Page 42 of Where Darkness Falls

No one is responding.

I can barely see as the flood of tears streams from my eyes.

“Deidre! Aine! Fion!” I wail.

Still not one sound.

My chin quivers. “Cara!” I say.

My wails fill the sky as I stand before my family’s broken bodies.

Rolph is charred to a crisp. If it wasn’t for the sheer size of the man, I wouldn’t recognize him.

“Papa!” I scream, as bile rises in my throat.

Amelia is at his side, her hand angled toward the love of her life as if reaching for him.

Dropping to my knees, I grab her face.

Her warm eyes are glassy and hollow. Her body is peppered with small burns and a deep, oozing gash across her throat. “Mama?” I cry.

She doesn’t respond.

“Mama!” I say, louder this time.

She’s truly gone.

My heart shatters as I cradle her body. Who will now be my voice of reason? Who will remind me to look at the stars when the darkness overwhelms me? I kiss her head as I gently lay her broken body back on the ground.

I can’t breathe as I spot the twins. Cillian and Aiden are covered in severe burns along their bodies, revealing the sinew and bone beneath their flesh. There’s blood seeping from their stomachs in rapid succession. “I’m sorry, brothers,” I sob. “You didn’t deserve this.”

I move on from their bodies to stand over little Fion and Aine. I close my eyes as I scream at the horrid scene. Their necks are broken at odd angles. There’s no rise or fall of their chests, as their lifeless eyes stare back at me. I bend down, grabbing each of their little hands.

“Fion, I need you to get up buddy,” I whisper. “Who else is going to steal my desserts?”

I struggle to suck in a breath as my body trembles violently.

What monster could do this to children?

“My little doll,” I cry, facing Aine. “You and I are supposed to play dress up, remember? I promised you I would! Please wake up, Aine.”

Despite my pleas, no life dances behind her beautiful little eyes.

“I PROMISED!” I yell.

My wails are manic now as grief consumes me.

This is too painful.

It’s too much.

“I’m so sorry,” I cry.

“Maeva,” a garbled voice whispers from my left.

Gasping, I turn my head and find Cara—body destroyed, covered in blood.

I crawl along the ground until I’m cradling her head in my lap. I smooth back her long auburn tresses. Her left arm is severed, lying several feet from her body, while two long gashes run across her neck and abdomen. Her breathing is shallow. I press my free hand against the gash in her neck, begging the warm liquid to stop flowing.

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