Watch Your Step

T̸w̸i̸t̸c̸h̸ [ep. 9]

An excerpt in Hayward Daily:

"After day and night of violence, Celia decided she finally needed to flee to save her life. But she was confronted by Roderick Fletcher with his unregistered 9 mm Glock in his hand. 'He aimed it at me and tried to kill me,' Celia stated. Before her son came home, it was already out of control. His husband went on a rampage. Her sight became clouded as dark as the sky outside that evening when her son was shot and she knew she was the next one. It was to kill or be killed."

Celia could not contain her tears as she left the house defeated. If only her son knew what she's been through. She takes a drive which always clears her mind aside from smoking. As she reaches the end of the street, she sees the old man again holding an umbrella, and this time she asks if he needs a lift.

The old man smiles at her—no, he was already smiling—and gives her a nod. He is wearing a black suit and a bowler hat and Celia thinks he resembles someone. She smiles back and lets him open the door in the front seat.

He removes his bowler hat and shakes his umbrella as if it were soaked by the rain as he settles beside her.

"How are you today?" he asks.

She looks at him as she revs the engine, "I'm good." But when she glances at the mirror the traces of tears are obvious.

"Just had a misunderstanding at home," she sniffles, "with my boy,"

"And where is he now?" the old man asks.

"Hmm?"

"Your boy."

"He's back at the house."

"Oho," he coughs. "That's a very unsafe thing to do," he speaks in a gruff manner, "Leaving your son in that condition."

She replies with a fake smile. She is extremely reticent about her personal affairs.

"He needs you to be by his side more than ever..."

At that moment, Celia looks at him incredulously as if he knows what happened, then she holds the ocean in her eyes.

"...before it's too late."

"What do you mea—" she never gets to finish her question when the passenger ejaculates, "You can drop me off here." There is another lamp post, similar to the one at the corner of their street.

"Oh, okay," Celia sniffs and wipes her nose.

The old man waves his hand to her to pay his gratitude. Then she starts her engine again with a lighter disposition.

"He's right," she tells herself. She drives back to thank him too but he is gone, there is only the lamp post. So she buckled in her seat, drove as fast as she could back home to her son.

She understands what she needs to do.