My first story to be posted here. Only kinda ABDL, but more to come.
One morning, I opened my eyes and found that my life had gone to hell.
“Oww…my head…” I groaned, rolling out of bed and landing in a crumple of blankets as I cracked my eyes open. Unbearably bright morning sunlight shone where I had been sleeping, which was probably the reason why I had awoken in the first place. Shielding my eyes from the infernal glare, I attempted to extricate myself from the mess that I had landed in, but collapsed again onto the floor as another party of evil little dwarves jumped in my brain.
“Owww….” I groaned again.
Eventually, I managed to get up, close the blessed curtains, stumble to my bathroom and chuck my head over the toilet bowl before everything I had eaten the night before came rushing out.
I maintained the position for awhile, before standing up and looking directly in the eyes of the stranger in my mirror, which I had hung over the sink.
“You, Alex, are totally screwed up.” I muttered at the stranger. The bloodshot-eyed, squinting and marginally green-faced figure’s mouth moved with my words.
“Yeah, mock me, don’t you…” I grumbled, giving my reflection a glare. I flushed the toilet before remembering that I still had to use it for it’s intended purpose. Oh well, just more water gone down the drain.
Heh, water gone down the drain. Nice one, like something Shane would say.
I groaned for what seemed the millionth time this morning, as another flood of bile came rumbling up from my bowels, and I bent over the toilet bowl again.
Twenty minutes later, I had managed to wash my face, perform my morning ablutions and was in the kitchen waiting for my coffee percolator to finish, well, percolating. And in the meantime, I was thinking.
I couldn’t really remember what had happened the night before. There was a lot of drinking, and me, Don, and some of Shane’s and Jessilyn’s good friends had shown up.
There had been a lot of tears, a lot of stories, a lot of reminiscing.
The only part I remember about my trip home was Don’s wife and several other women storming into the bar, grabbing and screaming invective at us before dragging us out. Next thing I knew, I was somehow at home being assisted into bed by some gentle hands.
Dammit. I must have been wasted.
Well, I did have good cause.
Damn damn damn damn damn.
Just thinking about it almost made me cry again.
The coffee began to drip into my waiting mug, thankfully breaking my train of thought. I waited till the flow trickled and stopped, before removing the filter and throwing it into the trash. I added milk and sugar, before taking the mug and sitting down on my rocking chair on my porch.
Sipping the morning elixir, staring at the street outside my house and the cars passing by, I began to think again
Just my luck to have had been on duty, as well to have been the senior investigator on the scene.
I still remember the call, three days ago.
[i]“Sir,” Brandon, one of my investigators, poked his head into my office. “Vehicle accident, big one, occurred 9 minutes ago. Fifth Canossian Street and Third Main. seven cars, one truck, two motorbikes. Probable fatalities. ER is proceeding, team is assembling.”
“Thanks, be out in two. Get the team prepped. I’ll inform Boss.” I instructed him as I quickly began to shut down my laptop. I picked out my receiver and speed-dialled ‘1’. The person on the other end, my Boss, picked up and I briefed him on the situation.
“Ugly. Go ahead, I’ll meet you there in twenty-five, if traffic allows.”
“Roger, boss.” I grabbed my jacket, pistol and radio and left the office, locking it behind me. I arrived outside the building just as the squad cars pulled up, got in quickly and told the driver “Move it.”
The car took off in a squeal of tires. The moment we left the carpark, sirens began to blare.
Twelve minutes later, I arrived on the scene.
It was bad, I could tell, even as I stepped out of the squad car. The road was slippery from the rain, shining wetly in the spotlights. The accident had blocked three out of four lanes of a fairly major traffic junction, and traffic was moving at a crawl around the obstacle.
Someone in a uniform came over. “Senior Inspector Alexander?”
“I’m Inspector Daniel. This way, please.”
On the way, Daniel briefed me on the incident.
A truck driver hadn’t noticed the lights change until too late. He had slammed on the brakes, but the truck skidded, causing it to topple and slide across the junction, right into the path of accelerating traffic.
“We have had multiple fatailities,” he commented as he brought me over to seven bodies draped in white. An eighth was being wheeled over, as I could see.
Daniel flipped back the first one. “The truck driver. We’ve taken blood samples for testing, and are trying to pull his name. No ID, though, possibly an II.” He flipped back the sheet.
I went down the row, flipping back sheets and looking at faces.
The third one stopped me cold in my tracks.
There, her eyes closed, peacefully, as if he was sleeping, lay my brother-in-law. No blood, no wound, was visible on his mustached face, but nevertheless, he lay there, cold and unfeeling.
