Jonetta (Ejaygirl) edited the characters of Land of the Noonday Sun Sunday, October 20, 2013.
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- Changed the section title:
- Edited the description of Diana:
(Georgia)“Walter,” his mother whispered as she opened his door. She hadn’t entered his bedroom in years. He cringed as he awaited more of her wrath. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, sitting down gracefully on the edge of his bed. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I hit you.”He puckered his lips and sniffed as he attempted to retain the tears. “It’s okay, Mom. It was my fault. Everything was my fault.”She sighed. She couldn’t deny the legitimacy of his words. “I love you, Walter, and I’m sorry for everything. Sorry I haven’t been a better mother, a better person. But I wanted to wish you goodnight.” She kissed him on the forehead and then left without another word, pulling the door closed behind her. She never apologized. Why would she start now? Especially when she wasn’t responsible.Walter rolled over, drew his legs in tight and repositioned himself into a ball. He wished he could change the past, wished he’d never returned, wished they’d locked him away forever. It was his fault; everything was his fault. He wished he’d never been born. Only fifteen and he’d already ruined his life.Hours later he heard his father creep into his bedroom, no doubt checking that he remained home as instructed.How could his father have worked after everything that happened? His way of retreating from reality, Walter imagined. His father had been a physician for years; he didn’t have to take after-hours emergency calls. He could have allowed one of his interns to take the midnight-calls. He owned the practice for God’s sake! As he thought about his father, anger replaced his tears. “Typical,” he muttered in disgust, exhaling in the dark room. Maybe his father was the reason their family was so deplorable. No. He needed to stop blaming others and accept responsibility for his actions.“Priscilla,” he heard his father’s peal of agony. “Priscilla, my God, No! Please don’t do this to me!”Walter bolted out of bed and sprinted down the hall toward his parents’ room. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest. His legs felt heavy and sluggish as if he was in a nightmare. “Dear God,” he prayed. “Please…”Rounding the corner of his parents’ doorway, he saw his father administering CPR on his mother.“Dad?” he choked out, his voice trembling. “Is Mom—” He couldn’t frame the word.“Call 911!” his father shrieked.Walter couldn’t move. His mother lay lifeless on their king-sized mattress, a bottle of whiskey on the nightstand alongside an empty bottle of prescription medication.“Walter, call 911!” his father belted again.He did as instructed but knew it wouldn’t make any difference. If his father couldn’t save her, nobody could.