Roy’s been drifting in and out of consciousness for a bit now. Some random memory will float into his dopey little head, and he’ll giggle to himself, or in the case of that last memory-- shooting Donna full of arrows to ‘protect’ his wife-- startle awake a little.
Now that he thinks of it, Chesh tends to ruin everything. Who ever told her to have a kid, anyway? Sure, he loves Lian, but he didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a kid when Lian first fell into his lap. And as always, there was Donna to make everything better. How to change a diaper? Call Donna. Four in the morning and the kid won’t stop screaming? Call Donna. Swallowed… something small and odd-looking? Call 911, then call Donna.
With a drowsy giggle, he remembers the first fever that wouldn’t break. Two days of screaming and Lian chewing the crap out of her hand… he couldn’t sleep, she refused to, and he was losing hair. He’d called Donna in a panic and spent the several minutes before her arrival pacing by the front door with Lian in his arms, trying every lullaby he could think of. Why didn’t they make tranqs for kids?