Intuition

Intuition Five

I found it especially hard to fall asleep when the sun finally set.

I tossed and turned in my cot, the thin sheets soaked in my sweat. My skin was sticky and warm, and I my entire body was flustered and uncomfortable.

I tossed off the covers I had just pulled over my body, and swung my legs over the side of my bed. My toes skimmed the wooden floorboards, and I scrunched my nose when I picked up the scent of skunk.

I got up and wobbled over to a corner of my room, where my window was. The glass was dusty, dirty, and coated in grime and dead bugs. But it still let in a little beam of moonlight, exactly where I needed the light to shine.

I bent over and pulled on a loose floorboard, which I had discovered when we first moved into this condo.

The plank came away with ease, and I carefully set it aside. There was a gap underneath it, and in the little hole I hid things I didn’t want my father to see.

I had a little secret collection, things like magazines, newspapers, old photographs, and two paperback stories, one titled “Hogwarts Confidential” and the other was a Harry Potter novel.

I picked up one of the newspapers tucked away at the bottom. I had hidden one that I had stolen last week, and I hadn’t had the time to read it until now. It was old news, but I still savored every word.

The headline on the first page screamed that some sports team had won the World Series, and a picture of a bunch of men in uniforms tackling each other was underneath it. I carefully turned the page, and my interest was piqued by a different article. The headline read Senator’s Son Goes Missing: Foul Play Suspected. I furrowed my brow and continued reading.

Jim Greenworth, Michigan State Senator, reported Percy Greenworth, his twenty-two year old son, missing after he didn’t return from a trip to Philadelphia three days ago. (I noted that he must have disappeared ten days ago, since the paper was a week old) He was on leave to attend an anti-crime convention. Senator Greenworth had received several odd text messages, and a suspicious phone call, just hours before the time that his son was supposed to return home.  “Please, if you know where he is, let us know” he and his wife beg. They have 10,000 dollar reward for his finding.

             I made a quiet sound in the back of my throat, feeling pity for the family. No one deserves to have their child taken away. That’s why I always feel sympathy for my mother.

A picture of the senator’s son was printed next to the article. It was a black and white picture, and he was wearing a suit and tie. He was an attractive guy, with a strong, rugged chin and hair that was flipped up at the front. His eyes were squinty, and looked oddly familiar. I felt that if the picture was in color, I would recognize who it was. But at the moment, he seemed only like a strange memory. 

I browsed through the rest of the newspaper, but none of the other articles were particularly interesting. I folded the paper back up and paged through a few of my old magazines, and I slowly felt my eyelids growing heavier as the sky slowly grew lighter outside of my window. I leaned my head against the wall, and slumped over, letting sleep consume me.

***

            I woke up to the sound of rapid footsteps crashing up the stairs. I quickly threw the magazine that sat open in my lap back into the secret gap and fitted the floorboard back into place. Just as I pushed it back into its spot, my father burst through the door, his chest heaving. He had a worn satchel thrown over his shoulder.

            “Time to go, Yvonne.” He panted, tapping the chunky watch that was wrapped around his wrist. Immediately I got up and grabbed the small, torn backpack that I used as a suitcase wherever we went. It was not unusual for him to announce that we have to go at the most random times. But it happened most after he would rob a bank or jewelry store. I recognized it as one of those times, because I knew he didn’t have that expressive-looking watch on his wrist yesterday.

I threw on a smelly sweatshirt and kept on the yoga pants I was sleeping in. I found too odd pairs of socks and pulled them on my feet, tying on my old sneakers immediately after. I shoved a few items of clothing into the backpack, and snuck in my old pink watch when my dad wasn’t looking.

I had finished packing exactly four minutes later. I stood in my doorframe, taking one last look at my room. Even though we had only been here for a couple of months, I had grown attached to this room.

I shook my head and slung my backpack over one shoulder, finding my father pacing up and down our downstairs foyer.

            “What took you so long?” he snapped, when he saw me coming down the stairs.

            “I couldn’t find my other shoe,” I lied.

            “Whatever,” he clutched his satchel, and kept peering through our door’s peephole, like he was waiting for someone.

Suddenly, there was a light knock at the door. My dad leapt forward, yanking on the handle, the door swinging open to reveal a disheveled Pierce standing on our porch. His fedora was missing, and showed me that he had light brown, tussled hair. The feeble lamp that hung from the overhang illuminated his muddy eyes, which were rimmed with dark circles. He must’ve had a bad night as well.

He squinted at us, and gestured for us to follow him. Our condo was on the ground floor, so we had to walk along a narrowly paved sidewalk to the parking lot.

It was cold outside, and I wish I had put on warmed pants. The chilly air was blowing straight through the thin fabric of the yoga pants I was wearing.

The sun was painting the sky pink; it had not fully risen yet. I wanted to check my watch for the time, but I knew better than to do that in front of my father. He didn’t even know I still had that watch.

I took an educated guess and assumed that it was around six in the morning. I yawned, and wished I had brush my teeth before we left. There was a bad taste of metal in my mouth. I licked my lips and stared at the ground as we continued our silent march to the parking lot.

            “Here we are,” Pierce broke the silence, making me snap my head up and see a long black limousine parked in a few yards away. He checked that no one was looking, and dug a pair of keys out of his pocket and clicked a button. The limousine beeped, and its headlights flashed on and off. He nodded, and let himself into the front seat. My father hopped into the passenger seat next to him. I stood there stupidly, not knowing what to do.

            “Get in the back, Yvonne,” he called, rolling down his window. I widened my eyes and pulled open the door that lead into the back cabin. I stifled as gasp as I stooped into the luxury compartment.

            LCD lights were built into the ceiling, and flickered like stars. There was a rich, yellowish light coming dimly illuminating the cabin, but its source was unknown. Wine glasses were hanging by their bases on a pegboard, and a mini fridge revealed bottles of expensive soda, exotic wines, and sparkling water.  Tan, buttery leather seats wrapped around the corners of the cab, and there were tons of buttons for doing who knows what. I pressed a button, and a sunroof began sliding open, letting in a crisp breeze. I quickly pressed it again, and it slid back closed. I saw a black window in front of me, which lead to the front seats. I saw the fuzzy silhouettes of Pierce and my dad. They must’ve been talking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

A low buzzing noise filled the cabin, and the sound of rain began coming down on the roof. I squinted through the tinted windows, and saw heavy rainclouds above us. I sighed and found a few cashmere blankets in a seat compartment. I folded them up and used them as a pillow, and let myself fall into a restful sleep.