resplendent *gawsten* ✓

Chapter Twenty-One

2.18.18
edit 8.25.20
tw; panic attack, mention of a type of prison sentence

1,342 words

my boys were at work. i was alone, and helpless, but that didn't bother me. i felt like i was bouncing on pink-yellow lemonade-covered jellyfish, like dory in finding nemo.

i've never been more correct with an innocent simile.

i had my music blasting in the kitchen. i decided that today would be a productive day and got to cleaning the house. i had just finished the kitchen and moved on to the front room when there was a knock at the door.

i ran to pause my music before i hurried to answer the door. the man on the other side was so tall that i stumbled back a few steps in intimidation. he looked like he was permanently angry, too, and i could smell it reeking off him. i assessed what his eyes looked like and sure enough, his pupils were dilated.

"u-um...hi?" i greeted him with key-lime.

he peeked into my home over my shoulder. i squinted at this, but let him talk. "is michael knight here? i need to talk to him."

i shook my head. "n-not since de-decem-cember...w-why?"

"he hasn't come to work since then, d'ya know where he is?"

i bit my lip and shuffled my feet. "in j-jail..."

the guy's eyebrows shot up. "shit, really? what he do?"

birch wood. he didn't seem to notice it, nor did he seem to notice my wince. "b-bad-bad stuff... wasn't-wasn't...g-good."

he seemed to finally look at me, and i mean really look at me. dear reader, i don't think you've ever seen what i saw behind his eyes, like he blamed me for that monster being in jail. he seemed like he knew all, but all my worries were washed away when he cocked his head to the side and offered a sad smile.

"huh, really? i always thought he was a great guy. after all, he kept goin' on and on about how great his son was."

i shook my head and took a tiny step, and closed the door a millimetre. "n-no. w-what has he-he said 'bout-'bout me?"

the guy scratched his head. "uh-well, your daddy's grumbled one day at work way back in december-'round the time he stopped comin' to work-about how he hoped his son was gonna be home soon. i just assumed you were missin' or somethin', he said his wife was worried 'bout ya 'n everythin'."

i was shaking so, so badly, but i couldn't let this man see it. i shook my head. "ma-mama's been-been d-dead for eight-eight years...he-he l-lied, 'm s-sorry..."

he nodded slowly. "oh. well, sorry to bother ya then, son." i nearly jumped out of my skin as he waved and walked down my driveway.

not safe. not good. i can't breathe, was the air always this thin? i think i slammed my front door shut; it made a bursting red-black sound that made me cry out and cower behind my arms from it. somewhere inside me i know that it only sounded once, but i was too focused on the fact that it was repeating and repeating itself, and red-black continuously exploded in my eyes. the front door seemed to be getting closer to me with each thud.