Chapter Eight: A Guilty Conscience

Mary brushed through her now short hair. She felt somewhat exposed without her long locks, and she kept feeling a rather unpleasant breeze sweep over her shoulder. She sighed, “It’s just hair . . . it will grow back.” Mary sighed once more. It felt she was blowing every little thing out of proportion lately.

The silence of her bedroom was comforting. Mary stretched out on her bed and slowly began to relax. You’re just stressed . . . she told herself, and she was. She sighed contently once she felt a little more at ease, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a quality bed . . .” Mary turned on her side and soon felt her eyelids grow heavy. A little nap won’t hurt . . .

A soft wailing soon began to waft through Mary’s dreams. It grew louder and louder until finally she began to open her tired eyes. It was dark in her bedroom. Since she had no clock, Mary had no idea what time it was, but she knew it was late just by seeing how dark it was outside. Suddenly, she heard Vincent’s wail again. Still being half asleep, her mind thought of the worst possible reason why he was crying. She stumbled out of bed and into his bedroom, hitting every doorframe along the way, and sighed when she saw nothing was wrong.

Mary picked him up with gentle hands and cradled him closely. He was all she really had left, and that was enough for her. She fed him, kissed his forehead, and then put him back in his crib so he could sleep. Although she should have been sleeping herself, Mary wasn’t tired. Her mind was now full of ideas and thoughts, and she needed to go somewhere quiet to think about them.

One good thing about the lot that her parents had given her was the view. On the very edge of the lot was a beautiful view of the sea and the lighthouse, and at night, it was even more beautiful. The stars and the moon reflected onto the water as if it was a mirror, and the lighthouse illuminated every beautiful location in the distance. It was almost too good to be true.

Now that she was somewhere peaceful, Mary’s thoughts began to flow like a current in the ocean: fast. One second she was thinking about when she first arrived in Appaloosa; next she was thinking about when she was leaving. To the beginning, to the end, and with every little detail in-between. Had she never moved to Appaloosa, what would have become of her? Mary sighed, “I would probably still be on this huge lot alone with no house . . .” but somehow, she doubted that.

Her family and she had lived in Sunset Valley in her childhood and early teens. They had lived in a large but comfortable manor house on the other side of town. Everyone knew her parents, and everyone respected them. It would have only been a matter of time before people figured out that the heir to the Winters family had come back. Would it only be a matter of time before they figured her out? Mary shook her head. That was impossible; she had undergone a complete transformation, and she knew her friends back in Appaloosa would clean up after her flawlessly.

Soon she began to get more and more paranoid. “I just need to get some sleep . . .” Mary said quietly.

* * *

Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. Time was passing by quickly, and from what she could see, people were forgetting about the murders of Appaloosa Plains. They were still searching for the killer, but their leads kept coming up short. Eventually, Mary stopped worrying about getting caught. Though her paranoia was fading, her guilt was as strong as ever. Several times, she had considering turning herself in, but she knew she couldn’t do that. Vincent needed his real mother; not a foster parent.

Mary didn’t leave her home often. Her new boss had suggested she stay on the down low, and she had no issue with that. Soon enough, she fell into a cycle and she began to get used to being a single mother, but some of the simplest things, such as cooking, would bring her back to the memories of Li. While Mary had been pregnant, Li did everything for her. Cook, clean, take care of the pets, and she even offered to give Mary a bath.

Every time she would offer to do little things for Mary, Mary would deny her. “I can take care of myself some, Li,” Mary would say as she laughed. Mary leaned against her counter and sighed. “Back in the day, I would have loved for someone to do everything for me . . .” she took a long drink of her bitter black coffee.

Suddenly, Mary slammed her coffee down onto the countertop and then slid down to the floor and began weeping. She missed Li. She missed her parents. She wished she could turn back the wheels of time. Before the murders, before the move, all the way back to her younger days. Perhaps if she had taken more care of herself instead of making someone else do it, things would have turned out differently. She could still be living in Bridgeport without any kind of criminal history. Living a comfortable life surrounded by glamorous people and glamorous things. Had that been the case though, wouldn’t she be just as spoiled as she had been when she left her parents?

* * *

The day came soon, almost too soon. Vincent’s birthday had come, and he was ready to become a toddler. Mary set up a small birthday party for the two of them and then they waited until the time came. The time soon came and then Mary blew out the candles for Vincent, and the sparkles came. Before her eyes, Mary’s cute little son was now a toddler. She quickly swept him up in her arms. In that brief moment, she forgot about her guilt and her hazy future and prepared to be the best mother to the best of her ability.