Chapter Fifty-Three: Plan Bs?

Blood. He smells like blood. No, not just smells; he has blood on his clothes.

Closing my eyes and opening them, I focus on the bouncing bunny on the screen while Henry bobs his head to the tune.

Before long, his little head sways left and right before falling to my stomach as he was resting between my legs, and a soft snore follows.

Aww... how precious.

His little hands curl against the fabric of my clothes.

I should take him to bed; I think Christopher has eaten by now or should be eating, so there should be an interruption.

My hands move to scoop him up, but a voice stops me.

"Is there a reason you are both on the floor when there are perfectly suitable seats next to you?"

"Henry and I used to sit like this in the old house.”

I explain without turning back to him.

"Are you thinking of the good old times?”

His words seem pointed, so I lift Henry in my arms and turn to him with a frown.

"What is that supposed to mean?”

I ask, noticing the curls in his poorly dried hair.

Wait, wasn’t