"Sam, what are you doing on the floor?" Patty spoke softly, yet with an underlying sadness to her voice. "Come on son, up you come. Come and sort yourself out," she implored gently. Louis was awake looking quizzically at his feet as he kicked them out in the air in direct angles above him. He gurgled occasionally, as though he found some private joke both fascinating and hilarious at the same time. Meanwhile, Sam laid on the floor, wrapped in the green sofa throw that was his makeshift blanket for the time being. He was cocooned into a tight ball, laid on his side staring at his son in his crib. Sam's eyes and face were devoid of attention and emotion. He felt vacant and empty. Desolate. He watched Louis kick and gurgle and wondered if he had realised he had been over a day without Mom. Mom who was always present at home with him. A thought passed Sam's mind that at least Louis would be too young to remember any of this, even when he notices his poor mother wasn't there any more that it would pass. Sam closed his eyes silently and felt a shudder of sadness. He would never know his Mom and in some ways that was worse. Sam knew that for as long as he lived he would ensure Louis knew everything about his mother. Sam wished they had taken more photographs. He resolved immediately to have printed and backed up every single photo he had taken on his phone. He wished he had taken photos of her every day and made a mental note to ask Mr. and Mrs. Jones for photographs of her when she was little so Louis would have as much as possible of Brooklyn's short, beautiful life. "SHIT!" said Sam, standing up abruptly and pacing the small bedroom up and down, "oh shit, oh shit, fuck!" he said wearily. Sam looked at his own mother in the room. He'd heard her words but couldn't process them when he was on the floor. That she had been trying to get him to rouse himself from his melancholy. "Oh god, what have I done? I am such a fucking awful man. Bad man, bad man," he cried. "What is it son, what is it?" pleaded Patty. "Brooklyn's folks. Her poor parents. I didn't speak to them yesterday at all. They're sure to have heard of the crash but they won't know who. What if they don't know? They don't know their sweet child is dead." Sam put his hand over his face, losing himself. Another horrible day to face. "It's okay Sam, it's okay. Ella spoke to them yesterday and they called here whilst you were at the station. They wanted to come round but I told them I'd call them back. When you got home yesterday you were such a mess. I can't let anyone near you if I can help it. You need to reach for your own oxygen first son. I..." "You had no right to do that Mom!" cried Sam, "they will be devastated and think I don't care. They'll think I did it, just like the police do!" "Now, quiet that crazy talk Sam..." interrupted Patty before Sam interjected. "I'm going around this morning Mom. I need to see them. They need to see Louis." "Not that you're not," Patty said firmly. "You're not driving and you need to wash and put some clean clothes on. I know this is tough son, but I'm going to help you every step of the way." Sam picked his son out of his crib and walked past him mom, "Louis needs his breakfast," he said sourly. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Patty walked into the living room where Sam was feeding Louis. "I'm sorry Sam. I don't want us to fall out and I know you're hurting like you've never hurt before. I want to protect you and help you, I really do but I don't know how..." "I'll call Brooklyn's folks and ask them to come around. I'm sorry I put them off I really am." Patty left the room and Sam could hear her talking on the phone. He knew she meant well and he knew she acted out of love for him. He looked at Louis and the thought passed his mind about how he would feel if he was dead. The thought felt like a hot knife through him as if he thought the very idea was sending him to hell. His own baby, what kind of a man thought that shit? Sam forced himself to change and dress Louis and held the boy tight. He kissed him as Patty returned and told him that Brooklyn's parents would be calling that morning. Whilst Patty watched Louis Sam walked into the bathroom and stared in the mirror. He looked like garbage. Black rings dragged his eyes down, he hadn't shaved since two mornings ago. Not being the most hirsute man his facial hair now looked untidy. His hair was ruffled and untidy. His eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks sticky with the tears that had fallen. No matter how much he had cried and thought there couldn't possibly be a single tear left in him there was always a torrent more at the mere thought of Brooklyn. Sam was still wearing the same clothes he had been wearing on that fateful night, same sweater, same t-shirt, same jeans, same socks, same underwear. He lifted his shirt off and smelled himself. He stank. "I stink of the end of life" he said into the mirror. He threw his shirt and sweater into the corner of the bathroom and looked at himself with self-loathing. He hadn't washed, shaved or brushed his teeth for a few days. "I've been looking after Louis like this," he said into the mirror, "you're a fucking disgrace," he said quietly. Sam washed his face and then shaved mechanically. He looked in the mirror and almost immediately could see a transformation. He brushed his teeth and swilled his mouth with mouthwash letting the minty, chemical fluid roll around his mouth. Sam turned on the shower and let it warm up before stripping and stepping in. He let the hot water flow over him and clean him, to try and wash away some of the pain, some of the sadness. Images of Brooklyn came to the forefront of his mind. Her smile and her laugh. Her playful punches on his arm. Her smile, her smile, her smile.... Sam looked down at his naked body and felt so useless, as though his very manhood had disappeared because he couldn't save the one he loved. He rested his head against the wall of the shower unit and shut his eyes, letting the water flow over him. Time passed. Sam couldn't tell whether it was minutes or hours or even seconds but he opened his eyes. Sam turned off the shower, slowly noticing the shower head spraying jets to streams to trickles to drops of water. He left the shower and got himself dry and walked into his bedroom. He looked around and his heart dropped again. Brooklyn's things were everywhere. Her hairbrush, her nail file. Shoes left in the corner of the room. Her jewellery box. She was everywhere. Sam walked to his wardrobe and opened it to get dressed. He looked at Brooklyn's drawers and wardrobe. [I]'Not now, not now, not now'[/I] he thought. Being those doors was fear. Something to be terrified of. All her possessions. Sam knew he couldn't open those foreboding pieces of furniture without breaking down. [I]'Not today Sam'[/I] he thought. Dressed Sam lay on his bed for a moment, wondering what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his life. He turned and stared at Brooklyn's side by the window. More than anything he wanted to reach out and hold her. To kiss her just one more time. To value just one more day. "I love you so much," he said before turning onto Brooklyn's side of the bed and burying his face into her pillow, smelling the residual scent of her hair and cologne. Sam heard a knock at the door. "Are you okay Sam?" asked Patty. "Brooklyn's folks will be here soon."