Chapter 12: The Fatal Attack

The living room floor felt colder than it should have. Humphrey lay there on his back, eyes half-open, mouth slack, chest still. The steak knife he’d been holding when he collapsed had skittered under the couch. Sauce dripped from his plate onto the rug in slow red drops. No one moved for the first few seconds. Then the scream came,Mom’s, raw and broken.

“Humphrey!”

She dropped beside him, knees hitting hardwood hard enough I heard the thud. Hands shaking, she pressed them to his chest like she could push life back into him. “Wake up. Wake up, damn you.”

I was already on my knees next to her. CPR training from years ago kicked in automatically. Hands stacked over his sternum. Compressions. One, two, three… “Come on,” I muttered. “Come on.”

Robbinson was on the phone. “Yes,heart attack,adult,male,fifty-something,unresponsive,hurry.” His voice stayed calm, businessman smooth, but his free hand raked through his hair.

Susan stood frozen by the table,plate still in her hand,lilly grabbed her arm,and pulled her back a step. Their faces went pale,eyes wide.no tears yet.just shock.

Mom kept talking to him. Low and desperate. “You can’t do this. Not now. Not like this.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t look at me and didn’t look at anyone. Just him.

I kept pumping,sweat ran into my eyes,my arms burned. Thirty compressions,and two breaths. His lips were cold against mine, still no response.

Sirens wailed closer,Finally.

Paramedics burst through the front door. Two men, one woman. Bags clattering. “Move back.”

I scrambled away. Mom didn’t. One of the medics gently pulled her aside. She fought for a second, then let go. Slumped against the wall.

They worked fast. Defibrillator pads. “Clear.” Shock. My body jerked. Nothing. Again. Nothing. CPR continued. IV line. Meds pushed. Radio crackling. “Asystole… no rhythm…”

I stood there useless,watching strangers try to bring back the man who raised me. The man who wasn’t my father. The man who’d abused his own granddaughters. The man whose last word to me had been “sorry.”

They loaded him onto the stretcher. Straps tight. Oxygen mask. Mom followed them out, clutching her phone like a lifeline. “I’m coming with him.”

Robbinson nodded. “I’ll drive you.”

The girls stayed behind. Susan sank onto the couch. Lilly paced. I locked eyes with them for a second. Something passed there,relief? Guilt? Fear? Hard to read.

I followed the ambulance in my car. Lights flashing red and blue across the dashboard. Rain started halfway to the hospital,wipers thumping,radio off, just the sound of my breathing and the engine.

Emergency room doors slid open,chaos,nurses shouting orders. Mom stood in the hallway, arms wrapped around herself. Robbinson beside her, hand on her shoulder,comforting and too familiar.

I walked up. Any words? She shook her head and didn’t speak.

We waited.Plastic chairs,bad coffee from a machine, fluorescent lights buzzing.

The doctor came out after forty minutes, face grim. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could,there was massive myocardial infarction.He didn’t respond to resuscitation.”

Mom made a sound like air leaking from a tire,and collapsed into Robbinson. He held her tight and I looked away.

No tears from me,not yet,just hollow.

We drove home in silence,rain heavier now,and streets slick. Mom in the back seat staring out the window. Robbinson driving my car. I sat shotgun,I felt like a stranger in my own life.

The house was dark when we pulled up. Susan and Lilly gone,probably walked home or called a ride. Lights are still on in the living room. Bloodstain on the rug,plate on the floor and sauce dried brown.

Mom walked straight past it upstairs. The door shut.

Robbinson lingered in the foyer. “I’ll stay if you need me.”I shook my head. “We’re good.”

He hesitated,looking at the stain. “He was a hard man. But he was family.” Was he? I thought. To me? To the girls? To Mom?

Robbinson left. The door clicked shut.

I stood there alone,stared at the spot where he’d fallen,guilt rolled in waves. I’d known about the girls. I heard the conversation and did nothing. Too busy with my own sins,fucking Ruby. The baby. The secrets.

I cleaned the rug best I could,scrubbed until my knuckles bled,Stain stayed,like everything else in this house.

The next morning Mom came down, with swollen eyes and blank face.

“We need to call people,” she said. Voice flat. “Arrange things.”

Funeral home,Church,Obituary,Flowers,Casket. Songs, Words.She moved through it mechanically. Made lists, called relatives. Voice steady on the phone and broke when she hung up.

Ruby called mid-afternoon. I answered in the garage,away from ears.

“I heard,” she said. Quiet. “I’m sorry.”

I leaned against the workbench. “Yeah.”

“How’s Annie?”

Distant,like always.

“I’ll come by tomorrow,for the wake, act normal.”

Normal. Right.

You okay? she asked.

No.

The baby’s fine and still kicking.

I closed my eyes. “Good.”

“I miss you.”

Guilt twisted sharper. Humphrey was dead , but here I was thinking about her body.

“See you tomorrow,” I said. Hung up.

That evening Mom sat at the kitchen table with a yellow legal pad. Funeral details. Guest list. Food. She looked up when I walked in.

“He wanted to be cremated,” she said. “No big service,just family.”

I nodded. She tapped the pen against the paper. “He left a note. In his study,I found it this morning.”

My stomach dropped. “What kind of note?”

An apology, to me, to the girls.Her voice stayed even. “Said he was ashamed,and he never meant to hurt anyone.

I swallowed. Did he… name names?

She shook her head. Vague. But enough.

Revelations were piling,one on top of the other. Humphrey’s abuse, Mom’s affair, My bloodline, Ruby’s pregnancy,The baby. All crashing together.

She looked at me then,really looked. “Richy… whatever you’re carrying… you don’t have to carry it alone.”

I almost told her,almost spilled everything.But I didn’t. “I’m fine,” I lied.

She nodded,and went back to her list.

Funeral preparations rolled on, Calls to the mortuary,Pick casket,Pick urn, Pick date. Friday. Three days away.

Relatives started arriving,Cousins,Aunts,Uncles. Awkward hugs. “So sorry.” “He was a good man.” Lies we all told.

Ruby came the next day in Black dress. Modest. Eyes red-rimmed,Feigned grief perfect,and Hugged Mom long. “I’m so sorry, Annie.”

Mom hugged back. “Thank you.”Ruby glanced at me once. Quick. Heat under the sorrow.

We didn’t speak alone,there were too many eyes,but when she left she brushed my hand. Whispered, “Tonight. My place,the back door.”

I went,I was addicted,I couldn’t stop myself.

The house was dark. She waited in the kitchen,pulled me upstairs,and the bed still smelled like him. We fucked quiet,and desperate,she was on top,tears on her cheeks. Mine too, maybe. Guilt and grief and lust twisted together.

Afterwards, she lay against me. “He knew something,” she whispered. “About us. I think.”

My heart stopped. “What?”

“Not sure, but he watched me funny last month, Asked questions.”

Revelations piling higher.I left before dawn,walked home through wet streets.

it's Funeral tomorrow,and every fucking thing is about to cracked wide open.