Down the line

3 - Box

I grab the scruffy book. It must have been dads and it was well used. I turn to the first page and begin to read. The handwriting wasn't the best but I could make it out ever so slightly.

17th October 2016

Sometimes I have little snippets in the day where I have the sudden thirst for alcohol. But I can't bring myself to do it, I went to Brittany to ask her about techniques to stop me from thinking this way. The only thing she suggested was writing a journal. I've never been good at writing but I said I'd give it a go, for Clem.

Today was Lee's first birthday. I couldn't believe it had been a year, I knew Clem was lying when she told me. But when I found one of our thousands of '2002' calendars I worked out she was correct. He keeps growing up and I don't understand how, it doesn't even seem possible. It only felt like yesterday when his fingernails were smaller than grains of rice. Now he just babbles some shit I don't understand but Clem thinks its 'cute' and that's all that really matters.

I never thought I would ever have a kid. My own flesh and blood. Little Lee was a mini me - Hey! That rhymes. I will write when I can or if something is bothering me. I just need to write my thoughts on paper sometimes, it helps.

I study the words on the paper. Blue ink. I never knew dad owned a diary and by the looks of it the book covered over 25 years of his life. I wanted to read the rest, but not here. Not today.

I place it in the box filled with memories. I look around the room again for anything else undamaged. There sitting on the top of the closet was moms hat. The hat she held so dear. She had only taken it off about 10 years ago because she wanted to grow her hair out. Other than that she pretty much wore it all the time.

I grab it off of the shelf, hopefully it would cheer mom up slightly to know her hat was still in the best condition it could possibly be in.

The hat was fraying and still had a disturbing amount of blood on the front, faded but still there. She had told me the story once of the famous Lee Everett. He sounded like an amazing man. I was glad he saved mom, if he didn't she wouldn't be here today and I wouldn't even be alive.

I hate how Lee took Mr.Everett's name. Lee would never live up to the name. I hope he sits and rots in prison for the rest of his sorry life. Unfortunately for me he would be out in 2 years.

I grabbed the box and headed out of the door and down the stairs where I saw Hendrix reading.

"Get everything you need?" He asks lifting his head away from the book for just a second. I look down at his belt...he had a gun.

"Why'd you have a gun?" I question whilst pointing to the holster around his hip.

"Danny gave it to me. Just in case our prisoners get a little out of hand." He explains. What the fuck?

"He didn't give you that order did he?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Yes he did else I wouldn't have a gun." He puts his book down.

"You won't ever need that gun." I growl. There was no way in hell he would ever need it. He was not going to be shooting Lee or Nick anytime soon.

"But what if..." He begins.

"Give it to me" I growl. He looks up at me and hands me the pistol whilst gulping.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal. Its just in case..." Hendrix begins to yap. I couldn't be bothered to listen to his drool.

"Look, you won't ever need a gun. We're not killing anyone else, you understand?" I shout, slightly pissed off at Danny's order.

"I understand." He repeats.

"Good. I'll be here on Monday to fetch Nick." I state and he just nods.

I knew he was getting it off with my sister. I could tell, although April would most likely fuck anything that moved. I loved my little sister but she was a little bitch when she wanted to be. She was never around, she only showed up the other day to say goodbye to dad because I gave her a huge speech. Otherwise I don't think she would have shown up.

Mom's forcing her to go to the funeral. If she didn't that would be mightily fucked up. But she would usually prefer to gossip with her teenage friends.

I was glad I had Kelly to go home to most days. I was glad I was going to marry the girl I loved, 3 years and still going strong. I was proud of that even though at the moment she was giving me time to grieve. I respected that. I loved the fact that she allowed me to be on my own for a little while. I needed to be with mom, without me she would probably be in an even darker place.

When I get back to mom’s house April was surprisingly there.

“What are you doing here?” I ask my sister as I set the box down by the couch hoping she didn’t question it too much. I would prefer to keep the photo album and my dads journal to myself. It sounds selfish but I knew it was the right thing to do.

“I just wanted to help mom with the dinner” She tells me.

“Yeah right, you just didn’t have any friends to go with tonight or eat with so you came here just to get fed. I know how your mind works.” I say, I knew everything I said was true. She just wanted mom to make her food and then she would be off again.

“That’s not true” She counters.

“It is, what did you do to your bitchy friends this time?” I sigh. April folds her arms and gives me a look.

“It’s kind of hard to keep friends when your brothers a psychopath, your cousins a rapist, one of your uncles is disabled and the other is a fucking tool. It’s even harder when your dad’s just died because he’s a fucking murderer.” She snarls. I instantly cup my hand over her mouth as I see my mom in the corner of my eye humming sadly as she chops vegetables.

“Do you want mom to hear you? Think about what you’re fucking saying before you speak.” I whisper to her angrily.

She stays silent as I snap. I walk into our kitchen and grab some plates for the meal.

“Thank you Lewis” My mom says quietly remaining eye contact on her chopping board.

“Whatever you need” I confirm and rub her shoulder before taking the plates over to the table. April was sat watching the television, the box sat beside her. I swear to God if she touched it I would go ballistic. The contents and memories of the box were for me to discuss with mom. I didn’t need her looking at it before hand.

We ate the meal in silence. I didn't mind, it gave me time to think as all I heard was my mom and sisters forks hit the plates. At least mom was eating, right?

Monday would be the funeral and I don't think she could handle that. I don't think I could either.