me", Mark answered. "She wouldn't even talk to me. I made her cry, Eric. She's just a little girl, she's innocent. I shouldn't have blamed her for anything, but I did. I know what I said to her was wrong, but it's been difficult for me ever since Angelina's death. It's been six years now, for Christ's sake."
"I know. I was there that night, remember?"
"You know as well as everyone else how I feel about Seth Baxter. Ever since I heard he was released from prison, I've been sore about the whole fucking thing. I've never gotten over Angelina's death, and the fact that her daughter is also the child of her murderer…." Mark's voice trailed off at that moment.
"What?" Eric asked him, waiting patiently.
Looking back at his colleague, Mark found his voice again and mentioned to Matthews, "I love Sally like she was my own daughter, but it's difficult for me, regarding the facts. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if I did the right thing by taking her in. Angelina made me Sally's guardian just before she died, but I wonder if she would have been a lot happier if I allowed her to be placed in a foster home."
"Hey, don't talk like that", said Eric, taking a seat in the chair in front of Mark's desk. "Look, I have fights with Daniel all the time. We talk shit to each other almost on a daily basis, but by the end of the day, he's still my son."
"Yeah, but I doubt your son jumps out of the car as soon as you drop him off at school without even saying goodbye", Mark told him.
"Sometimes, but my point is that you shouldn't feel that way about your situation. More importantly, you shouldn't have told Sally the things you said."
"I know, but I wasn't thinking about it at the time. I lost my temper and blamed her for Angelina's death, even though it wasn't her fault. I want to make it up to Sally, but I don't know how."
"Well, I'm not an expert or anything, but maybe if you give yourself some time to think about things and let Sally have some space, she'll come around and start talking to you again."
"But what if she doesn't?" Mark questioned. "The last thing I want is for her to stop talking to me."
"She can't stay mad at you forever", said Eric. "You're her uncle, she loves you. She practically idolizes you."
"Yeah, well, that's the least of my worries."
"Trust me, Hoffman. She'll come around and start talking to you again. Daniel used to do the same thing when he was five, but that's a different story."
Averting his gaze again, Mark picked up the file he was looking at before Eric came in. "You should go."
"Okay. Are you sure you don't want to join us for a bite to eat?"
"No, you go ahead. I have some work I need to catch up on."
"Suit yourself", said Eric, and just as he was about to rise up out of the chair, he sat down again and asked his colleague, "Listen, not that it's any of my business, but have you ever thought about finding yourself a wife or a girlfriend?"
"What are you implying?" Hoffman questioned.
"I'm just saying that Sally could use a mother figure in her life. If she had a positive female-"
"She had a mother once", Mark interrupted. "Even if I were interested in seeing someone, no woman could ever replace the memory of Angelina for her."
"Well, if you won't do it for Sally, than at least do it for yourself", said Matthews. "I'm looking at you right now, and I see you're all tensed up. You need to unwind, Mark. When was the last time you got laid, anyway?"
Instead of answering the question, Mark looked away and sat there for a moment, brooding. "Get out of my office", he whispered, waiting for him to do as he ordered before the thought of strangling Eric came to his mind, and when Matthews didn't budge, Hoffman raised his voice and shouted angrily, "Get the fuck out of here, now!"
"Fine", said Matthews, rising up and heading for the door at last, opening it, and then he turned his head to look back over at Hoffman. "Next time, don't ask me for any advice", he said, then walked out.
Slamming the file down on his desk, Mark pushed his chair back and went over to shut the blinds. He didn't want to see anybody right now and just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his own self-pity.
Turning around, Mark started to walk back over to his desk, stopping in front of the shelf to glance at the smiling face of his sister. The mere sight of Angelina looking back at him was enough to calm the storm that began building up inside him. The pleasant sound of her voice echoed in his mind, as Mark remembered a time when he sat down on the couch and watched Angelina spin her baby around in the air, her playful laughter filling the room while her infant daughter cooed and laughed along with them.
Glancing at his watch, Mark saw that it was thirty-one minutes after twelve. Sally should have been home by then. Returning back to his chair, Mark sat down and took out his cellphone to try calling the number to his apartment and see if his niece would answer. When he received no response, he decided to leave a message on the answering machine, telling Sally to call him back soon as possible and that he loved her. Five minutes passed and there was still no answer. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. An hour….
When he finally got back home, it was five o'clock. Mark unlocked the door and entered his apartment to find his niece was sitting on the couch, watching TV. Sally turned her head to the right to look at the detective who just came in.
"Why didn't you answer any of my calls at the station, Sally?" Mark questioned. "You had me worried sick."
Sally remained silent and returned her gaze back to the television, still giving him the cold shoulder.
Closing the door behind him, Mark walked into the living room and stood in front of the TV, turning it off with the push of a button before he turned his body around to look at Sally, who brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, her gaze locked onto his cold, calculating eyes.
"How long are you going to keep this up for?" Mark questioned the child. "It's been almost twenty-four hours and you're still not talking to me." He went over and stood in front of Sally, sitting down on the coffee table as he tried placing a hand on her shoulder, but she scooted herself away from him. With that alone, Mark finally understood where her behavior was coming from - Sally was afraid of him.
