LHM: Remy

 The following post contains spoilers for Lord Have Mercy Part III: Rising Sun, available now! Turn back now if you haven't read it yet, or grab a copy here:

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His eyes filled with stinging tears, and for a minute, despair threatened to drown him. He wished he was big, and strong, and knew what to do, like Daddy. That Daddy was here, and could punch Boyle so hard that his whole face caved in. But then Daddy would definitely go to jail, wouldn’t he? He wished he could punch Boyle so hard his face caved in; he wished Boyle was dead; he wished none of this had ever happened.

In that minute, while his tears dripped down his nose and disappeared against the cold, white floor below, he felt very small, and very young, and very helpless.

And then, just as the despair had come in a crushing tide, shame swept over him. What would Daddy do? What about Mama? Poppy? Grammy? Michael, and Walsh, and Uncle Aidan, and Tango, and…

The adults in his life would not cry, and give in, and lose all hope.

He thought of Mrs. Henderson’s class, from which he was being snatched; thought of weeks before, when they went around the room and named their favorite story.

He thought of Hansel and Gretel.

Of their breadcrumbs. 

Part Three is the first time we get one of the kids' POVs! This series is for adults, yes, but sometimes, I'm not opposed to using a child narrator if it's suitable, and it was downright necessary here. We've not seen the last of the batcrap crazy interior of Boyle's head, but in this installment, when it was all about the uncertainty and tension, Remy's POV felt appropriate. 

I've known for a long time who the youngest generation would grow up to be. Their professions, their eventual love matches, their adult personalities. Will I ever write their stories beyond the occasional blog ficlet? I don't know. But it felt a little like cheating to write Remy here knowing how he'll turn out down the road. 

He's a serious kid who's going to become a serious adult: smart, but quiet, thoughtful. He has all of Mercy's reflective nature without the clown persona to counterbalance it. This makes him an observant, rather than a panicky and emotional viewpoint character to write in this scenario. This is the sort of situation that can shape a person for life, and that's definitely going to be the case for Remy. 

Why is it so satisfying to write characters, and then turn around and write those characters' children? I don't know, but it is.