11:55 p.m. Sunday, December 31
Sitting on the edge of his mother’s bed, Warner smelled the faint scent of smoke and heard a soft scuffle of feet. Turning, he discovered Lina standing behind him with a wintery glint in her eyes.
“What’re you doing in here?” Warner asked, startled.
“I brought Mama something to drink,” Lina said, smiling as she held out the partial glass of red wine.
“Oh, well, thanks, but she’s not awake yet,” Warner said in confusion. Taking the glass, he leaned over and set it on the bedside table.
When he straightened up, the back of his head exploded with a blinding flash of pain. Lurching forward from the blow, Warner bumped the side table. Deep red wine sloshed over the lip of the glass onto the surface.
“What the—!?”
Stunned, Warner turned toward the attack and lunged forward just as another blow from the champagne bottle struck him squarely on the jaw. Following a blast of shimmering stars, he was consumed by a numbing blackness and slid off the bed.
When Warner’s unconscious body folded onto the cold floor, Lina’s fingers relaxed and the bottle slipped from her clutches, falling first onto the man’s body, and then thudding onto the floor and rolling out of sight under the bed. In a burst of pent-up resentment, Lina stomped on Warner’s hand; a faint crack sounded before she kicked his arm away. Stepping over his motionless body, she smoothed out her orange-and-white dress, swiped at the blood stains where Luke had clutched at her, and tucked a few lose strands of auburn hair behind her ears, leaving red streaks on her cheeks.
Reaching over, she retrieved the wine glass and took a careful sip. Her face brightened like a child before she crawled onto the bed next to Sylvia. Lina’s eyes softened and she looked with fondness at the unconscious woman.
“Remember when you taught me to sing, Mama? We’d lie in bed for hours, get high together, and sing pretty….”
In a sweet soft voice, Lina began her favorite childhood melody:
I can’t offer you perfection,
cause I can’t promise to be true;
But I’ll never get to heaven,
cause I’m never leaving you…
Warmed by the wine, Lina drew her purse around before reclining to share the pillows with Sylvia. With a practiced ease, she removed her kit and placed the pink one-hitter between her lips. She ignited the marijuana with the ornate silver lighter. One last escape.
Snapping the lighter closed, Lina nestled up to Sylvia. The heart-shaped silver locket dangling around Lina’s bruised neck slipped to the side. Reaching up, she caressed the lighter and locket in one hand, happy to reunite her mother’s jewelry. Ignoring the sound of rustling coming from the front of the cabin, she lay back.
I forgive you Mama, but Holly’s gotta go….
Lina closed her eyes, took one final draw off the one-hitter, and pressed her hand firmly over Sylvia’s mouth and nose.