Control Me

Chapter Five

"What did you just say?" Caleb turns his body but his head stays down.
"You're not my dad," I repeat, louder than before.
I hear him sigh, annoyed with me and he turns. With a voice much softer than before, almost a whisper, "Just go to your room, Ingrid."
Again, "But you're not my dad."
He finally looks at me and his face says it all.
I know I'm pushing it but I can't help myself. "I know you're not happy with me. I see it in your eyes. Annoyance, confusion, betrayal. What's that? Do I see a little bit of hurt in there too?"
He grunts, as if my voice is pathetic. "So the monster does have feelings." I lean forward, my arms crossed.
   "I," He finally says, "am not a monster."
   "Oh and you suppose I am?"
   He's getting annoyed. He wants to go outside, check the barn, already eaten by the red flames. He speaks as though he's choosing his words very wisely. "No. I didn't say that."
   "No. You didn't. But I feel like you meant it."
   "No, Ingrid. That's not what I meant."
   "Oh-kayyyy. Whatever you sayyy." I swing my body back and forth before looking behind him and raising an eyebrow. "You might want to check that," I say, watching him turn and sigh again.
   He surprisingly doesn't say anything before leaving me. As sad as it seems, I wanted him to.
   I turn and race up the stairs again, panicking for a small second.
   What's wrong with me? What if Jim saw the smoke and came to check it out? What if he saw me? Oh god. He didn't see me. Did he? No I didn't hear his truck pull up. Maybe he was in the front and was about to come out back and saw us talking?
   A million things are racing through my mind and all I can think about is weather or not I've been caught. Caleb would go to jail for hiding me, 'a hazard to human society,' and I'd be going to a crazy house, where they'd poke me and shock me and make me scream and cry and put me in chains and-
   I trip over myself, my heart pounding even more as I plummet to the ground. I get up and look around, checking to see if anyone saw, but like always, I'm alone.
   Sighing, I scan my messy bed and look for something for me to do. I could make it, but I'm just going to be crawling back into it soon so what's the point. I could paint, but I don't want to. At this moment I would most likely only draw angry things. I could do some yoga, but my spray paint cans are all over my indigo mat. I don't want to clean it off.
   For a fraction of a second I think of going out and seeing how's Caleb's doing, but I shake my head and continue to ponder my better options.
   I don't realize it at first, but when I finally get bored and start doodling on the corner of a canvas, Caleb's standing in the doorway, all dirty from the smoke. He doesn't say anything, but just stands there watching me focus. From all the smoke intake he's had he tries to hold back a cough, making a sound like a whimpering toddler.
   That's when I notice him.
   "Oh god," I say scrambling to put my doodles away. "I didn't see you there."
   "I know." He says, still watching me without moving.
   I say nothing and watch him watch me, for fear I might say something I regret, like I already have. He's standing just in the doorway, with his legs crossed, left over the right. His left shoulder barely leaning on the door frame is bulging with muscles from working hard all the time. His short, light brown hair not quite long enough to be flippy, sits on his head all messy, from running his hands through it all day. His once white shirt darkened by ashes, is just not far from being tight. Form-fitting, I think to myself.
   He clears his throat, snapping me back into this awkward silence.
   "It's gone." He states, trying not make a conversation happen.
   I inspect my elbows, "I assumed."
   "Yeah. Saved as much as I could, but there ain't much left of it."
   I nod, spotting a small scrape from tripping.
   "I'll ask Jim tomorrow if there's anything he can do to help me, without actually coming out here."
   I ignore him, staring at the red dots of blood pooling. The redness around the bone is so much more fascinating than hearing the instructions in case Jim does come and help.
   I begin thinking of what it would be like if I wasn't a secret. Walking down the stairs and smiling at him, "Hey Jim. You're looking good." We could have a conversation, like human beings are supposed to.
   "Ingrid? Are you even listening?" I don't look up but I feel him watching. "Give it here." He says, sticking his hand out for my hand, while walking towards me.
   "Oh, no no. I'm fine. Really. It's a little scrape." He continues to walk over to me, as though I said nothing. His hot fingers brush over it, a stinging pain shocks me.
   "It hurt?"
   I meet his eyes. "A little. Only to the touch though."
   He nods and inspects it, then sets it down and begins to leave my room.
   "No, Caleb. It's fine. Really, it is. It's nothing. I've had worst."
   He just shrugs.  "I know. But I want to clean it."
   I sigh, and stare into my closet while he goes downstairs, to grab the first aid kit.
   "I hope you know it's going to burn," he chuckles, walking up the stairs.
   "Yeah. I know." I chuckle nervously. I hate the alcohol.
   Slapping his hands together then rubbing them, Caleb sits on the bed beside me and opens the kit, scanning it. "Okay, well that makes my job easier."
   I watch him pick out the right instrument to be used to clean around my wound. His fingers still hot run over my skin for no apparent reason before cleaning.
   I look up at him and watch his face.
   He catches me in the corner of his eye. "Hmm?"
   I shake my head. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
   A smile appears on his face and his eyes finally meet mine. "For what?" His eyes flash with a laugh but he waits patiently for my answer before looking back down.
   "For being a bitch. I've been... moody lately."
   Caleb just nods his head in agreement and stops me from continuing. "Yes well," he lifts his head to meet my eyes for a second. "So have I. And don't you dare say I haven't been."
   I smile and study the work he's performing. "Yeah. I won't," I chuckle.
   His laugh takes me off guard. It's so loud and a little high pitched, so happy. "Yeahhhh. I'm a dick."
   We laugh as he finishes bandaging up my arm. He looks at me all happy before turning very serious. "I really am sorry, Grid. I know I'm not your boyfriend. I know I'm not your dad. I just..." He looks away as if to hide his emotions. I move my head down so I can still keep eye contact with him. "I don't want you to get hurt. In anyway."
   Taking this all in I run my hand through his messy hair. "I know you don't. I mean, I don't want to get hurt either." I offer a small smile at him and he gives me one back for the briefest second. "But I know what you mean. I can't bare to know you could get hurt, everyday, and I'd never be able to know..." I trail off. I can't finish my thought. I just can't.
   Tight, hard arms find their ways around me and pull me into a hug. With my face in his chest I inhale.
He's not a monster.
   I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat. Slow and steady, but hard and loud at the same time. I could fall asleep to this constant melody.
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