Hidden Clips

Clemency

It was half-past ten o'clock when Alex found himself standing on Norma's porch.

You crossed over a line, and you are never crossing back. I will never trust you again.

Those words have been torturing him ever since. He couldn't stop thinking about the way she stormed off, leaving his staff members more confused than ever.

He couldn't focus on the remaining of the day. He tried, but it was vain. Ever since he met her, his life had revolved around her, and at first, he hated it. But now, nothing had changed, and she continues to be the center of his world.

When it comes to Norman, she can't see clearly. He's known this since the beginning. It was nothing new to him. Alex lost his mother at a young age, but her mother was never a fighter like Norma.

She never did half of the things Norma's done to protect her kid. And deep down, it makes him proud to have a wife so determined, so protective. But he also despises that she continues to bury with her his lies and evil, dangerous behavior.

No one but her believes that Norman is not capable of hurting her. Alex had witnessed the child in distress. In fury. And he didn't care what he had to do to protect her. He's never trusted Norman. Not since Mrs. Watson. And he was not about to grant him his wife on a silver platter for him to hurt and destroy. Over his dead body.

Alex took one last breath before knocking on the wooden door. The house is gloomy, and its current vibe is quite spine-chilling. It looks abandoned and detached from the rest of the world.

He finally knocks. Three times. He had noticed a dim light coming from Norma's bedroom on his way up the stairs. From their bedroom. He was hurt that she hadn't called after their fight. It was their first one as a married couple, and he never meant for things to escalate the way they did. When he tried calling her, it sent him straight to voicemail. He'd phoned the house, but still no luck.

There is no movement inside the house, but he knocks again, a bit louder than before. He feels stupid for standing outside, demanding his place when he had a damn key, and he could easily let himself in.

But he understood that it had to be this way. Norman was inside the house, his house, and Alex suddenly was back to square one. After feeling welcomed in this spooky but cozy home, he suddenly felt like an outsider and hates Norman for making him feel this way.

He squints his eyes as if trying to see through the sheer curtain hanging on the front door.

"Norma!" he calls for her. He doesn't care if Norman hears him. She's his wife, and he needs to talk to her. To see her.

He knocks again. And again. And again.

He wasn't going to give up just yet, but he roamed down the steps of her porch, his eyes darting directly to her room. The dimmed light had been turned off. He smiled to himself, knowing that she knew he was there. She couldn't possibly believe that turning off her bedside lamp would be the end of it, could she?

When he marches back towards the front steps of her porch again, the front door swings open. He comes to stand in front of her, his eyes soft but hopeful. She steps foot on her porch and closes the door behind her, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What?" that tone was back. The one she used with him at his office a couple of hours ago.

"Can we talk? I've been trying to reach you all day," he said in a lighthearted temper.

"I don't want to talk to you. I said what I said, and I don't need to say more. You're pretty clever. I thought you'd be able to catch on by now."

"Catch on?" he asked bewildered. "Norma, this whole thing is just a misunderstanding. Miscommunication, that's all."