Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island by Cash Michael Phillip

Author:Cash, Michael Phillip [Cash, Michael Phillip]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Red Feather Publishing
Published: 2013-06-17T05:00:00+00:00

chapter 4

Wednesday

The next day, he dressed with care covering up the bruises with his high-necked button-down shirt. Some of Allison’s makeup covered the parts that peeked above his collar. He fed the kids and got everyone off to school. Jesse was solemn, almost standing in the shadow of his twin. Veronica watched both Jesse and her father, her silver eyes big in her white face. He had to do something; the grief was making them all crazy. They’d end up locking them all up. Stella hung back, her brown eyes wide and staring at him.

“Daddy...” She came up close.

He bent down and came face to face with her. “Do you think I can go to dance again? I had to stop when Mommy got sick, because no one could take me. I really want to dance again.”

He touched her soft cheek. “Of course, Stella Luna. I’ll set it up. If I can’t take you, I’ll get Nonni to do it.” He realized that Allison’s illness had robbed them all of a normal life. When she first got sick, they mobilized to get all the treatments going. Both sets of parents helped, as well as his sister; her nursing skills proved to be a lifesaver for him. But the kids became casualties of the cancer too. Keeping them in school was all he could do; every ounce of time, strength, and money, every resource went to Allison. Reiki, special food to tempt the invalid, massages, therapies, you name it—they all pitched in and no one, as well as no expense was spared. None of it mattered in the end. All the special diets, medicine, and then the more advanced medicine made each day a living hell as she was tortured into living. Sores covered her body, her hair fell out, light hurt her eyes, but they kept trying more and more things, knowing she was terminal, but doing everything to prolong her life until finally the empty husk that was his wife, faded and slipped away.

He pressed both his palms against his eyes and tried to blot out the final images of her parchment-like yellowed skin and her eyes sunken into their sockets until she resembled the living corpse she had become. Why did they do it, he wondered. It had reached a point where she didn’t even know they were in her room, but there was always one more thing they could try, and they did. Until finally, she held up her hand and whispered, “Enough, let me go,” and he did. Tears pricked his eyes and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t,” he told her. “Please...” she whispered back, her lips dry and cracked.

He would set up dancing for the girls and basketball for his son, today, for sure. It was time for the kids to live again.

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“Dreams. Dreams.” He convinced himself but still refused to turn on the radio. They were influencing each other. How else could both he and his son have the same

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