Lake Che

Chapter Three

Charlie

When I was ten, I stopped leaving the house. My parents tried everything to make me budge: from Boy Scouts to child psychologists, but to no avail. My bedroom was a sacred place. A safe haven where I could sit down, not having to bear witness to the world, or force myself into talking to other people.

And here I lay, covered in blankets in a cocoon-like manner, studying the wall facing me, the one that me and my Mom painted dark grey a few years ago. I wish I could stay here forever. I could play solitaire or rearrange the room all over again, the possibilities are endless. I tell myself that I can also kick Vincent out, then the house would just be one big version of my room, but some part of me won't let me do that. It's a part that feels something between sympathy and guilt, unable to recognize that some people just don't deserve it. I'd done a good job of repressing it in high-school, but now I've found that, after a few months of not using my survival instincts, I'm rusty.

I rise from bed, my vision pixelated and blurry. I walk out of my room to see Vincent on the couch, sleeping peacefully. The warm light from the living room's chandelier gives him a pacifistic aura as he rests his head on his bicep, snoring lightly.

I go to the kitchen and open a can of soup into a pot, then light the stove. I sprinkle in some spices and taste it: it's sublime. Just as I'm done heating the soup, I hear a voice from behind me.

"What're you making?"

"Soup." I don't make much effort to reply.

"Listen, about last night... I'm sorry for saying you should've defended yourself. I knew how much power I had over you, and I abused it. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I had to get it off my chest." He monologues. I'm at a loss for words. I never thought I'd see the day Vincent gives an actual apology that's not half-assed or just a plain non-apology.

"Okay." I find myself saying. I shouldn't be okay with it, but I cant stand how pathetic he makes me feel.

"So, are we cool now?" He throws his arms behind his head.

"We're cool. What do you wanna do today?"

"I was thinking that, since Christmas is right around the corner, we could go looking for decorations?"

"It's August." I deadpan.

"Come on, don't be such a pessimist! Get into that Christmas spirit. I'm sure we'll find something."

"But-"

"Pack your stuff, time to go christmas shopping!" He cheers. I go along with it because this is the first time ive seen him acting this weird, even in school. I wanna see where this leads.

Target is empty, as usual. Hundreds of empty shopping carts scatter around the entrance, we take one and go inside. First, we hit up the frozen foods aisle, but the freezers are empty. The same happens with every other aisle until we get to the home decor aisle. There's one small Christmas tree with a branch that looks like it's about to fall off. Covered in ornaments, it plays 'Silent Night' over and over again all the way home until I almost decide to feed it to the fireplace.

Vincent opens the door for me as I try to carry the shopping cart up the steps.
After some trial and error, we eventually fit the tree inside the door by balancing it horizontally. I look at him

"Do you think that guy had someone waiting for him to get back? A family?" I ask, biting my nails.

"Which guy?"

"The one we killed."

"Who cares? He was going to kill us."

"Was he? He could've been bluffing. I've been thinking about it, and you might've been right. I didn't have to kill him." I begin to feel pressure in my eyes and a migraine coming.

"Yes, you did. It was self defense. Come on, forget about that guy. He was an ass and he got what he deserved."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"I'm jus' saying, if I were you, I wouldn't lose any sleep about it."

"Speaking of sleep, it's 12 AM. I should go to bed." I swiftly end the conversation.

I go to my bedroom and let the loud, harrowing music from the Christmas tree sing me to sleep.