I staggered back. “Shane?” I whispered in disbelief. Daniel came over.
“You know this guy?” He asked.
“My brother-in-law.” I gasped, stunned. “Jess!” I ran down the row, flipping back sheets, until I got to the eighth body, that had just been wheeled in.
Jess lay there, in repose, with a peaceful expression on what was left of her face. Which wasn’t much.
Half her face had been caved in and covered with blood.
The paramedic came over to me, putting a hand around my shoulder.
“She was in the car which the truck struck,” he explained gently.
Inspector Daniel came over just as I turned around, gagged, and rushed off to the bushes to vomit. I stood there, shaking, for almost ten minutes before I felt someone come up behind me and put a fatherly hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see my boss, Assistant Chief Patrick O’Shallagan was standing there with a sympathetic look on his face.
“Go home, son. I’ll take it from here.”[/i]
I was broken out of my reverie by my handphone, which flashed a reminder: 1300HRS FUNERAL CHURCH OF THE RISEN KING.
It was 1015 hrs. I went back into my house and got ready for the drive to the church.
I reached the church at 1142 hrs, making my way in early. While the funeral was only due to start at 1600 hrs, I was meant to be there early to assist in preparations. I got there even earlier than I expected.
The Pastor met me and shook my hand. “My condolences, brother Alex,” he said, his expression conveying sympathy. “Though, by God’s grace, they are in a better place, it is never easy on us who are left behind.”
“Thank you, Pastor.” I had known Reverend Oakes for over a decade and knew he was being sincere, offering comfort as best as he could. I swallowed tears. “May I view the caskets beforehand?”
“Of course. Right this way.”
I was led to the front of the church, where a pair of covered coffins draped in lilies and chrysanthemums lay. Reverend Oakes pulled back the wooden panel covering their faces and I stared down at the serene faces of my sister and her husband.
My late sister and her late husband.
“Jessy,” I whispered softly, placing one hand on the glass above her face. “Rest well. I will take care Claire and Chloe, and raise them as best as I can. Go, and we will meet someday, on those blessed shores.”
I turned back and walked back up the aisle, towards the washrooms at the back of the church, tears streaming freely down my eyes.
Over time, flowers kept coming, until they covered the entire front of the pulpit and had to be displayed outside. At about 1255 hrs, my brother came in, leading his wife and three boys. Two girls, holding each other’s hand, looking lost and alone, followed a short distance behind them.
“Hey,” I went up and greeted Donald, or Don, as he was more commonly known.
I hugged him and kissed his wife, Sharon, who was red-eyed, although she had concealed it well with makeup. I then knelt down and opened my arms wide, and the two little girls flew into my embrace, sobbing all the while.
“Hey, Chloe, Claire. I know how you’re feeling, dears, I know…” The two girls, seven and four respectively, both clung to me, refusing to let go of my shirt. I picked them up and sat down on a pew with them on my lap.
“Why don’t you go and see them first,” I suggested to Don. “The caterers are coming at about 1.30 pm. I’ll stay here and handle the kids. Come on, boys,” I said to them. “Your mommy and daddy have to do something.”
“Let the boys see, they’re old enough to know,” Sharon said. Her three sons followed their father as she sat down next to me.
“So, are you ready?” She asked me without any preamble. We had discussed our feelings over this too many times already, and each knew how the other felt.
“As I’m ever going to be,” I replied. I shifted the weight of the girls a little. “How’ve they been taking it?”
“Badly.” she sighed. “But what do you expect? I mean…”
There was silence for awhile, then
“Most of their things are in my car. I’ll transfer them to yours later.”
“I assume that their room is ready?”
“Well…kinda. I decided to have them sleep in the same room as me so I can reassure them if needed. Besides, i realised that I had no place to put the junk I had in that room”
“Packrat,” she accused me, smiling gently. The smile disappeared off her face as she hesitated. “I should warn you,” she began, then stopped.
“What, the English teacher lost her tongue?” I gently teased. She rolled her eyes.
“Idiot. No, I’m trying to think of how to put it. You know Claire’s nighttime problems, right?” She asked.
“Yes, what about it?”
“Well, now both of them have it, and not only at night. Its been going on over the past few days.”
I blinked and stared at Sharon like she’d grown horns.
“Language!” she automatically snapped, before smiling sheepishly. “I know, I know. I talked to the psychiatrist, he said that this is one of the more common reactions for kids who have been through traumatic experiences. I’ve put both of them in diapers for the meantime, to prevent any accidents in public.”
What the hell?
I shifted a bit, lifted up the shirts and pulled down the jeans of both girls a little.
