It wasn't Walter who found Simon's body laying in a warm pool of blood. It was me. Sometimes I hated Walter for that . Other times I wished he'd found Simon first. I would have killed him much sooner if he had. 

 I knew  Simon  was dead. I knew it like a Mother knows when her child is lieing.  I knew it  by the way my spirit broke inside of me. I suppose the same pain felt by other Mother's who have lost their child also.  Still I ran to the bathroom grabbed a towel and began to clean Simon up.  There was no more blood to run out of his body, the floor was scarlet red.  Cradeling his lifeless body on my lap, I began to wipe the blood splater from off his neck and his cheecks. I rocked him back and forth, just like  I did when he was a baby.  He was such a good baby. I told him I loved him, even though I knew he was dead.  I believed he could hear me, I believe he could feel me. A part of me died along with Simon.  A part of me was burried with him .  It brought me comfort to know that Simon knew I was with him. That I would never leave him.

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