𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 63

— Chapter 63 —
Reap What You Sow

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E L L I O T

Late in the afternoon, a paling sunset was the only light fluttering into my father's otherwise bleak and gloomy house.

My toes curled against cold timber flooring. Sitting on the ground a few paces from the couch, I had my arms wrapped around the knees I'd pressed close to my chest. My spine was glued to the wall. My chin trembled, my lips pursed, my hair fell over my eyes. Dread pulsed in my veins to the rhythm of a fist pounding against the other side of the front door.

"It's me," a voice called. "Elliot, please—just open up."

Noah continued to beat away at splintered wood.

I thought the hinges would come loose if he kept going. He'd been at it for a little while now. I still hadn't found it in myself to face him.

"I know what happened," he told me, and a sound followed which I assumed was his forehead hitting the door. For a few moments, the banging stopped. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it wasn't your fault. Please just let me in."

He started hitting the door again just as my father was emerging from the hallway, half-dressed in boxer briefs, calf-length socks and a thin singlet. "Christ's sake," he muttered, rubbing his dark eyelids. "The nerve of this bastard."

My teeth sank into my lip as he stopped to look through the peephole.

Annoyed, he asked me, "You gonna answer it?"

I kept my gaze trained on the dry flooring, my mouth pressed firmly shut. I didn't know what to say—I didn't know if I could speak without pain firing through my jaw. I'd been holding an ice pack to it for the last half hour.

Malcom mussed his hair and stepped away from the door. Noah's heavy knocking, though sporadic, seemed to have slowed.

My father gave me a look.

"You can give me the silent treatment all you want but one of us has to go out there eventually." Quieter, he made sure to snicker, "If I do it, it'll be with a shotgun."

I didn't believe him. I wasn't going to say that out loud, though. Not if it would cause a fight. Not if it would give me more bruises that I didn't need.

The Stray Dog called for me again. "Elliot, just open the door. Please."

I don't know what to say to you. I don't want you to see me like this. I was trying to pick through the myriad of responses my mind was conjuring. It's safer for us both if you keep your distance.

Walking off to the kitchen somewhere, Malcom scratched his face and grumbled.

"Goddamn millennials."

Noah never left that night. I never got up off the floor. I listened to him knock and knock, and when he couldn't knock anymore, he collapsed against his side of the door and smoked. I could smell it from where I was sitting. And he just... spoke to me.

Whether he knew I was listening or not, Noah talked to me. Quiet apologies mostly, but a few ramblings on his trains of thought here and there, some about his time in New York. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose—if he was doing his best to keep me company because he knew I'd be lonely in the unforgiving silence of my own house.