Today is Monday

Chapter 7: Fourth of February

September 18, 2018

I walked on the stones that always welcomed me home and checked to see if the door was open. Unlike yesterday it was locked. I went through to the second zipper in my backpack to get the keys. When I opened the door I dropped my bag by the door and went to lay on the couch. I was very tired now and throughout the day I have been tolerating my soreness, but getting home it was as if it hit me all at once. I laid there for a long time, just breathing, but even breathing made me feel sore. My mind thinking a million different things all at once. Some thoughts were about this morning's chaos, some about Jack, some about having to get up and clean my earbuds, but the one that overtook my mind was the flashback that I got in the park, the one about my parents. I let out a groan trying to force myself to shove the memory to the back of my mind. Forget, forget, forget! But it kept coming back, faces blurry and that car. I got up breathing fast.

"M?" I turned to see Auntie from the hallway, "Something wrong?"

"No," I answered, calming my breathing and relaxing my eyes, "It's nothing Auntie." I got my backpack and went to my room. "I'm going to be in my room."

"Okay." She said, giving me a sad smile. I could tell that she was worried for me, but I just couldn't tell her what was on my mind. I was afraid to.

I shut the door shut to my room and threw my backpack on my floor. What should I do to get my mind off my parents? Go outside? Homework? Wait! I went to my desk even though it didn't look like one because the top was filled with papers, clothes, and anything that I was too lazy to put away, but on top of all that stuff was the journal. Let's read this. This definitely distracts me. I got the journal from the top of the stuff, some of the junk even falling from the pile. I'll pick it up later, I thought then I proceed to lie on my bed. I opened the journal to where I last was, remembering what had happened before. He was saying how he's tired of being perfect was it? I checked the journal. 'November 12, 1996... Tuesday...' Ah! Here it is! 'Sick of being the perfect little boy.' I read in my head. And his parents... A flashback of my parents came to my head. It was full force and I couldn't stop myself from reliving that moment. No! Stop it please, I can't. But my mind played the memory like an old record. It started hours before they had passed.

It happened on the fourth of February with a chilly breeze, it was an almost perfect day. I was riding home from the principal's office. My first fight in a school had caused me to be suspended for three months. I had hit someone who was bullying a younger girl. I hated seeing things like that go unnoticed. So I tried to help the girl and teach that bully a lesson, but my middle school was very strict about not wanting fights, and something like that would lead to trouble. Which caused me to be the one getting punished. So my mom and dad came to pick me up after a conference about my fight. The ride home was silent, I thought they were going to talk to me in the car, but it seemed they were waiting until we got home. I knew they were not mad at me; they made that very clear when they talked to the principal. They were however unhappy that I chose to fight instead of resolving this in another way.

My mom parked the car and I got out and waited by our front door for the door to be unlocked. Dad came and unlocked it.

"Go to the table okay?" He said as he swung the door open, "We still need to talk."

"Yes Dad." I respectfully said and walked to our table that he was referring to, the table where we ate breakfast and dinner. It wasn't really a dining table, but an island with high stools as seats. I preferred the coolness that the counter tiles gave than any wooden normal table. I sat there and waited. Dad sat across from me as Mom hung up the car keys. When she sat down I knew it was time that we were going to address this.