Inside The Mind Of A Killer

Chapter 5: Grandmas Are The Best, Aren't They?

"Hello?”

“Hey, Noah,” I say, not exactly sure what to go off with. I lightly and slowly tap my fingers on the soft yet stiff fabric of my jeans– index first, then middle, ring, and pinky last. “I just wanted to check to see how you’re doing. Are you feeling any better?”

I sense hesitation in Noah’s voice as he stammers out a quick, “Er, not really. I must have a stomach bug or something.”

I reach my previously drumming hand towards my neck and scratch the back of it. “I’m sorry to hear that. When do you think you’ll come back to school?”

“I’m not sure yet. You can never predict how long a sickness will last.” I trusted that logic. “I’ll need to rest, though, so would it be alright if I was left alone for a little while?”

“Y–Yeah, of course,” I promise him.

“Thanks.” Noah pauses, then ends the conversation with, “Bye.”

Before I can say anything else, Noah hangs up the phone. I stand awkwardly in front of my dresser for a few minutes before sighing quietly to myself. I shouldn’t be surprised at the way Noah’s behaving, considering recent events, but he’s usually open to talking to me about these things. That’s just the kind of person he is. While I’m not entirely sure what’s going on with him, I hope he’ll talk to me soon. He’s starting to worry me.

I jump at the sound of my bedroom door squeaking, indicating that someone is here to see me. I turn my head and visibly grimace at the sight of Brandon, who’s just as indifferent as ever.

“Grandma’s here to see you,” he says. His hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his basketball shorts. “She’s upstairs with Mom.”

I’m surprised for a moment, but I soon comply and pass my brother as I make my way upstairs. I hear faint chattering coming from the dining room. I feel a nervous pit in my stomach as I approach my female family members, having not a clue of how to go about this. I’m not exactly in the mood to talk a whole lot.

A short and stout woman with silver-grey hair pulled up in a bun is sitting on one of the several wooden chairs in the dining room, chatting with Mom. She's holding a long, yet small box, but I can't tell what it's for. As soon as I make my appearance known, the woman turns to me with a wide and excited smile on her face. She stands up almost immediately after noticing me.

"Caleb!" The woman welcomes me with warm arms as she wraps me up in a hug– after setting down the box, of course. "How are you, dear?"

Michelle Marsh– my grandmother and my dad's mother. She and I go way back. She used to babysit me and Brandon when we were younger, but then we got older. Luckily, she still visits because she loves us very much. Despite my urge to hide out in my room forever, I'm actually quite happy she decided to visit. I really missed her.

"Not that good," I reply honestly. I've learned that it's never a good idea to lie to Ma Michelle because she'll always find out about it anyway. Besides, she's not all that judgemental, so I'm not scared to tell her the truth.

"I heard about what happened and I came here to see how you were doing," Ma Michelle explains as she pulls me out of her grandma bear hug. Worry creases her wrinkled forehead. "My, you look just awful! I'm so sorry you have to go through this again."

Again? What does she mean by again? I raise an eyebrow with confusion written all over my face.

Ma Michelle snatches the box she brought from top of the dining room table and holds it up for me to see. "I brought you some of your favorite cereal, if that'll help any."