Laura stared at the notebook, exasperated. She chewed the pen cap furiously as she stared at the mess of inky numbers across the open pages.

‘Still not enough!’

The mail just came in, and with it, more bills and warnings. Laura ran her hands through her hair in frustration; it had become her habit these past few weeks. Mortgagers were ringing her day and night, and the hospital bills to keep her son alive were piling up already near the limits of their health insurance. Problems were just raining down from the sky. At least Mark had been acquitted, He hadn’t actually done anything. He was acquitted from the false allegations thrown at him, but the bad press still prevented him from returning to his job. When she said that she should look for work as well, Mark had insisted that she should remain a housewife. However, that was weeks ago. Something needed to change.

And so, the grueling endeavor of working out job possibilities with her job coach began. Checking the web on her laptop, she applied for three online jobs with potential, as well as a part-time job as a technical assistant. Whenever she felt she was going to be overwhelmed the image of her son flashed and rekindled the flame.

‘Not yet’

She moved through the mess of crumpled and half-torn pieces of paper everywhere to the window sill, her blue coffee mug staring at her silently from the window’s edge, cold from camping out there since morning. Her sad eyes gazed at the big orange sun with all its fury simmered to a tender glow. Her son was a curious child, not just the one that came naturally at that age. It was exceedingly abundant, bordering on totally annoying but adorable nonetheless.

Even though it seemed like everything was Mark’s fault, it wasn’t true. She had watched silently when her son was tormented, and every time her son would stare at her with the same questions.

Why?

Why was it happening to him?

Why was she allowing it?

She had been so blinded by pain from her daughter that she didn’t notice—No she had ignored it. She had stuck her head in the sand and pretended it didn’t happen. Until it was too late. He had been drowning. Her son was drowning and was so accustomed to being ignored that he stopped fighting; and sank

‘I should have said something, done something.’

The door opened behind her—her husband. He usually came back at the dead of night.

“Hey,” She said as she walked up to him, her hands spread out for a hug. His hands shot up to hers and held them in place in the air. It confused her

“What's wro—” She mumbled

“Don’t. I’m all sweaty,” He finally said.

He hastily walked in the direction of the shower and closed the door. She heard him turn the knob and the rush of water. She picked up a framed picture of her daughter Ellie that stood on one of the sofa chairs and she slumped down into the coach. She missed her little angel. Too young to see the world for it was, with a smile so bright it could light it up

If Ellie was here, she could cheer her right up with that smile. A dull ache surfaced in her chest as memories of her daughter appeared. Something wet touched her from behind. She flinched slightly and turned back. It was Mark with a towel wrapped around him. It was his hand on her shoulder.

“You scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” He said, his voice low as he hugged her.

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"Augh! You're all wet!" Laura complained.

She noticed him staring listlessly at the papers on the floor. His expression pained her, but she couldn’t find the words. Just as she wanted to speak, he walked around and sat beside her.

“Need some help with that?” He asked, gesturing to the papers as he walked around and sat beside her.

She watched him sigh as he reviewed the figures, his countenance sinking by the second. Her hand met his shoulder.

She looked down on the papers. She blew out a deep breath.

“I- Yes. Yes I do- but.”“

“But?”

“I can’t seem to find the energy. But I need to find it because our son is in the hospital and-”

“I know it’s hard,” He whispered into her ears, his soft breath caressing them. “You need a break or you’ll crash and burn, I’m sure our son wouldn’t want that.”

She wanted to talk; they hadn’t spoken in weeks now, barely seeing much of each other during the day. Just as she wanted to snap back that he should do the same, she heard his voice, barely audible.

“I remember when he used to sing around the house all the time. ”

“Yeah, his voice, so beautiful but he’d turned it into a disturbance, we could never seem to get him to stop,” She replied, her dry throat burning with emotions.

“...and when you asked him why he sang so much, remember what he said?”

“To stop would be to die, I cannot keep this music inside me or it’ll explode,” She replied as his memories of him filled her vision.

The smug grin on his face as he said those words, her chest felt heavy, She'd lost their son a long time ago, long before this incident.

"We have to be strong, for him,” Mark said to her. "He wouldn't want this."

Suddenly anger rose inside of her. Anger towards him, anger towards herself.

“How would you know!?” She said coldly.

“What?” He asked, confused as she pushed herself away from him. “...I mean he wouldn’t want to see his mother break down.” He replied

“How do you know he doesn’t hate us for all we’ve put him through” She finally broke down, falling to her knees in tears;

“I…” That was the only thing Mark could say in response; there was no way of knowing.

“...I’m sorry,” He said simply.

They weren’t meant for them but for their child, who attempted to take his own life. She had gone wrong in so many things.

“Remember we have to be better for him, you said those words,” He said.

“And I die a little more each time, how can we be better? How? What could we possibly do? I’m not even sure he’ll wake up. It’s been three months!” She wailed at the top of her lungs, the pain and despair threatening to swallow her.

“I always wondered how you could be strong and press on, honestly it seemed like to you all that happened was only a minor setback but you’re holding it all in”

“How can you stand there and talk so calmly! You abused our son and I watched!” She sobbed into her knees.

“I... know,” He said as she noticed his eyes welled up with tears.“...and no matter I do it will never make up for what I’ve done but If I—” His voice cracked as he tried to hold back the tide; to calm himself, he cleared his throat.

“But if we don’t try, doesn’t it mean we don’t care? That all we did to him was okay.”

She became mute, the emotions were overwhelming. She wished this was all a bad dream and that her only child being on the brink of death was only a nightmare and if she woke up, he would be there to tell her about how he was okay.

‘Why?’

‘Why did this have to happen to us.’

‘God, please bring him back to me, to us, please let me have the chance to at least try.’

She pleaded as she wept.

“Please, stop. I—I can’t bear to see you like this, I just can’t,” Mark said, embracing her tighter.

“I’m sorry,” She finally said after a while.

“What are you apologizing for?” He asked with a tender voice and silently sniffed.

“I just wish—”

“It’s alright,” He interrupted, he heaved her up into his arms into a princess carry, and lifted her off to her bedroom.

After laying her on the bed properly.

“You rest.” He kissed her forehead, ”I’m gonna stay up for a bit. I will be with you in a moment.”

He tiptoed to the living room and sat before the papers she was working on. He sighed as he picked up the stack of papers, and continued where she had left off.

‘Please be okay for us, son.’