Chapter 82

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As you get the table set for breakfast on the morning of Christmas Eve Eve, you hear soft footsteps padding towards you and then quiet sniffling too. You turn around worried to see Luke standing there, rubbing his tired eyes with a few tears trailing down his cheeks.

"Oh Lukey!" You gasp and fall to your knees in front of him, resting your hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"Mum." He whimpers. "When's dad gonna come home?"

Your heart sinks. "I don't know baby, I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you more."

"But where is he? Has he been captured again? What if he's hurt or locked up?" He asks getting more upset.

"Okay." You sigh and look him right in the eyes trying not to get too worked up yourself. "I know as much as to say that he is okay and not in any real danger."

He looks at you confused. "How do you know?"

"Because he wrote me a letter just the other day telling me not to worry and that he's okay... bu that he doesn't know when he will be home," you explain.

"But why! I miss him so much!" Luke sobs.

"I know luke, so do I," you say weakly. "But he has a lot of things he needs to work through by himself and he said that he loves and misses us all very much and will see us again sometime."

"What if someone's just forcing him to say that? What if he really isn't alright?" He cries.

You pulls back and wipe his eyes. "We just can't afford to think like that son." You whisper and kiss his forehead.

"I just want him home for Christmas." He pouts.

"We all do." You sigh.

"Not Isla." He mumbles.

You huff. "I know. I don't know what to do about her. I'm just hoping that when he does come home it'll all work itself out."

He nods. "Me too. And I hope that's soon because I'm sick of all this bad luck."

You purse your lips gravely. "Me too."

You pull him in for another tight hug.

"But hey at least of got you through it all right?" You smile sadly into his hair.

"Mhm. I love you mum." He nods.

"I love you too baby." You whimper and kiss his head.

Time Skip to Christmas Eve:

All the kids went to bed at least an hour ago, too excited to get to sleep so that Santa would come. So now you've just been sitting in front of the warmth of the fire, dozing in the comfort of listening to the rain softly drumming on the roof. Especially with the occasional clap of thunder and streak of lightening there is something so soothing about being inside and safe in a storm like that.

Suddenly there is a loud thud that you would think was another rumble of thunder if it weren't so close and then followed by a groan and a small bout of shuffling. Your heart skips a beat. It's right outside your door. Someone is outside your house in a storm in the middle of the night. What if it's a serial killer?

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