Tragic mercy, p.1
Tragic Mercy, page 1
part #1 of Tragic Mercy Series
Tragic Mercy
Book I
E. A. Owen
Twisted Karma Publishing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Tragic Mercy Book I
Previously Published as: A Curse of Torment
Copyright © 2018 by Twisted Karma Publishing.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Design: Ira-Rebeca (Ukraine)
Author Website: eaowenbooks.com
Facebook.com/eaowenbooks
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part I Family Memories
Mary
Elliott
Natalie
Part II Trevor
Julia
Summer Vacation
A Crush
A Bad Feeling
The Tragedy
Kentucky
Coma
Memories
The Williams
Trevor & Julia
The Surprise
The Baby
Isabella
Devastating Discovery
The Curse
For My Dear Friend KC
I wish life had turned out
differently for you
I miss you!
Prologue
The throbbing in my skull was so violent it felt like my head was splitting in two. Disoriented, drifting in and out of consciousness, my eyelids slowly fluttered open, blinded by the bright light. A loud ringing echoed through my ears. I felt like a helpless prisoner to the excruciating pain.
What just happened?
Raising my trembling hand, I wiped the warm liquid running down my forehead—it was blood. I gasped, feeling every ache and broken bone. I laid there terrified, my eyes frantically darting back and forth. With every breath I took, a sharp pain jabbed my lungs. Shattered glass was everywhere.
I remembered with horror that Natalie was in the car with me. Painfully, I turned my head toward her until I could see her lifeless body. Her hair was thick with blood, and her crystal-blue eyes stared blankly, clouded over with an emptiness that chilled me. I strained my eyes, looking closer for anything; a breath, a blink—but nothing. She just lay there, still and silent. I tried to yell her name, but no sound came out. Warm tears rolled down my cheeks. This is just a dream. This is just a dream, I repeated to myself. Hoping if I said it enough, it would be true.
I closed my eyes and let out the most agonizing scream.
Part I
Family Memories
As I walk the endless streets among happy families smiling and laughing together, as if they have no cares in this world, my tears fall like rain. Life used to be simple. I used to be happy. Now, my reality is full of darkness, anger, guilt, and sadness all whipping around me like a fierce tornado. I can only watch helplessly while everything around me is destroyed
***
On March 11, 1955, Madeline and Mason had their first child, a healthy baby girl they named, Mary Elizabeth Walker. According to my mother’s diary, I was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. Born with a head full of dark hair and big, bright blue eyes, a tiny little nose, and rosy red cheeks. I was the perfect baby, very precious and delicate. My mother said she never knew she could love someone so much the first time she saw me.
Over the next few months, Mom and Dad were discussing how they didn't think Massachusetts was the best place to raise a family. They never thought in a million years they would move away from family and friends, but to them it was just not the right place, now that they had a new addition to the family who had changed their entire perspective of the world.
They researched and discussed where they thought would be best for their family and careers. They put the house up for sale right after my first birthday, knowing the house could possibly sit on the market for years before it sold. They loved the house but knew they could find the perfect home anywhere their hearts desired.
After six months of people coming in and out of our house interested in buying it, they finally got an offer they couldn't refuse and had to get serious about moving, because they only had about three months for all the paperwork to go through and for the new family to move in. They felt that a small town in the mid-west would be perfect to raise a family. After long nights lying in bed discussing the best options, they came to a final decision of the little town of Astoria, South Dakota, a quiet town surrounded by farmland but not too far from everything. It was only a few miles from the border of Minnesota and just ninety miles north of the biggest city in South Dakota, Sioux Falls, with a population of over 60,000.
They researched houses for sale in Astoria and were shocked by how cheap they were. They spoke to a realtor on the phone and arranged times to see a few houses out there. Then they purchased plane tickets. I stayed with my grandparents while they went exploring South Dakota. They looked at three houses right in town and another just on the outskirts of Astoria on Oak Lake. The houses in town were much cheaper and needed some work, but they fell in love with the house on Oak Lake. It had a long gravel driveway and a dock leading out to the lake. It was peaceful and quiet with not another house in miles, so they would have plenty of privacy. The house was a pale yellow two-story, four-bedroom ranch with plenty of land and a great view of the lake. This was the perfect spot—away from the east coast traffic, crime, and drugs—to raise a family. They put an offer on the house and were waiting to hear back from the realtor. The very next day my parents got the good news that their offer had been accepted and went to a local bank to fill out the paperwork for a home loan.
***
Three months later, we were all packed and on our way to our new home in Astoria, South Dakota, which had a population of 155 people–halfway across the country. Life there would be much different than our life in Boston, which had a population of over half a million. There were lots of tears shed over leaving family and friends behind, as well as the place they were both born and raised. But my parents embraced the big change in our lives and knew this was the best decision they had ever made—besides getting married and having me of course.
