Hit And Run With It

Chapter 8 - Belle's POV

After breakfast is when the doorbell chimes.

My heart almost stops, thinking it's my parents, but the person standing at the door when Gwen answers it is only a mailman.

My parents don't come for another hour. Caleb and I are baking cookies with Danny when I hear the back door open downstairs.

"Belle, honey? We're home," a woman's voice calls up to us.

I immediately freeze. Caleb glances over at me, and I must've looked like a deer in the headlights because he has to nudge me gently across the kitchen. My mind is racing but my feet still know where they are going. One foot after another brings me to the top of the stairs, heart pounding. I tentatively step down the stairs and I hear heavy luggage being brought in through the door and onto the tiled floor. The first face I see is the woman from the picture, but her face is more creased, older, and displays lack of sleep and worry.

"Belle?" Relief floods her face.

"Mom?" I question who this woman is to me, testing the picture. Her eyes tear and she cautiously holds out her arms, asking for a hug. Coming down the rest of the steps, I cross the room to hug her, taking her by surprise. Over her shoulder, I can see a man bringing in the last of the few bags. The man looks different from the picture. It's no his age - it's just someone else entirely different. I stiffen.

Mom pulls back, and notices my hostile expression.

"Belle, hon, this is Bill...your stepdad," she says the last word carefully, testing it out.

"Wha-" the word comes out as a breath. I can feel myself losing control, can hear the clicking of the grenade inside of me. Before she can say anything more, I explode.

"Where is my dad? The man from the pictures? Where is he?" I frantically search their faces with my eyes. Every word seemed to stab an invisible knife deeper into my mother's heart. Bill stands there awkwardly, suddenly very interested in the pattern on the floor. Mom blinks rapidly, trying not to cry.

"Belle," Mom starts, but I can't handle this. I turn and run upstairs and into my room, falling back onto the door, shutting myself from the outside world. I try to think of something, anything that would calm me down,  but all I can do is lie flat on my back staring up at the ceiling, praying that sleep would find me and stop my mind from taking over.

***

About an hour later, I hear a soft knock on my door.

"Who is it?" I say towards the ceiling.

In response, the door cracks open and Caleb slips inside.

"What's wrong? I didn't really...understand what happened down there," he asks, shutting the door behind him and wringing his hands nervously.

"Bill isn't my dad," I state, sitting up and staring blankly at the wall. " I just want to know what happened."

He lets a breath out quietly, and walks over to sit down beside me on the floor. I lean into him, feeling like this was totally natural, like my body was made to fit into his perfectly. His hand goes behind me, drawing small circles onto my back with his fingertips.

"Well, she's a bit better now, maybe you can come out and ask her again," he suggests, his voice quiet. I nod slowly, not saying anything until he leads me out into the kitchen where everyone is sitting down at the table. Danny seems distraught, probably wondering why his sister is acting so odd. I feel bad for putting him through this. Bill is sitting at the end of the table, staring at his folded hands on the table. My mother is sitting opposite to him, near the patio door. The daylight coming through makes her look much older than I'm sure she is. 

"So what happened to him?" I ask, nodding towards the the picture still sitting in the center of the table. Mom sucks in a sharp breath, staring at the photo.

"It was a few years ago," she begins solemnly. "You and your father stopped by the bank before coming home." She gets up and moves to the sliding door, staring out at the city. "That day, three robbers burst in, demanding all the money that could fit into their bags. Everyone in there was ordered to the floor. Not one person working there pressed the silent alarm. So your father, being the right and courageous man he was, tried to phone 911 while they weren't watching. He didn't even get to the operator before they caught him. They hauled him to his feet and he begged for his life. Instead they -" she stops and I hear a small sniff from where she's standing. A single tear rolls down her cheek, but she finds her strength and wipes it away.

"They shot him. Point blank," she turns around to face us, looking straight at me.

"Right in front of you."

I wish I could cry. I wish I could feel some sort of emotion, grievance for his loss, but I can't.

All I can say is, "Oh."

And all over again I hate that I can't remember.

***

Sorry that it has been well over a year for me to update this story, my life has been so crazy and it hasn't stopped.

I was thinking about quitting this story, but I found some inspiration to continue on and I hope it turns out the way I had envisioned it when I started. 

If I have any readers, thank you to all who have read so far! I will hopefully finish this story sometime soon. 

Until next update. :)