With One Touch [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 3

Joseph sat on his bed and looked around his bedroom. He gazed at the drawings of creatures that brought colour to the dirty white walls; he usually liked observing them, but at this point, he felt like they were laughing at and mocking him. The lone, white wolf howling at the crystal moon, calling for his pack, mocked his longing for companionship. The red-haired mermaid swam in the deep blue ocean, laughing at him as he sat silently; trapped in his home while she travelled the world. The gorilla hanging from a tree branch with one arm, releasing its amused cry as it showed off its strength and valour.

He lowered his head and scrunched his eyes. This time he was not so determined to hide his tears, he let a few run down his cheeks and mumbled to himself. "It's not my fault." He remarked, taking hold of the duvet and squeezing it. "I just want my dad back and my mum" he let go of the duvet and brought it to his lap, where he squeezed his leg and rubbed it with his other hand. "I want to be held again when I feel hurt and alone. I want to be loved by someone again."

The darkness began taking over the orange rays of light above the horizon, engulfing his room in a mist of gloom. He lifted his head and cocked it to peer outside, noticing the retreat of the sun and rise of the moon - the moon scared him more than any lonesome night in his empty room, for it symbolized the beginning of these very nightmares.

Joseph slowly lay down on his left side and watched the curtains move their feet to the wind's tune. Their improvised movement entranced him, although it reminded him of the outside world of which his father was in but he was not.

He scanned the drawings around his room again. The glow of the moon made the pencil markings shine slightly, showing the evil inside the drawings and causing Joseph to hide away. He curled his legs under the covers and pulled the duvet close to his face, the shadows sucking out the light from his green eyes. He was almost comfortable until he felt something touch his feet; he let out a small whimper.

A breath of relief escaped his lips as he looked for the toe tickler - Echo, the cat. The black feline stretched its paws and let out a tired groan; it then licked its lips and stared at Joe with eyes of contempt, before closing the blue and green eyes in admiration and crawling towards the boy. He rubbed Joseph's bare feet as he moved closer; he left a smudge of wetness from his nose as he did so.

Joseph rubbed the bridge of Echo's nose using his index finger, then moved it up his face, and used the rest of his fingers to ruffle the fur behind his ears. Echo lifted his head to embrace the attention, revealing a white stripe under his chin that ran down his underbelly. Joseph noticed the charm on his red collar and smiled; he gently caressed the charm with his fingers as he glanced at it, remembering the significance.

Echo moved on and walked over Joseph and climbed over the table, he knocked down the only one of Joseph's drawings that had been framed and took his place by the window; he surveyed the busy roads and frowned at the sound of beeping horns from the monstrosities called 'cars'.

"Echo" Joseph grumbled and lifted the frame, replacing it back into its original space; luckily, the frame was small so the glass had taken no damage. He observed the picture, stroking the glass in admiration and longing - this picture was very special to him. The drawing showed an angelic woman, with long blonde hair and a flowing white dress. She smiled gently and her eyes were soft, welcoming, like Joseph's green eyes.

This drawing was Joseph's remembrance of his mother as his recollection of her was diminishing since he did not see her that often before she passed away. When he was three, he hid from her; he stayed in the country during the war, so he was safe. However, their tailoring shop had been bombed with her still in it. Joseph had come home to his father, who was surrounded by other soldiers at the time and did not seem to show any sympathy towards his son - his eyes seemed lost, almost empty. Since then, his father had never seemed to look and be normal; something was not right. Was it the war? Was it his mother's passing? Was it Joseph?

Joseph turned on a lamp next to the picture and stared at the woman - he hated how he only had his drawing to use as a reference to remembering his mother. His father had photographs of her but they were in his room, his father did not like Joseph entering his room without him knowing so he drew what he could remember and kept it. The frame is the only thing his father bought for him that related to anything imaginative - Gregory hated anything created from someone's imagination - this drawing was the only exception due to it being a memory of his wife.

Although she smiled, nothing signified why she was happy. She seemed to stare out of the frame, longing to be in the world she was supposed to be in - it was as if she could feel Joseph's emptiness inside. Joseph decided to follow her direction of vision, out of curiosity and boredom. He followed it to his book of paper that was open to two clean pages - he knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to draw something, a world to be exact. It would be a world so new that war and loss were simply empty words.

Echo jumped down from the windowsill and stretched his claws, watching in curiosity as Joseph knelt on the floor while taking the lamp down with him. Joseph tried to decide which pencil he would use to create the land - green, dark green, or forest green. The wind blew and knocked off a pencil but Joseph did not notice, however it moved towards Echo and stopped.

Echo sat there and stared at the object, his pupils dilated until his eyes were nearly completely black. He nudged the pencil a little. Echo continued to push the pencil towards Joseph until it was next to the paper, but then Joseph noticed and grasped it. "Yellow, Echo?" The black feline cocked his head innocently, blinking in content. "Yellow grass - well, it is my world so I can make it look however I like." Joseph remarked. He grinned and started swishing the yellow pencil about on the paper, Echo staying by his side and following every movement.

*****

Gregory silently unlocked the front door, his breath making more noise than the steps he took. He slowly closed the door and turned on the hall light, hanging his jacket on a wall hook and leaving his Stetson on a small table. He watched the top of the stairs while he picked up a light briefcase; he then walked along the long blue carpet and headed for the lounge. He turned on another light, laid the briefcase on another small table, and opened it, taking out an opened but full envelope.

The envelope had his name written on in elegant writing, with postal stamps placed neatly along the top. The previously opened envelope had clean, careful cuts along the top, like there was something alive inside that needed to be handled with care; Gregory slipped one of his fingers and a thumb into the top and pulled something out, revealing the top of a letter. He stopped. He pulled his hand to his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, holding back the pain. He breathed hard and deeply while opening his eyes, sliding the letter back inside the envelope - he read the first words as they retreated back in their space, his heart pulling on itself: My dear Gregory. He replaced the envelope back inside the briefcase and took a moment to compose himself, resting his forehead on his hand before wiping back his hair. He scattered the paperwork about, searching for one thing only, his blue eyes racing around in distress.

Gregory found what he was looking for, his heart pounding in his chest as he brought it closer to his face. He hung the loop over his right hand and pulled at the tail with his left, closing the loop to fit around his wrist. He tightened the grip it had over his hand, clenching it into a fist, not feeling any fear or regret. He was surprised at how much force he had to use to stop the flow of blood to his hand before it started turning a deep red. He had forgotten about everything; about his life, about his future, and about Joseph - he was ready to move onto the next step.

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