Both my parents started their new jobs within a couple of weeks after the move. The commute to and from work, a scenic and peaceful drive, was seamless compared to all the traffic in Boston they had experienced daily. I started daycare for the first time and loved playing with all the other kids my age and made lots of friends. But I missed my grandparents. I had gone to their house five days a week for almost fifteen months. I know all these little details because my mom kept a journal and shared with me all these wonderful details.
After a year in our new house and adjusting to our new lives out in the country, my mom announced that I was going to have a baby brother or sister soon. Her belly started getting bigger and my mom would grab my hand and put it on her tummy and ask me if I could feel the baby moving. I would lay my head on her belly and give the baby big hugs and lots of kisses.
***
A few weeks before my third birthday, my baby brother, Matthew Joseph, was born. We were a very happy family. All four of my grandparents came to visit us to meet my new baby brother, and while they were with us, we celebrated my third birthday. My parents threw a big princess birthday party for me and I got lots of presents! One set of grandparents stayed for a week and the other for a whole month to help my mom while Dad went back to work. I was sad to see them leave. I wanted them to stay with us forever, but once they left the house was quiet again.
My baby brother slept a lot. It made me sad because I wanted to play with him all the time, but he was too little to do anything fun. He just lay there. Soon enough, however, he started crawling and getting into everything. He would pull things down and knock things over. He thought it was funny and would laugh. Matthew had the cutest little laugh.
At six months old, Matthew started crawling. At least now I could chase him around the room. He tried to get away from me and was a fast-little bugger. Mom and Dad said it would probably be another five or six months before he would start walking.
I liked helping Mom feed him when he was old enough to sit in his highchair. I would climb into a chair next to him and copy what my mom did, swirling the spoon up and down and all around like an airplane while making funny noises until Matthew opened his mouth wide for a bite. He made a big mess when he started eating, all over his face and on his bib, and I'm sure I didn't help much, being only three and a half years old at the time, but I loved being Mommy's little helper. It made me feel like a big girl.
Matthew started walking before his first birthday and we used to clap and cheer him on with every step he took. It was a big deal for Mom. She missed all the firsts with me because she went right back to work when I was just twelve weeks old. She didn't want to miss any of it with Matthew, so my mom stayed at home and raised us after Matthew was born. My dad worked a lot, but we spent every weekend together and did fun stuff as a family and took lots of trips together.
For Matthew's first birthday, we went to the Lincoln Children’s Zoo in Nebraska. We saw lots of animals, big and small, but our favorite was the monkeys, swinging around from tree to tree and making funny noises. We got t o feed llamas, goats, and deer; and Matthew snuck some of their food in his mouth and ate it. Neither of our parents saw, and I just giggled and said, “EWWWW!” Mom and Dad were preoccupied by all the cool animals and they hadn't even noticed. Matthew didn't spit it out, so he must have liked it. To me, the animal food smelled bad and looked funny, but I found out at a young age that boys often do gross things. We spent all day at the zoo and stayed the night at a big hotel with a swimming pool. Dad had started teaching me how to swim when I was three. Matthew was still too little, but he liked dunking his head under the water and getting all wet and we laughed and splashed each other a lot.
We had a little party at the hotel with cake and presents. Matthew was old enough to rip open all the presents by himself. He ripped them apart fast, then threw the gift aside and went to the next. Mom tried picking up each gift and telling him all about it, but he wasn't interested. He just wanted to open the next, and the next, and so finally she stopped trying. My mom said I was the complete opposite. I wanted to start playing with each gift I opened and kept forgetting that I had more. So, Mom would have to take the gift away and hide it behind her back and put a newly wrapped gift in front of me.
My brother’s favorite present was the big dinosaur that roared and moved on its own. Matthew loved dinosaurs! His favorite blanket had dinosaurs all over it. After Matthew was done opening all his gifts, Mom said she had a surprise to tell all of us, even Dad. She told us she was pregnant, and we were going to have another baby brother or sister. My dad gave my mom a kiss. My parents were very affectionate and weren't afraid to show it. We were a very happy family and always laughed a lot and played together.
Just six weeks after Matthew's first birthday, we took a trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota. My dad had always wanted to see Mount Rushmore, and now that we lived in South Dakota it was the perfect opportunity. We also got to go to Reptile Gardens. My favorite part was riding on the giant tortoise. Matthew loved all the different types of snakes. He was fascinated by them.
On our way back to the hotel, we picked up pizza. My favorite topping was pepperoni. Matthew had only cut a few teeth, and so Mom had to cut his into tiny pieces, so he didn't choke—but he loved pizza too.
We celebrated my birthday as soon as we got back home with cake and ice cream. I invited a few friends over for a sleepover. After I opened all my presents, we laid everyone’s sleeping bags, side-by-side, on the floor in the living room. We stayed up until midnight, painting our nails, doing our hair, and putting on makeup. Mom said we looked like clowns. My mom even let me put makeup on her too. I was so proud of myself. I don't think she liked it too much, but she laughed and knew I was having fun.