Yep, they were definitely wearing diapers. Which also explained the reason why Claire’s shorts felt so thick.
I looked at Sharon, who shrugged.
“Actually, Jonathan’s in one too. He was very upset when the news came in, and that night, poof!” She chuckled. “Next day, I was in the kitchen when he ran in crying with dripping pants. I put him into a diaper, too. Nick and Ray are alright, and I hope that they dont start, too. But Jon has always been quite close to Shane.”
“Well, is it just the small one, or the big one too?” A horrible thought struck me.
“Well, for Chloe it’s just the small one so far. Claire…well she made it to the toilet yesterday, but the day before that, she pooped while she was sleeping. So I don’t really know.”
“Well, I hope you brought enough to change them,” I commented.
“I did. Their bag’s in the car, though.”
“Well, can you get it? Cause I think this one,” and I jiggled the four-year old, “needs a change.”
“Sure.” She got up, then hesitated, peering closer at the two girls. Both of them had worn themselves out and were sleeping comfortably in my arms, breathing deeply, drained from their emotional storm.
“How you manage to do that, I can never figure out,” she marvelled. “Seems such a waste that you don’t have any of your own kids. You’d make a wonderful father.”
“Well, I am now,” I pointed out dryly.
Sharon’s expression immediately saddened and I kicked myself. “I know,” she said softly, before walking out of the church to her car.
I got up and, with some tricky maneuvering, managed to get Chloe to lie on the bench with her head on my lap. When I tried to put Claire down, however, she stirred and clung to me so tightly that I just let her continue to sleep on my shoulder.
Sharon came in and passed me a baby-blue bag. I opened it and noticed that it contained wipes, baby powder, bottles, a changing mat and all sorts of baby-related stuff. Luckily, I had done the tricky operation of caring for them before, and hence knew how to use all the equipment in the bag. I carefully unbuttoned Chloe’s jeans and pulled them down, checking her diaper. Yep, definitely wet, although I judged that it could hold another wetting or two. I pulled her pants back up and buttoned them, before checking Claire’s diaper.
Damn, that one was soaked. I thanked God that at least it wasn’t messy but as she still refused to let go of my shirt, even when sleeping, meant that I couldn’t change her. I looked around for assistance, but Sharon was taking her turn viewing the caskets together with Don, and the Reverend was talking to them. I didn’t think it politic to disturb them, so I was alone.
Well, what the heck. Time for some of The Amazing Alexander’s Legerdemain and Prestidigitation.
I carefully placed Claire on the wooden pew, grabbing a towel from the bag, and, in one smooth maneuver, substituted my shirt for the towel in her grabbing hands. She didn’t even stir, just grabbed the towel and pulled it towards her face.
Heh. I’m good, sometimes.
My little voice whispered “Dude, its just a four-year old kid.”
I told it to shut up and not ruin my feel-good moment.
I pulled out the changing mat and a new diaper, plus wipes, and pulled down Claire’s pants. I untaped the soaking wet diaper from her, used the wipes and cleaned her off, before fastening the new diaper on. Throughout the procedure, she didn’t even stir a little. I pulled her pants back on and went to dispose of the used diaper. I heard the caterer pull up outside, so I went and began arrangements for the reception.
I was talking to some guests, who had arrived early, when I heard crying erupt inside the church.
Crap. Well, I’d better get used to it…
I excused myself from the couple that I had been talking to, Jess’s colleagues, and ran back inside.
As expected, I saw Chloe and Claire both sitting up, bleary-eyed. Claire was crying loudly, while her sister was rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sat up. I ran over and picked up Claire, who buried her face and sobs in my shirt.
“Morning, Chloe,” I said, sitting down next to her. Chloe snuggled up to me silently, her behaviour subdued.
“Good morning, Uncle Alex,” she whispered. I put my free arm around her shoulder.
“Come on, dear, is there anything wrong?” I asked, gently, before kicking myself in the head.
I’m also an idiot, sometimes.
“I want mommy,” she said, before tears began to run down her cheeks again.
Yep, totally an idiot.
“Dear,” I looked her in the eyes, meeting her brown irises with my own, “Chloe, your mommy and daddy are in heaven now, ok? You’ll be staying with Uncle Alex from today onwards. I know you’re sad,” I pulled her against me, and she again put her face against my shoulder, “I’m sad too.”
"I miss my mommy…."she cried, wailing now.
“I want mommy…” Claire, whose sobs had subsided, also began to cry again.
So there I was, sitting in the pew carrying two crying little girls, with my best shirt getting destroyed by mucus and tears, sitting and not knowing what I’d do once they moved in with me.
My life’s really going to hell.