Before I could do that, he opened 
the door and smiled, “Come here, buddy.
We want to talk to you.”               
     I think he saw the worried look on
my face, and that’s why he added,      
“Don’t worry. You’re not in any trou-  
ble. We just want to talk to you about 
what you said to your Mother.”         
     Except for Santa and a whole slew 
of other fake characters like the Eas- 
ter Bunny, and oh yeah, where Memere   
and Pepere went when they died, my par-
ents always talked things over with me 
like an adult, and not like a kid.     
     I got to ask questions, say things
in my defense, and sometimes, I’d even 
be able to change their minds about    
something.                             
     This time, I just listened and    
didn’t get to say a thing, not that I  
* really wanted to.                        
     First, they sat me down and tried 
to explain, in detail, why what I said 
was a bad thing. A very, very bad      
thing. Ending with Daddy telling me,   
“It’s like you wished Mommy would leave
us, or even worse, that she’d die.”    
     I remember my reaction to that as 
clear as a ringing bell, because that’s
not what I wanted at all. Shit like    
that was going through my head all the 
time. It was like a TV set was always  
on up there, playing some of the best  
and worst horror movies of all time,   
but that didn’t mean I wanted my Mommy 
to leave or die.                       
     I started crying, and she came    
over to give me a hug.                 
     “I’m sorry Mommy,” I blubbered and
tried to hold her tight. “Please, don’t
ever leave me Mommy, never, ever,      
forever.”                              



CHAPTER 1: WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 15th
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