In March my other baby brother, Michael Alan, was born. He was much smaller than Matthew, only weighing four pounds and five ounces. He was born eight weeks early due to complications during my mom’s pregnancy.
Michael couldn't come home right away. So we visited him every day in the hospital for six weeks until he was strong enough to come home with us. It made Mom sad that he had to stay in the hospital, but I was too young to really understand what was going on at the time. When Michael finally came home, he cried all the time. Dad asked me to be on my best behavior and help out Mom as much as I could since she wasn't getting much sleep at night and had a lot on her plate.
Being just four years old, I was very confused by what my dad was trying to say, and so, responded by saying, “But Mom's sleeping; she doesn't have anything on her plate.”
My dad just chuckled, rubbed my head and replied, “What I meant sweetheart, is your mom has a lot to do and needs you to be a big girl and help her out, especially with Matthew. You've got to keep an eye on him and stay quiet so your mom can rest.”
“Okay, Daddy,” I replied. Dad leaned down on one knee, gave me a kiss on the cheek, then wrapped his arms around me in a big bear hug, stood up and swung me around as I giggled.
“I know you will sweetie, but Daddy's got to leave for work, so please remember our little talk.”
My dad left, and it was just the four of us. I really hoped that Michael wouldn't cry all day again—it hurt my ears.
I looked up to my father dearly. I was the typical Daddy’s Girl. My father could do no wrong in my eyes. I hoped one day to meet a man just like him, a prince charming to sweep me off my feet.
After Michael was born, Mom changed. She wasn't as happy anymore. She was tired all the time and didn't play with Matthew and me much anymore. So I tried to stay quiet and play with Matthew so Mom could tend to our baby brother who never seemed happy. All he did was sleep and cry. I used to ask Mom why he cried all the time, but she didn't know either. In fact, we had to go to the doctor a lot because Mom wanted to find out what was wrong with Michael and if he would ever stop crying. Then one day I overheard Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen while Matthew and I were playing with toys in the other room. I could hear my mom crying and my dad kept saying everything was going to be okay. It wasn't until months later that I found out what was wrong and why Mommy had been so sad and cried. Michael had been diagnosed with cancer. He had a tumor and was in pain all the time, which explained his constant crying. I didn't know how serious this was, or what it even meant. All I knew was that it was bad because it made Mom and Dad very sad and we had to go to the doctors all the time to make Michael better.
Michael had to stay in the hospital for a long time, and we visited him every day. The doctors told Mom that Michael would get better, and he wouldn't be in so much pain anymore, and I was hoping that meant he would stop crying too. I wanted us to be a happy family again, and that meant making my baby brother better. The doctors caught the cancer before it spread, and after Michael recovered from the surgery, he was able to be a normal kid, which meant no more crying, which made us all very happy.
After what happened to Michael, however, Mom and Dad were scared to have any more children. Even though Michael was all better, they still worried all the time. Anytime Michael showed the slightest hint of getting sick, my mom would rush him to the doctor to make sure it was nothing serious. She was in fact very paranoid, but every time the doctors would reassure her that he was okay and there was nothing to worry about. She was told he was just sick like any other kid and that she had to stop worrying so much. She was told he was healthy and the chances of a tumor coming back were very slim. But my mom still worried all the time, but I don't blame her. She didn't want anything bad happening to us; we were everything to her.
After Michael’s illness, I realized it taught me a very important concept that I desperately needed later in life. For instance, how adversity is overcome, how loved ones react, and how they pull together in difficult situations. The experience has tattooed my soul and I am all the stronger for the psychological trauma of afflictions that I would later in life come to suffer severely.
***
Finally, life was normal again. Mom didn't go to the doctor’s every time Michael coughed or sneezed or had a fever. She started treating him like Matthew and me, and we went on family trips again, laughed, and played together. We were a happy family again. That is, until I was seven, Matthew was four, and Michael three. Mom found out she was pregnant again and was scared because of what Michael had been through as a baby. She didn't want to go through that stress and heartache again, which made this pregnancy not a happy one like all the others—and she felt guilty that she wasn't happy but scared all the time.
Only a few weeks after finding out she was pregnant, it all turned for the worse. Dad was at work and the four of us were sitting on the couch together watching a movie, Michael sitting in Mom's lap. I remember because she almost threw him off her when she stood up, grabbed her stomach, and let out a bloodcurdling scream. I was horrified. I had no idea what was wrong with her. She ran into the kitchen and picked up the phone and called my dad at work and told him to hurry home because something was very wrong. After hanging up the phone, she slowly slid down the cabinets and sat on the floor. I ran to her to see if she was okay, and tears were streaming down her face while she held her belly. She told me to go back in the living room and watch the movie with my brothers. She said that she was going to be okay and that Dad was on his way home. I did as she told me but peeked around the corner when I saw her crawling to the bathroom on her hands and knees. She closed the door behind her, and I could hear her sobbing from the hallway. This made me very sad and scared.
