Chapter 3 - Christopher Sees The Horrible Reality
Footsteps echoed softly down the hardwood hallway as Christopher walked into the home office in his rumpled sleep pants.
He rubbed his tired eyes, looking down at me with a mixture of concern and lingering tension from the evening's ugly argument.
“Claire, why are you still awake at two in the morning? Come to bed,” Christopher whispered gently, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I didn't answer him verbally, instead lifting a trembling finger and pointing silently toward the frozen computer screen.
“Look at the video, Christopher,” I choked out, my voice breaking completely under the weight of my overwhelming remorse.
Christopher leaned over my shoulder, his gaze fixing on the paused frame where Mom’s blouse had pulled up during the kitchen emergency.
He stared at the medical appliance and the angry red scar for several long, silent seconds as color drained from his face.
“What... what is that?” Christopher muttered, his voice dropping to a harsh, disbelieving whisper.
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“It’s a colostomy bag,” I cried softly, covering my face with my shaking hands as the horrific truth sank in. “She had major surgery.”
Christopher stepped back, running both hands through his hair as absolute horror settled into his features.
