𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯!
Tragedy can happen to anyone, anytime and anywhere, and the saddest part about that truth is...
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Chapter Thirty Seven: Reopening Old Wounds River Jenkins
As I step through the visitation room’s double doors after the guard waved at the camera for them to let me pass through the doors, I feel a wave of sickness wash over me.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I had absolutely nothing to eat or drink this morning before I picked Sophia up from her house, I would have most likely already puked my damn lungs out.
The guard steps through the doors first, leading me to another hallway that lead to the closed off solitary rooms where sick inmates would get their visitors.
As we walked closer to his room, memories start to flood my mind.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I ask Beck the second he steps into my room.
He was sweaty because he came from practice a few minutes ago. His white shirt was covered in dirt and grass shards. His hair was unruly, standing up in every direction, even when he raked his fingers through it.
The question came abruptly; I didn’t even get the chance to greet him properly.
He frowns when he sits down onto the foot of my bed, chuckling as if the question was weird coming from me.
“I know that. Why?” He asks, a little unsure.
I was sitting at my desk, watching him carefully.
My father hasn’t hit me for a while now. He hasn’t spoken more than twenty words, actually. It was a relief, but something about the way he ‘forgot’ about me was a little unsettling.
As I started to feel relieved, Beck started to backtrack.
He rarely smiles. He rarely comes into my room to ask me if I wanted to play football with him in the yard. He rarely eats at the dinner table with us anymore. He’s acting strangely and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.
And I think it has something to do with the notebook I have found.
“I just want you to know that you can tell me anything.” I tell him, making sure to put emphasis on the word ‘anything’.
I’m his big brother and he needs to know that I’m there for him.
“You’re acting weird.” He chuckles yet again, but something about his chuckle even seemed unsettling. “Is there something I need to know? Are you dying or something?”
