“Gosh, I have to stop getting blood all over these hardwood floors…” Wanda mutters side stepping yet another puddle of the crimson liquid coating her kitchen floor. “One of these days I’ll have to stop being so messy.” She tsks setting a freshly baked pie on the counter the golden brown crust steaming with the most heavenly scent promising for a delicious dessert.

“Kendrick, come clean this floor!” She calls untying her apron and slipping off her oven mitts.

Footsteps descend on the stairs before her oldest stood in then kitchen doorway his curled hair back in braids and his dark eyes sweeping over the mess. In a split second he takes to the lower cabinets pulling out all the supplies he’ll need to rid the floor of the liquid.

“Tell me again why you don’t do all this in the garage?” He asks scrubbing at the floor “it would be less…mess in the kitchen.”

Wanda casts a sideways glance to the garage door half disgusted “it is dirty. It’ll contaminate my pie.”

“Mama.” He sighs.

“I’m serious it’s worse than your brothers room .” She deadpans “like cooking in a prison my pie would taste like ash.”

The boy shakes his head with a low chuckle and just continues to clean the two move in silence his mother washing the dishes the sink pooling with a reddish hue and tiny pieces of pink meat.

Wanda hums to herself as she dries the knives off slipping them into the wooden holders on the counter. When she’s done she wipes the counters down with the dish cloth and dries her hands turning to the counter narrowly missing Kendrick who’s now between the island and counter cleaning up the biggest puddle of all.

“You could at least not leave the bones down here,” he complains sitting back on his knees to pick the bones from the floor fingers dipping into the blood and staining them “I bet you put the rest in the trash didn’t you?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Wanda rolls her eyes, “and no I grinded them for your sister she said she could use them those were just leftovers.” She shrugs.

She motions to the fridge “I still have the organs if you want them—even the brain.” She adds before he can ask and he shoots her a wolfish grin popping one of the gripping bones into his mouth munching happily.

Then the impatient voice of her youngest comes from upstairs “Mama, is the pie done yet!?”

Wanda sighs grabbing a spatula to cut the pie “come get a piece!” She barely gets through the sentence before her baby boy flies down the stairs stopping before the counter like the roadrunner in that cartoon he loves so much.

“You are something else boy, here.”

“Thank you, mama!” He grins as he’s handed a plate and a fork with a evenly cut piece of pie layered in red a white and pink. His fork digs into the pie right away and he takes a considerable amount and shovels it into his mouth with a hum.

“Good?” Wanda asked.

He nods. “Good.”