"What is wrong with you?" He clutched his face.
Mom stared at him.
"That slap," she said, "was for Lori's grandpa and grandma."
Dad's eyes went red.
He grabbed Mom by the collar.
"Say that again."
The door burst open. A woman rushed in.
She had a paring knife in her hand.
"This is all your fault!" she screamed.
The blade swung wildly back and forth.
Dad moved to stop her.
"Don't do anything stupid!"
In the chaos, the knife thrust forward.
Straight into Mom's chest.
Mom looked down.
Blood seeped through, staining her white T-shirt crimson.
She slid to the floor, slowly, and Dad caught her.
"Selma?"
Mom didn't answer.
Her eyes were still open.
Dad panicked.
He pressed his hand over the wound. Blood surged through the gaps between his fingers.
"Call an ambulance!" he screamed at the woman.
The woman dropped the knife and collapsed to the floor.
Dad held Mom, his hands shaking violently.
"Wake up," his voice cracked, "I won't go through with the divorce, I won't—"
