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Chapter Fifty - Neil

Knock knock knock.

My limbs flinch at the sound, stirring me awake slightly.

I haven't heard something like that for a while, and I can't believe that I haven't noticed.

But that's not what is so distracting, it's the fact that there are no streetlights anywhere near my house, and yet a warm yellow beam dances about our bedroom unnatural to a passing car.

I sigh and unfold our bodies while Esther is still sound asleep, not bothering to throw on a shirt or sweats.

This isn't real.

Since returning from Will's birthday trip last week, work has exhausted her so easily that she just comes home and gets ready for bed.

No motivation.

No color.

No enthusiasm.

Not Esther.

She's in a downward spiral of something I've pretended to be well versed in—

Grief.

I let her sleep as I get up to investigate this stray source of light while the cool air wraps around my nearly naked body, the wood isn't any warmer on the soles of my feet when I get to the main floor.

Knock knock knock.

I pause mid-step, holding my breath as I watch the light peer inside the bay windows of the dining room.

Fuck.

Maybe I should have gotten dressed.

I go stiff as wrought iron, attempting to control my worrying breaths.

I'm not prepared for a home invasion.

Thinking about the safeguard of everyone under my roof is a weight right around my neck, an instant ache I didn't have mere seconds ago.

I'm not concerned for myself, but Clenna and Adam are here, and my Esther is upstairs.

'They're gone.'

That's right, they took a few days to themselves after we came home with the upsetting news.

That just leaves–

"Auntie Esther?" A little voice calls out.

What the hell?

I hesitate, then take the remaining steps to the front door and rip it open after coming to the realization that this wasn't in my head or some criminal.

"Will? Get in here, Jesus Christ," I say as calmly as possible as I lead him in by his shoulder.

He has his coat over his pyjamas and his house slippers on, nothing else in his possession but a flash light.

I bring him in and shut the door, locking everything again as routinely as possible.

There have been very few times in my life that I have been genuinely scared.

And right now was of those moments.

I can't panic in front of him because it'll freak him out.

"What are you doing here?" I ask calmly.

"I walked here."

"That's not what I– you know what? Come with me."

The only rational thing I could come up with was to lead him to the kitchen, turn on the dim stove lights, and begin some water for the two of us.

After I put the pot on the gas burner, I turn to him as he makes himself comfortable at the granite island.

I lean against it on my elbows, hands folded in front of me.