Three children to care for, with no husband to help since the last Durden attack, Sally Murcello woke early to start a fire in the tiny wood stove, the only source of heat for the small, barely furnished apartment in the middle of Staten Island. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from crying, dark circles from working day after day with little to no sleep. She had a shit job sorting mail at the same post office her husband had worked for, and every day was a full time job just to get food on the table.

Her oldest, 7 year old Tommy, was smart as a whip, and tried to help as much as he could, doing little jobs around the house. The middle child, 5 year old Sarah, didn't really understand why things had changed, and cried for her Daddy often. The youngest, 2 year old Haley, was still toddling around, surprisingly level headed for a child of that age. She would sit quietly and play, with almost anything, even her own shadow, which helped a bit, although she did seem to sense her Momma's pain, tears flowing at times, but never a whimper.

Sally would have the sweet old lady next door watch the children when she left for work, offering her what she could for payment, and the lady would refuse every time. Little things like this kept Sally going, day to day, grasping onto what little good she could see left in the world, caring for her children, and attempting to keep some kind of stability in their lives.

It was less than a month before Christmas, and Sally would cry herself to sleep every night, wondering what else she could do, wanting nothing more than to give her children a few days of joy. She was scrimping and saving, barely getting by as it was, and that huge lump that seemed to take up permanent residence in the back of her throat, tearing the tears from her eyes constantly, wearing her down, was a constant reminder of her state of despair.

She had to miss work today, as the sweet old lady next door was visiting relatives out of town, and she couldn't find anyone else to watch the children on short notice. Of course, the children were overjoyed at being able to spend the whole day with their Momma, and she attempted to tidy up the house, with the help of Tommy, and spend some quality time with them, as that was the only silver lining she could see.

Mid afternoon, a soft knock was heard at the door. She was startled briefly, as she wasn't expecting visitors, but when she peered through the window, no one was seen. She barely saw the dark overcoat of a man's figure, heading back down the street. She unbolted the door, edging it open carefully, noticing a thick envelope had been wedged into the mail slot. She closed the door quickly, rebolting it and proceeded to wrestle the envelope free of the door.

She didn't see much on the outside of the envelope as she slumped into her seat at the small kitchen table. The children were silent, watching with wide, curious eyes. Tears came to her eyes once again, as her mind played tricks on her. It could be much needed money, but who from? Who would possibly have that much to give away, let alone care what happened to her, or her children. She was almost afraid to open it, but finally, with her children huddled around closely, watching, she slipped the edge of the envelope open, seeing a note, firmly folded over the edge of the largest stack of bills she had ever seen.

The bullet that hit your husband was meant for Me. I know this does not begin to make up for your great loss, but I feel it necessary to provide recompense now. Enclosed is $50,000.00, with another $20,000 I will send every month. You will never want for anything again, as long as I live.

~Merry Christmas~

Christian-Grey