Loved to Death

Pushing through the dark, he cautiously made his way back down stairs, away from the maddening, dominating sounds of his sister's continual crying, back to where the storm's rage ruled. He went down the stairs, across the living room, followed along the wall, and into the kitchen where he found his way to the rear door that led to the backyard. He opened it to a strong blast of windthat swept the door from his grasp, slamming it against the wall. Wind and rain rushed inside in frenzy, sending Jon in a panic to quickly get the door closed, which he finally did leaning his weight against it. 

"Maybe I'll just wait for Dad to get home," he thought, second-guessing his not so ingenious plan. As if Melissa had read his mind, her screams seemed to erupt tenfold, batting back his most recent idea. Jon huffed, shaking his head in frustration at what he was about to do. He halfheartedly opened the backdoor once more, this time bracing it to hold the weather at bay, as he stood behind it like a shield peering out into the night. The storm was relentless: wild winds tossing the rain madly at all angles. 

Jon frowned before braving into the darkness where he was instantly drenched. Wasting no time, he moved across the porch; his eyes squinting in an attempt to look through the night and rain on his way towards his purpose. He kept running, off the patio, and onto the flooded grass until he stopped under Melissa's window. The eager teen leapt onto the trellis, scaling it as quickly as possible. Reaching the ledge, he pulled his top half up to look into the glass. There was nothing but blackness and his reflection staring back at him. Just as he went to open the window from the bottom, right before his very eyes, his own reflection appeared to fade into a pale woman's--his mother's. He gasped at the sight which startled him backward and sent him falling from the ledge. He hit the wet ground head and back first with a heavy thud. 

***

Jon's eyes blinked open. He was lying on the couch, completely soaked, with a throbbing headache. "How?" He questioned as he sat up, noticing the lights were back on. The teen remembered making a try for the window and slipping off the trellis, but "How did I get back in..." His sister's screams interrupted the thought. It had gotten to the point where he wanted to scream back at her, tell her to shut-up. Instead, he took a deep breath before rolling off the couch, and marching towards the stairs. Jon meant to get in that room if he had to kick down the door to do so.  

Just as he reached the foyer the distinct sound of metal crunching sounded outside, stopping him where he was. It dawned on him, his dad wasn't home yet, and it sent his heart plummeting into his gut, causing a sickening feeling. He hurriedly averted his course towards the front door where heswung the door open. The storm had let up, yet the boy hadn't noticed, for his eyes were fixed across the street on his father's blue car wrapped around the base of a large tree. Jon took off through the doorway, sprinting along the driveway, and straight across the street.

"Dad!" He screamed as he arrived at the scene. The car had t-boned the tree on the driver's side. His dad was motionless within the vehicle, and there was a splat of crimson where the tree and driver's side window had met. 

"Dad!" Jon screamed once more. Tears brought on by fear had already begun to pool up in the corners of his eyes. He frantically scrambled around the car, making his way to the passenger side but halted. Something caught his eye. 

Squinting through his tears, he looked down to the end of the street--the direction his dad had been coming--there stood a woman in a white hospital gown. It was an apparition of his mother.

Jon couldn't breathe; he couldn't speak or move. It felt like an ice cube had melted down the arch of his back and had frozen him in place. The tears; however, continued now streaming down his cheeks.

There was a crack of lightning that lit the sky, and she was gone, leaving Jon sobbing and powerless to move. He tried to grasp exactly what he had seen, but his mind was a blur of mass confusion: of panic, terror, and uncertainty. It reached out for one thought. "Get help."