John finished brushing his teeth. It was a long day and he was eager to get to bed. Lucy was already there, waiting for him.
He wore his favorite pajamas: the ones with the dark tartan pattern. He had good memories of that pattern. Memories of watching Saturday morning cartoons in little pajamas with just such a design, long, long ago.
No matter what had happened that week, he knew he could escape during those few, rare hours. He savored every minute, for he knew, afterward, the pain would start again.
“Good night, Mom,” said John.
Lucy was motionless. Lifeless.