"Sally, don't look at me like that, please", Mark begged her. "You can stay mad at me all you want, but I don't want you to stop talking to me."
"I don't want to say anything if you're just gonna get mad at me every time I talk", Sally said at last.
"Honey, I'm sorry. I've been thinking about all those horrible things I said to you last night and I feel terrible. It was the wrong thing to do, and I should never have said that."
Sally turned her head to her right, looking away from her uncle while murmuring something under her breath that Mark couldn't hear.
"Could you say that a little louder, please?" Mark asked her, gently.
Sally shook her head, afraid of what he might say if she repeated herself.
"Sally, look at me", said Mark, his voice filled with patience. "Honey, I'm not mad at you. I just need you to look at me while you talk to me. Please?"
Hearing genuine concern and tenderness in his voice, Sally chose to give her uncle a second chance by returning her gaze back to him. "I just….don't understand why you didn't tell me I had a dad", she said.
"He's not your..." Mark stopped himself before he raised his voice or said anything else he would have regretted. His demeanor started to change when he heard the child's words, but rather than lash out at her like last time, he remained calm and said, "I mean he's not your father. Biologically, he is, but he's not a real father. Seth Baxter was just an animal that looked like a man. You know he didn't even want you in his life? When he found out your mother was pregnant with you, he told her to get an abortion."
"What's that?" Sally asked him.
Oh, shit! Mark thought to himself, his eyes wide with shock as his face turned white. His blood felt like ice. That last part he mentioned slipped out by accident, and because of the dark nature of the topic and his young niece's innocence, the detective decided to choose his words more carefully this time while he continued talking to her. "Sally, the point is your mother said no", he told her. "She didn't want to give you up, and I didn't want her to give you up, either. She wanted to have you because she loved you."
"Did she love Seth Baxter even though he didn't love me?"
Mark thought about this for a moment. "Sort of. She tried giving him another chance before you were born, but then one day, he did something so terrible that she finally decided she had enough of his trash and broke up with him."
"Did she hate him after they broke up?" Sally questioned.
"Your mother wasn't the hateful type", Mark answered, "but I think she finally saw Seth Baxter for the monster that he really was."
"Do I look like him?"
"No!" The detective barked. The little girl flinched when she heard him raise his voice, and the moment he saw her reaction, Mark's anger quickly diminish, as he raised his left hand to place it on the side of Sally's head to caress her hair, brushing his fingers against her dark strands while he answered her in a more gentler tone, "I mean, no, you look nothing like him. You're nothing like Seth Baxter at all. Everytime I look at you, all I see is my sister, Angelina. Your mother."
"So, you don't hate me, then?"
"Honey, I never said I hated you. I would never say that to you, ever."
"But you thought about it?"
Mark was quiet for a minute. He never said those words out loud before, but the sad truth was that he had thought about it before, a long time ago. Even though he took in the last living connection he had to Angelina, Mark resented having to care for the bastard child of his sister's murderer, even though Sally was innocent and did nothing wrong. If Angelina could learn to love her, why couldn't he?
"Sally, I'm sorry", Mark said at last, looking close to tears. "I mean it, I truly am sorry. I know I haven't been very nice to you, but I don't ever want you to think that I don't love you. You're my niece, and no matter who your father is, no matter what you do or say or think, I will always love you."
With that said, Mark stood up and picked up his niece so he could hold her in his arms, then sat down on the couch and held Sally in his lap, rocking her back and forth as he started cried softly, letting out all the emotions he could no longer hold back. After a moment, he went quiet, only sniffling once in a while.
"Don't cry, Uncle Mark", Sally whispered into his ear. "I forgive you. I don't want you to be sad anymore."
Shuddering a breath, Mark tightened his hold on the child. This small, goodhearted, compassionate human being who couldn't hold onto hatred for very long. Her heart was as pure of her gentle soul.
"I'm not a good uncle, Sal", Mark whimpered, feeling more tears fall from his eyes.
"Yes, you are", Sally reassured him. "Just don't talk mean to me like that again, okay? Please."
Mark nodded in response, gasping as he tried to calm himself down and stop crying.
"You okay now?" Sally asked him.
Sniffling, the detective nodded again and said, "I am. And I want you to know I meant every word I said to you just now. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to stop talking to me. Understand?"
"Mm-hmm", the child hummed, nodding her head.
Mark held onto her for a bit longer, then he took a deep breath and wiped his face before he released his hold on Sally so he could look at her while he spoke. "Let's make a promise. Right now, you and me. From now on, we need to be straight honest with each other. No more secrets. Deal?"
"Okay", Sally agreed. "Can I make a promise for us, too?"
"Like what?"
"If I promise to protect you, then you have to promise to protect me. I protect you, you protect me. Deal?"
Without hesitation, Mark offered his hand to Sally, who accepted that as a 'yes' and shook hands with her uncle, both of them agreeing to accept the terms and conditions of the promises they just made.
Now that things were settled between them, Sally finally decided to show her uncle a smile and threw her arms around Mark's neck, giving him a big hug, followed by a kiss on his left cheek.
"I love you, Uncle Mark", said the child.
"I love you, too, Sally", the detective said back to her, and he meant it. He never wanted his niece to feel bad like that ever again, and he most certainly never wanted her to stop loving him as her uncle.