Phillip wasn’t alive to witness the third explosion. Brenda would never truly know the moment her husband died. She told herself he was gone when the first bomb hit, praying he didn’t suffer, but she knew, in her heart, he was gone the moment he let go of her hand to lead the creatures away. Phillip wouldn’t want her to, but she blamed herself.

She could still feel his fingers slipping through hers as he pulled away. His terrified eyes and soft, uncertain smile lingered at the front of her mind. She painfully, unwillingly wondered if he knew he’d never see his family again, but either answer was too much to bear.

Instead, she replayed their last conversation, desperately searching for the sound of his voice--the right sound. No fear. No sorrow. She wanted his laugh, the way his words sounded when he smiled. What he did, he did for his family. Everything was always for his family. It was the reason she fell in love with him more and more everyday.

How would she tell Jackie? Her beloved daughter, the light of her life, enjoying her childhood with her friends. Her heart would break. What could Brenda do?

Phillip was gone. She had no choice but to move forward, to face the world as it was: broken.

As the building burned, black smoke exploding into the sky, she closed her eyes, letting tears stream down her face. She clung to the sound of Phillip’s voice, even as it threatened to fade within the bombs, chatter of people, and sirens. She’d fight to hold onto his voice for the rest of her life.