Chapter 7

Henry Irons looked over the empty room; the neatly made bed, the clean floor, not a speck of anything out of place. Another moment, then he stomped through the room and into the bathroom where he shoved open the door to find more of nothing. Back into the bedroom where he ripped off the bedspread and the sheets below, roaring as he pulled the mattress off the frame and threw it to the side.

In the center of the room he saw himself from the corner of his eye in the mirror which connected to the oak desk. Without a second thought he turned his feet and threw a stiff right punch into the glass, shattering the mirror along with the flesh of his knuckles. The blood was pouring out from his hand as he raged:

“Maybella!”

When there was only silence he roared again, “Maybella!”