Chapter Text
Sal Fisher's main memory of his mother was red.
The bright, scarlet red of blood dripping from the gaping hole splitting his face and his mother's stomach.
If he dug deeper into his memory he could picture her warm smile, her soft blonde hair or her laugh that made Sal think of windchimes. But the taste of her insides on his lips always came first.
Before Diane died, Sal had never doubted that she would be okay. He could never picture her stuck in a hospital bed full of tubes and needles to keep her breathing, she seemed to radiate life in a way that breathed energy into the people around her, so how could she be anything but utterly healthy?
Besides, if Sal was okay, she would be too. Right?
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Travis Phelps' main memory of his mother was blue.
The soft, ocean blue halo around her face from the light shining through the stained glass windows of Phelps Ministry.
His memories of her always included a certain softness to them that seemed surreal. The feeling of her fingers trailing through his hair that had once looked so much like hers, the smell of sage that clung to her skin when she held him and the soothing tone of her voice as she whispered comforts to Travis after Kenneth had hit him for the first time.
Before Cholena died, Travis had always convinced himself that his father was merciful. Kenneth may have hit Travis and his sisters, but it was for their own good. He knew that. If he just behaved, things would be okay.
It got harder to convince himself after watching her die.