She studied the picture on the bedside table, pure hatred sizzling just above the surface. The happy family in the picture smiled back at her; the three small children and the father oblivious to what the woman – who was almost the carbon copy of herself – was going to do, was doing, and had already done.

Absolutely shameless.

If it had not been for her two younger brothers – Logan and Ian - who were so attached to the picture, she would have smashed and burned it a long, long time ago. Even now, when their Papa lay on the hospital bed – possible dying – they had begged her to allow them to bring them that little item that caused her so much frustration and anger, thinking that it might offer their Papa some small comfort.

She had nearly laughed – if only they knew.

Then again, perhaps it was good that they did not.

She gave a small sigh, watching her two brothers sleep beside her Papa. They had nodded off a couple of hours ago, making her feel as if it was really only her, her Papa, and the complementary machines by him that kept him alive. Her chest tightened at every delayed beep, her hopes soared with every fluttering eyelid, only to be brought crashing down even harder when he did not wake.

She saw red every time he murmured her mother's name.

Uncle Kevin – her parents' long time friend – had been beyond reason when she told him she had not contacted their mother despite the fact that her Papa had been wheeled into the ER almost half a day ago. In fact, the only reason why he knew was because Sarah was there at the accident site, who told her mother, who told Edward, who told Jenny, who told her neighbour, who told Cole, who had been so drunk at the moment that he announced the accident to the whole town after hijacking the local radio station.

So there he was, shouting in the waiting room at an adolescent girl, who only stared back at him with a glazed look, as if she were already day dreaming. The whole town would have known...