Mr. Forgettable #Wattys2016

27

       

It was a regular Sunday morning when Jacob heard one of the most terrifying things in his life.

He was sitting in his room. Sunday mornings usually consisted of nothing more than sleeping in and eating lunch for breakfast. This Sunday, however, was not usual. This Sunday was rather unusual.

It began with the fact that he awoke at six, which was about five hours earlier than normal. His sleep had been unsettled. His meetings with Neutron had let him with too many questions. They buzzed around in his head, preventing sleep. He had awoken at four and googled the word contingence in order to satisfy his curiosity, but his dad had used up all of the data for the month. He'd have to wait and find another location with Wi-Fi. So then Jacob had fallen back into a restless slumber and was asleep until six.

That was when his advanced hearing picked up on his name being spoken in a conversation in the lower level of his house. It was his father's voice. That was a voice he didn't exactly want to hear first thing in the morning.

"—do to Jacob," said his father's voice.

That caused Jacob to wake up completely. Whenever his father spoke of him, it was usually about something bad. So he listened carefully, straining his ears to hear the voice on the other side of the telephone. It was only a faint murmur, so he silently crept from his bed to the door on the other side of the room. He bent down in order to stick his ear against the crack between the door and the floor. The rough carpet scraped his knees, but he ignored the stinging sensation in order to focus on the conversation occurring below him. Finally, he was able to make out the words. The person on the other end of the phone began to speak.

"He certainly hasn't done his job. I will instruct Sway to finish what he was supposed to do. Jacob, however..." Then the voice trailed off, and Jacob was left hanging.

"What about him?" asked his father.

"I will let you make that decision," said the mysterious voice.

Jacob heard the phone click back onto its receiver, and he slowly dragged himself across the floor of his room to climb back into bed.

And for some reason, Jacob was glad he hadn't heard the whole conversation. He would rather not hear about whatever decision his father was to make concerning his livelihood. He knew, though, that it was most definitely not beneficial to himself.

As he tossed and turned for the umpteenth time that morning, hoping to catch a few more hours of shuteye, he decided that he wouldn't let his father's decisions guide his life (or, he supposed, his lack of one). He knew who he needed to go to to fix all the problems his father had created.

()()()

That is how, six hours later, Jacob found himself standing outside of Larkin's house for the second day in a row. He was pretty sure that Larkin hated him, but he was certain that matters of life and death would be able to overcome her extreme dislike of him.

So Jacob rang the doorbell before he could convince himself otherwise.

Larkin was the one to open the door, and Jacob was not at all surprised to see the look of hostility appear on her face as soon as she laid eyes on him.

"What are you doing here?" questioned Larkin. She jutted out a hip and waited impatiently for a response.

"Well I―" began Jacob. But he cut himself off. What was he supposed to day to her? Hello, sorry I shot your father in the arm a week ago, but can we be friends again? Yes. He was sure Larkin would go for that.

His thinking was interrupted by a series of sneezes from Larkin. Out of habit, he automatically said, "Bless you." He continued in his thoughts. Instead of saying something he would regret later, Jacob stood on the porch of Larkin's house and kept his mouth shut. He pressed his lips together, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't get him killed.