Tempest, Part 2: Birth of the Devil
Six months had passed since the attack on Ray and Lily. Ray had spent all that time in a coma, showing no signs of waking. No trace of Lily had ever been found. Over those six months, Amy had transformed from a cheerful woman with a playful nature into a shadow — into someone who simply existed.
The police didn't have a single lead. Amy still believed her son would wake, but she didn't know how he would survive it. She knew he was strong, but everyone has a limit.
The fact that not even a hint of Lily's trail had been found in six months boded nothing good. Along with her daughter-in-law, her granddaughters had disappeared too. There was almost no hope left of finding them. During the time they had known each other, the girl had become like a daughter to Amy.
Only a fragile faith in Ray's awakening kept her from madness. And after they took Violetta from her, the woman began to drink. This bred a self-hatred within her. She had always despised alcoholics, and now she had become one of them.
Now, her occupation was tending to her son's body. Only this duty, and the thought that if he woke up, he would find himself completely alone, kept her among the living.
Suddenly, Ray's eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes. He could see nothing; an attempt to say something resulted only in a terrifying, inarticulate wheeze.
Quickly pulling herself together, Amy said, agitated:
"I'll get the doctor."
After a few minutes, which stretched agonizingly long for Ray, he heard a calm voice:
"My name is Tucker. Can you hear me? If yes, nod. If you can't, just blink twice."
A pause.
"If I understand correctly, you cannot speak and have completely lost your sight. That's no surprise. I don't know if you remember, but you were shot in the head. The fact that you are alive is already a miracle. I think the gods are very fond of you."
Ray was an atheist and would have readily argued this assertion. If gods did exist, he was definitely not among their favorites. Yes, he remembered everything. The sound of that gunshot still rang in his ears. The last thing he had seen was the terror-filled gaze of his beloved. More than anything, he wanted to know what had happened to Lily and the children, but any attempt to speak only forced a rasp from his throat.
Furthermore, Ray realized he couldn't feel his legs. But right now, fear for his beloved and the children eclipsed everything.
"You also have paralysis of the lower limbs," the doctor's voice was filled with unfeigned pity.
Ray also caught the quiet sobs of his mother, but personally, that no longer mattered to him.
"You were in a coma for six months. Your mother and the medical staff did everything possible, but the speed of your recovery now depends solely on your body."
Six months. The fact that Lily wasn't here could only mean two things: either she was now with the children, or she had never been found. Ray desperately didn't want to believe the latter.
As if reading his thoughts, Amy whispered:
"After the attack… no traces. Neither the attackers nor Lily were found."
Finishing, she pressed her son's head to her chest.
Ray was surprised by how clear his mind remained after six months in a coma. But right now, a part of him regretted that clarity. Six months had already passed.
The probability of the police finding anything — even a body — was less than zero. Any leads had dissolved by now. Even if by some miracle he found out who did this, in his current state he couldn't even take revenge.
The realization of all this burst out: tears rolled from Ray's eyes. Neither he nor Amy could remember the last time he had cried.