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Danny was stretched across the bed, in his underwear. Red rivers streamed from ugly gashes in his wrists. The blood trickled down the sides of the mattress, and pooled onto the floor. His skin was pale, only a few shades darker than the white sheets he lay upon.
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For a moment, I stood frozen in shock. I tried to move, to do something....anything....but my legs refused to cooperate. Jumbled thoughts ran through my head---"Maybe it is not too late....check his pulse....so much blood....too much blood....run away....just shut the door, and run away!"
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Finally, I drew in a deep breath, and crept to the side of the bed. I reached out with my fingers, gingerly touching the side of his neck. He still had a pulse, but it was weak. His eyelids fluttered open, and he gazed at me. I breathed a sigh of relief, combined with a small amount of resentment. This was a man I once loved like a son; then hated with a passion usually reserved for more tender emotions.
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"Michelle," he whispered, and reached his red stained hand toward my face.
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"It is me, Maria," I said, as I took a step back, avoiding his hand.
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"I see Michelle," he murmured dreamily. "She is waiting for me."
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I realized that he did not see me at all. In fact, I was sure he was not even aware of his surroundings. I ran to the door, and shouted for someone to call an ambulance.
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Mick came running up the stairs holding portable telephone to his ear. He stopped short when he saw his uncle's ravaged body. His face took on a ghastly pallor, and his hand released the phone; it fell to the floor, forgotten.
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Michelle was a step behind him. Her eyes grew wide, and she covered her mouth, suppressing a scream.
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I retrieved the discarded phone, and gave the operator directions to the lighthouse. She asked my to stay on the line while we waited for the ambulance.
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Danny stared at the ceiling, mumbling words of love to an unseen entity. His breathing was shallow, and his lips were turning blue. Finally, we heard sirens approaching the house, and I sent Michelle downstairs, to let the paramedics in.
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"Michelle," Danny whispered, almost imperceptibly. He gasped one last breath, and his eyes shut, welcoming his final slumber.
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"Noooo!" Mick screamed, and ran to his uncle's side. He shook Danny's lifeless body, in a vain attempt to revive him.
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I grabbed Mick's shoulder and pulled him away, just as the paramedics rushed into the room. They worked over Danny for what seemed like an eternity, but he was gone.
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Michelle held Mick in her arms, stroking his hair as he sobbed. He loved his uncle, and would be to only person to grieve over his loss. I had no words of consolation for him. Secretly, I was relieved that Danny was dead. He had caused nothing but pain in his miserable life, for himself and everyone who came in contact with him.
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An envelope on the dresser caught the corner of my eye. I picked it up, and traced the words scrawled across the front with my fingertip. They were in Danny's handwriting; it read, "For Mick." I quickly tucked it into my pocket, knowing it was not the time to present him with his uncle's suicide note.
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I ushered Mick and Michelle downstairs to wait for the coroner. There was no point remaining in that horrible room. Then I went in search of Dietz.
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Finally, I found him passed out on the beach, an empty whisky bottle rested by his side. I shook him violently. He groaned, and curled his body up in a fetal position.
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"Dietz! Wake up!" I shouted.
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Dietz reluctantly opened his eyes, looking confused. "Maria?" he muttered, rubbing his face with his hand. "Leave me alone."
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"Dietz! Pull yourself together!" I replied, and yanked him into a sitting position. "I need you to come back to the lighthouse. Danny has committed suicide!"
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"What?" Dietz asked, staring at me with disbelief.
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"He's dead!" I exclaimed. "Danny's dead!"
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A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Thank God," he whispered, more to himself, than to me.
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I was tempted to repeat Dietz's prayer, but I am a religious woman. I would not rejoice in someone's death, even that of my most hated enemy. Instead, I helped Dietz to his feet, and we walked back to the lighthouse.
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The coroner came, and carried Danny's body out wrapped in a black vinyl bag. I pulled Michelle aside, told her to pack a suitcase for Mick and herself, and ordered Dietz to do the same. I thought it best for them to spend the night in a hotel. The memories of the ordeal were still raw, and a change of scenery would help to heal them.
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At the hotel, I rented a large suite, and we settled into the room. Michelle sat with Mick on the sofa, cradling him in her arms. She spoke to him soothingly, as he wept for his uncle. Finally, he calmed a little, and wiped the tears from his eyes. Dietz excused himself, and went downstairs to the hotel bar---no doubt to celebrate, rather than grieve.
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We sat in silence; each of us lost in thought. I remembered the letter in my pocket, and handed it to Mick, explaining where I found it. His hands trembled as he took the envelope from me, and he held it for a few minutes, staring at his name on the front. Finally, he sighed deeply, and tore the edge, releasing the contents.
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Michelle and I watched him anxiously, as he read the letter. Tears swam in his eyes, and dropped onto the paper. Finally, he looked up, and a faint smile spread across his face. He returned the letter to me, and took Michelle's hand, pressing it to his chest. She reached out with her other hand, and lovingly caressed his cheek.
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"Read it aloud Maria," Mick said. "I want to hear the words spoken, just to be sure they are real."
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