Something inside me shouted to go home, but I ignored it.
"Dom, explain to me what you mean." I demand impatiently.
"Your father. Your father is the problem with you wife. Just like we thought."
I glare at his incompetence.
"I knew that already! Tell me something I don't know, or shut up until you know something I don't!"
Stumbling, he stutters over an inadequate answer.
I dismiss him angrily. I love Dom like a brother, but when it comes to Delphine and Apollo, his head is on the chopping block like everyone else's.
"Don!" Dom rushes in frantically. I furrow my brow.
What could he have found that quickly?
"It's Apollo," he says, handing me a phone.
Immediately I take it, knowing I told him only to call in emergencies.
"Are you okay, Apollo?"
I hear him crying, something he doesn't do often, if at all.
"What is it? What happened?"
"Ma-Mamma! I can't find Mamma!"
"What do you mean you can't find Mamma! She is supposed to be with you!"
I grab my keys, signaling Dom to take over.
"She-She told me she wasn't feeling well, and she went in her room to lay down and-"
"Did you check her room?"
"Yes!" He cried, distressed, "she wasn't there, but the bathroom was locked and water was everywhere and-Papá I'm scared!"
I hear myself say I know, my son, but I to my own ears, I sound underwater. A nostalgic numbness overtakes my senses.
I do not fear death, Husband. In fact, most days, I plead for it. You still don't scare me.
I plead for it.
I mash the accelerator.
Sam hovers over my wife's body, reminding me of the last time we found ourselves here.
My body shivers endlessly, the last hour playing out in my mind in torturous repeat.
I burst through the front door, calling for my son.
I hear his wails, reminding me of my own mothers death.
Of my own cries of distress.
But my Apollo will not go through that.
I am his father, and I am nothing like my sperm donor.
Besides, my Siren can't die.
She's simply too internally stubborn.
Even if she doesn't show it.
Following the trail of anguish I find a scene that will haunt me until he'll takes me in.
The floor is bathed in soft pink water, a metallic scent smothering the air.
My son is rocking back and forth, a thin film of water coating his body.
He looks up, his little face streaked with tears and yet full of relief.
"Daddy?" he lunges at me, and, blindly I catch him, clutching him to my chest.
My eyes are fixed on the rosy tinged carpeting.
Apollo sobs into my neck, his tears coating me, seeping horror into my skin.
"Daddy fix it! I want my Mommy!" he sniffles and blubbers nonsensically, my internal thoughts following suit.
"Fix my Mamma, Daddy! Make the bad people who hurt her go away!"
I nod, shushing him soothingly, rubbing his back as he hiccups.
I cannot tell him his Mamma did this to herself.
I can't tell him that he may lose his mother and the baby sister we never got to tell him he was having.
No, I couldn't do that.
All I could do was call Sam, and hope my wife would live long enough for me too punish her for this.
Apollo sleeps in my arms, his face contorting in pain ever so often, drawing a wince from me each time.
"Is my daughter okay?" I ask for the seventh time in the last two minutes.
"For now," Sam sighs for the seventh time.
I nod nervously.
I bore holes into the pallid skin of my unconscious wife.
I stare at her and pray.
Per favore, Dio. Per favore salva mia moglie e mia figlia.
A pained whisper, more like whimper escaped me.