Trespasser

Chapter 15

Sean's POV

I awoke in one of those sweats where you feel hot but your skin is cold. I cupped my face with both hands, reeling and racking my brain to comprehend my dream. I refused to call it a nightmare. That made it too real. Unfortunately, I already knew it was. At least, it was in the past. But had grandma been there? I'll had to ask her. If I find her.

When I find her.

I glance at the clock, trying to block the memory from my mind. 7:06.

I'm not good at forgetting. I grabbed the notebook on my chipped bedside table, hastily flipping open to the nearest blank page. Jumping up, I plucked a relatively sharp pencil from my desk. I collapsed in my overly warm mattress and forced myself to stay. I couldn't go to the desk, the lamp would wake Keith. Our garage sale style room included came complete with a '90s light that barely worked, paired with a lovely crackling noise. Luckily there was just enough light seeping through window to prove sufficient for writing. Quickly I begin to scrawl my father's death into the notebook.

At the start it didn't help. It just brought the thoughts to the forefront of my mind, and personally suicide isn't something I love to think about. But after a few sentences I was able to capture his love, his despair, his desperate-ness and send them out of my heart and into the paper. Then there came his eyes. Those overly happy eyes that I will never get out of my mind. That I will never be able to totally understand the reason for the emotion behind them. Could you really find that much joy from death?

I didn't want to see that day.

I set down the paper and sighed at the same moment. Why me? Why do all these things happen to me? I turned my head upward to the God I was never really sure was there. I didn't feel like my hardships were much proof. I whispered, "Where is this mercy I hear about? Aren't I always supposed to feel loved? But all I've felt for my whole life is a sense of emptiness." I felt the stranger called tears descend my pale skin. "Did you even try to stop my father? Did you feel the need to keep my mother here? I guess not, because I'm alone and now I've lost the last person that has any connection to the life I feel I should have! Where is your mercy now?"

All I could do then was drain out my feelings.

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"Die heifers!" I jump to consciousness and jerk upright.

I release my breath in one long huff. "Keith, isn't it a bit early to be playing COD?" "You mean at 1? No. Anytime is game time."

One? Crap.

I scramble to my feet and push my notebook off of the alarm clock. 1:25. Oh god. I need to play detective again today, but I guess I just burned away like 5 hours because I'm an emotional hormonal teenage boy. Yay. Throwing on a black shirt and jeans I ran my hands through my straight black hair whilst standing in front of the mirror. I stared at the foreign boy in the reflection. The bags under his eyes were deep, his skin looked frail; the color of porcelain. His eyes pierced me. They contained an electric quality that shocked me to core. Oh wait. That's me. I can't recall the last time I've looked in a mirror. It could've been days. Weeks. Years. My face looked older, but my thin limbs gave the impression of a scraggly goat or a dead mule. I was definitely a ladies man.

"Keith I'm heading out!" I called as I grabbed the cool doorknob. My response was him screaming more obscenities at the tv. Allowing myself a chuckle I make my way outside.

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I stood at a bus stop, not knowing where I would get off once I boarded. My hair became tousled by the gusts produced as the Greyhound slowed to a stop. I watched the sea of people until it only ebbed. Boarding, I took a spot standing up. My head found itself against the cold metal rod that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. After a few seconds or minutes (time seemed unimportant to me at this point) my restful position was interrupted by the moving of the bus. I fell, landing on someone and having my breath taken away. Their hair was a stark blonde and reached to their waist. I got up and mumbled an apology, not able to find words.

She...was not a woman.

Trying hide the red that surely covered my cheeks, I retook my position by the pole, this time holding onto the hand rail also. I decided to get off wherever it looked like a good place to keep a hostage. Oh good, these dark warehouses look promising. Getting off with a few probable drug dealers and the "woman",  I quickly scuttled the opposite direction.

The industrial air caught in my lungs, forcing me to take more breaths in order to get enough oxygen. Suffocation by breathing. What an ironic situation. Towering gray structures are all that are seen when looking upward. Living in the Rust Belt comes with such great architecture and air quality. I turned into a comforting alley. The oily watery substance dripping from the gutters really adds to the ritzy atmosphere. I took a deep breath and made a silent prayer to be protected from mugg-ation. I summoned up all of my courage to take the first step into that menacingly dank path that reflected so accurately my life.

The steps after slowly became easier. The breathing situation was improved by holding my breath for short periods of time and taking smaller refills through my mouth. Thoughts began to enter my mind that stunted my confidence.  

If a guy comes out onto this alleyway would he really be threatened by a skinny white boy?

Would he hesitate to kill you?  

I didn't let myself answer to last one, though the first answer was an obvious no.

All of my movements stopped   however, when I heard those piercing feminine screams.