Twenty-Five:

TWENTY-FIVE:

Home

Jed, who had run ahead of the rest, burst through the door, trembling and out of breath. The smell within hit him hard, offending and displacing his senses. Butcher shop stink. Blood. Raw meat. Shit. It wasn’t just the room that smelled, but he, also.

Violent afternoon cartoons played too loud from the television. It was getting dark quick and the first hailstones were pelting the corrugated roofing, filling the house with hollow pot-and-pan rumblings.

Curtains billowed, signaling the arrival of rain.

Reggie cradled Liz between her legs by the kitchen door, hugged her from behind, an awkward bundle of limbs rocking to and fro.

She was conscious of the flesh in her hands, the sensation of her skin pressing against her daughter’s dead weight, but her mind was mostly empty.

Once, she’d entertained the thought of being a teacher, only like most of her aspirations, it never eventuated. Instead, Reggie bounced between office work and retail, never quite happy. As a c