Because I'm a Nerd.

Chapter 22- "What if it had been some other not so nice robber guy?!"

Chapter 22: ''What if it had been some other not-so-nice robber guy?"

Nathan POV

I dust off a very ancient looking book that's barely held together by a couple of thin white fibres. Looking at how fragile it is, my guess is that it was paperback in its heydays. However, it could easily as well have been hardbound, given the degree of the yellowing pages.

Joshua gives me a pointed glare. I go a little red at the ears as I realize how good I have become at analyzing books. Or as Joshua would put it, 'staring at books the way other guys my age stare at boobs'.

All in all, I guess he's made it pretty clear that he doesn't appreciate me wasting time like this while I stack all those books. I'm pretty sure that he thinks I'm a bit of a freak too.

"Hey kid! Don't just stand there! Go finish what you started!" he says, in a rather gruff voice.

I sigh. It would do Joshua a fat lot of good to remember that I don't even take a single dollar in exchange for helping out here. I nod my head and disappear from his line of sight before he can snap at me for anything else.

Joshua mutters something incomprehensible about me being an idiot under his breath before he walks away. I sigh again before shuffling over to the next aisle and finishing my job for the day.

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"Aunt Ellen, I'm homeee!" I bellow from downstairs, purposely stretching the last syllable.

I flip out the porch light and toss my sneakers into the cupboard before peeping around again. I'm greeted with an unsettling, almost eerie sort of silence.

Panic pulls me under as I remember that evening in vivid detail. I'd been just as excited coming home and had been greeted with a silence every bit as deadly as this. Beads of sweat start trickling down my forehead. A thousand and one grisly images flash before my eyes and my hands start to tremble once more.

"Aunt Ellen!" I call out again, my voice sounding more like a plea this time. I strain my ears hard to listen for any reply. Aunt Ellen, Uncle Dave and Lauren have got to be okay. There's nothing more to it; they have to be fine.

I walk into the living room and don't see any signs of anything unnatural there. My heart rate goes down a little at the peaceful sight of this familiar room. I call out for my Aunt about three more times before I get all clammy again.

Black spots appear in front of my eye as I grow dizzier by the minute. Being greeted with silence when I reach home isn't something I have gotten used to yet.

Yes, I'm okay with accepting the fact that my parents are gone. Yes, I'm okay with knowing that I'm never going to see them again. I'm also fairly used to the idea that they are not going to be there for me ever again; not to help me heal a broken heart or to hear me give my speech as (hopefully) the class valedictorian when I graduate. They're never going to help or support me through anything. Period.

However, I am so NOT okay with walking into a silent, deserted house. It just brings back all sorts of unwanted memories. Memories that I had tucked away at the back of my mind, hoping I'd never have to deal with them ever again. Memories that painfully but surely drag me into the present and remind me of the guilt I've never quite gotten rid of. They are a real pain in the ass to endure. (Memories, not parents, although I believe I did use the same description for the latter when they were around.

It's like every time I think about their deaths, the world seems to close in on me. I'm trapped in a room that gets smaller by the second. And all I see or hear is one word.