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Running to the cupboard, I grab towels, wet one with warm water, then go back to her side. My rage builds as I gently clean away the evidence of her desecration. Has this happened before? By one person or more?

When I’m finished, I dress her, replace her bedspread, then crash on the chair with my face in my hands. My foot is bouncing up and down like I’m about to take off.

I can’t let this happen. She’s not a sex doll for some sicko to come in. She is my mother. And she deserves more.

She didn’t get the life that she should have had. And I’ll be damned if she doesn’t at least have her body respected in death.

This must happen. Now. Time is up.

I wipe my eyes and runny nose with a sniffle, then scooch to my mom’s side, taking her hand in mine.

“Mom… I know that you haven’t been here for a while, and I’ve been holding onto hope that you would come back to me on unbacked faith…” My voice cracks, and I sniff. I’m not ready for this. I rub my thumb back and forth over the back of her hand. “I promise, you won’t feel a thing… Maybe you will finally be at rest.” I wipe my eyes and swallow down the lump that’s forming. “I will do my best to stick around… But I cannot put my life in the hands of people I don’t trust. I won’t do it. I’ve seen too much of what can be done, too much of what was done to you… I know that whichever way this goes, it won’t be what you wanted for me. But, I promise, everything will be okay. Whichever way this goes, I will be okay.” Bringing her hand to my lips, I kiss the top of her hand. “I love you. I’ll see you soon.” Then I set her hand down, fix her hair, and take a breath.

Thud. Thud. Thud. My heart beats in my ears as I round the foot of the bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

No more.

I take the plug to her life support in hand, give it a yank, and let out a breath.

Beeeeeeeeeeep!

Gone.

The machine goes on and on as if it’s already a distant memory. I turn on my heel, exit the room, and flag down the other nurse on staff.

“She’s gone. Don’t allow anyone in the room, I’m going to make her arrangements.” It’s a matter of fact. Either my training on staying numb is paying off, or I made my peace and grieved the loss of my mother a long time ago.

I make my way to Dean’s, who is undoubtedly still in bed, and knock on the door. Normally, I would let myself in, but I want to respect Dahlia’s new space. When she opens it, her face falls. Maybe the chaos inside of me is coming through more than I thought.

“Violet? Is everything okay?”

“No,” I keep my tone composed. Things may not be okay, but I’m handling them. “Get Dean for me, would you? I need his help with something.”

Tic.

I’m running out of time.

Tic.

Step one. Bury her body.

Tic.

Step two. Grab registration papers from the office.

Tic.

Step three. Hope that he says yes.

“Hey, Violet!” Dean grabs my hand, pulling me from the trans I entered while waiting for him to change. He lifts it to his eyes, showing me the blood. Apparently, that ticking sound was my skin picking. I haven’t done that in a while…

“Ready to get dirty?” His brow furrows as he raises a brow. But when I tell him she died, he frowns.

We grab a pair of shovels from the greenhouse and go to the edge of the woods. I thought about burying her in our old garden, a place where we spent hours together. She taught me about which flowers and herbs could be used for teas or medicines, or which ones she just liked because they were pretty. Violets were her favorite, the flower for which I was named.

But that’s not my home anymore; the entire house is tainted with a nightmare. Besides, I walked by the other day, and Richard is back. That’s why I can’t dottle with this.