Vincent had seen it all. The fall, the attack, the drowning. It had all happened so quickly, a blur really. One second the kid was there, and the next . . . he was gone. The river had swallowed him whole.
Why though? Why would someone do such a thing? Why would they steal such innocence? He was a child. A freaking baby!

Vincent shook his head. If only they knew . . . if only he could reveal the truth. The real truth, not the garbage in the newspapers or the baloney on the television. Just truthfulness and honesty. Nothing more, nothing less. But if Vincent spoke, if he uttered one single word, he could end up just like Jonathan. So he’d keep quiet, he’d play their little game. For now, that is.
***********************************

“Why’d you do it?”

Unable to look her husband in the face, Lisa turned away ashamed. “I-I don’t know, okay. It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“Yes, George, a mistake.”

Silence. Then: “Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Do you love him?”

“George-”

He silenced her with a wave of his hand. “Just answer my question.” Lisa could feel the intensity of his gaze.

“No, of course not, George.”

“Then prove it.” He slid Lisa his cell.

“Excuse me?”

“Call Stephen.”
***********************************

Tony Vinili stood back in the shadows, smoking a cigar, as he watched the young dancers gravitate towards the dance floor. Heathens he thought, every last one of them. Shaking and gyrating up against one another so provocatively, like that. They were practically having sex right in right in front of his eyes. Where was the respect? Tony shook his head, disgusted.
Unable to watch any longer, he grounded out his cigar, placed it behind his ear, and walked away. In need of a drink, Tony headed towards the bar. “What can I get you, old timer?” the cheerful bartender greeted him.
“I’ll have a double scotch,” Tony replied, settling into his seat comfortably.
“On the rocks?”
“I don’t drink it any other way.”
“Coming up.” Tony watched as the bartender did his thing. Couldn’t be too careful nowadays, people were crazy. “There you go, old timer,” The bartender slid over the drink.
Tony thanked him, eyeing the glass suspeciously for any contaminates. Paranoid customer that he was, he asked for a straw anyway. That earned him a strange look. “Oookay,” the bartender said, reaching down into his pocket to retrieve one. “Is that all?”

“I don’t know,” Tony frowned, “Is it?”
***********************************
“Is she going to be okay?”
“She’s going to be fine,” the doctor smiled, scribbling away on his clipboard. “You might want to give some space though.”
“Sure.” Stephen took a few steps back from the bed. “Anything else?”
“No,” he sighed, stealing a quick glance at the clock. “She’s due to awaken any second now.”
“So, what . . . we just wait?” Stephen felt helpless.
“Afraid so, Mr. Foster.”
But he wanted to something now. Anything! As long as whatever he did proved helpful to his wife. No, that wasn’t right, he had a girlfriend. Lisa, remember? Martha had divorced him more than six months ago. His marriage was over, and his son . . . well, his son was dead.