Chapter 1 - THE FORCED HASTE
Marcus moved through the commotion with a practiced, heavy stride, cutting across the crowded living room before anyone else could react. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the polished dark wood of the casket edge, ready to guide the heavy lid downward.
"Marcus, wait!" I snapped, stepping between him and the boy.
Marcus paused, his dark eyes flickering with a cold impatience that he tried to mask behind a veil of sorrowful exhaustion. "Sarah, please. It's late. The boy is exhausted, and the funeral director needs to lock the chapel before midnight. We can't let him sit here all night holding up the schedule."
"He's eight years old, and he just lost his mother," I shot back, my voice rising enough to draw the nervous attention of my mother and aunts. "He's not holding up a schedule. He's mourning."
"He's delusional," Marcus whispered fiercely, leaning down so only I could hear. "He’s repeating nonsense because of trauma. If you let him keep this up, he’s going to embed this morbid obsession into his head forever. Let's close it."
"No." I stood my ground, my posture blocking his path to the lid.
Leo didn't even look up at the argument. He simply reached out and adjusted the fold of Rachel’s collar, his small fingers tracing the fabric of that strange, stiff navy blue dress. The sight of it still bothered me. Rachel never wore navy blue. She called it "corporate mourning wear" and refused to own a single piece of it. Yet Marcus had practically forced it onto her body, claiming with uncharacteristic stubbornness that it was her favorite.
Across the room, my mother noticed the tension and hurried over, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
"Is everything alright?" Mom asked, looking anxiously between Marcus and me.
"Everything is fine, Helen," Marcus said, forcing a tight, pained smile onto his face. "I was just trying to gently explain to Sarah that we need to let Leo get some rest. He's been awake for fourteen hours straight."
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"I'm not tired," Leo said quietly, his voice cutting through the adult chatter with chilling clarity. He still hadn't blinked. "Mom said the sound would come right before midnight. We have to listen."
Marcus’s jaw tightened. A muscle twitched right beside his left eye—a tiny, involuntary tell that he was losing control of the room.
