Supernova Souls - Ryan Upchurch

-22-

That night, he felt horrible, regardless of how good his day went with Delilah. His mind told him he was a piece of shit, a worthless shell of a man that had a too big heart that held love for a woman that didn't love him back. His heart, however, told him the opposite. It wanted to console him, to tell him he wasn't the problem and that he had people that did love him back.

He didn't really listen to either, though. He wanted to listen to his heart, and believe he wasn't the issue here, but the battle that was his mind and heart raged on and he was sure his head would win.

Almost painfully hot water shot from the shower head and down onto the miserably sad boy that was sitting in the corner of the tile floor. His head was turned just enough to keep the water from his nose- I'd be stupid to die drowning in your own shower sitting up, wouldn't it? He half-assed chucked at the thought. A dumb way to die, really.

His cheek pressed against the cold tile on the shower wall. The salty tears that stained little pale lines on his cheeks mixed with the hot water and it washed away his tears. The water didn't wash away the weight of the world he felt he carried on his shoulders, to his pure dismay.

Outside the bathroom door, Mary Jane was asleep with her back against the old wooden door, and the unnamed puppy was laying beside her with his nose on her paw.

Ryan stayed inside the shower for a while longer but eventually he exited and wrapped a towel around his waist. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink he barely recognized the redheaded man staring back at him.

Bags under his exhausted blue eyes, wet red curls falling down around his face carelessly, his face was red from the hot water as was the rest of his skin, and the whites of his eyes were more reddened than white by now from crying.

He never cried much, but when he did, you bet your ass it was for a good reason.

Getting your heart torn apart by the girl you've loved for years right in front of your own eyes is a pretty damn good reason to cry.

Outside the door, Waylon had begun to bark at what was probably a leaf falling from a tree in the yard. He tended to bark at nothing a lot, so Ryan ignored him and threw on a pair of pajama pants and dried off his hair the best he could.

Waylon's barking didn't let up however, and soon, distant rustling in the front yard soon accompanied his barks.

Then..

A gunshot.

Ryan froze. What the fuck?

He slowly pushed open the bathroom door with a low moan that came from the old hinges. He cursed the door inside his head, wishing he would stop forgetting to put WD-40 on the old things. The sounds outside slowed but didn't stop.

Leaves rustled and others met their demise-getting crunched beneath heavy boots. The wind blew, whistled and whined outside, the sound of it eerily close to a newborn baby's cries.

Ryan creeped up to the window in the living room, careful so that he didn't make a sound. He peeled back the curtains and slowly made a small hole in the blinds just big enough to see out of.

A black silhouette that was lined with silver from the moonlight was slowly moving through the shadows near the cattle. Something was in the ghostlike figure's hands, but he couldn't see what behind the cover of darkness. A knife? A gun? He didn't know.

With wide eyes, he let go of the blinds and the curtains and backed away. The wood floor creaked beneath his weight, and the curtains fluttered back into place like they were before he disturbed them.

He needed one of his guns, and the gun cabinet where they were kept wasn't far away, but the key to it was laying on the nightstand in his bedroom.

He didn't bother to turn on a light on his way to his room, he'd rather not alert whoever was in his yard of his presence. His plan was to catch the bastard off guard, not get himself caught off guard.

Snatching the key off the nightstand, he quickly made his way back to the living room and unlocked the custom gun cabinet and grabbed his favorite one, an old fully loaded  Colt 1911.

With his finger on the trigger, he made his way back to the window and peeled away the curtains and re-made the former hole in the blinds. Whoever was in the yard wasn't there now, though. It was like they disappeared into thin air without a trace.

In fact, there wasn't a single sign anybody was there in the first place.

He rubbed his eyes and sat his gun down.

Am I going insane?

Waylon sat down at his feet and whined at him. "No, buddy." He said. "Go pee on a pad, I don't know who that was or if they're still out there."

Waylon cocked his head to the side and stared at him, tongue hanging out of his mouth panting heavily like he usually did. A few seconds later though, and his eyes weren't on Ryan anymore.

The dog stared at something behind him, seemingly something outside the window, and he whimpered, ears pinned against his head.

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Authors note

I know there's been like 50 chapters recently that are basically ALLLLLL cliffhangers but it's just too perfect, I promise I won't leave them like this for very long.