When Clyde Parker, the wayward son and the rotten-apple of the Parker family-tree, storms his way back into Avery Fields, he sets out a flurry of butterfly effect in Dawn Marshal's life.
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HER MOTHER'S WORDS HAUNTED her in the late hours of the night. They sat on her shoulders whispering into her ears, they sat on her chest with their fingers grasped around her throat slowly constricting the air supply in her lungs. Her mother's words, they wrapped on her body enveloping her into a cocoon of warmth till she swatted the sheets off herself on a cold night and jolted out of her bed, breathless and panting in a pool of sweat.
Her chest heaved up and down unsteadily, various thoughts were pacing back and forth in her mind. Clyde Parker didn't climb up her window that night and she was torn between being thankful for his absence and being concerned about his whereabouts. She had left her window open, sliding it up a notch, dropped his baby blue blanket by the couch and laid the array of pillows between them creating a partition.
Though it didn't matter anymore-the line was already crossed.
The cold wind crept through the crack of the window and caressed her skin. She shuddered, sliding inside the covers. She could still feel the phantom of his touch on her skin. She had more sleepless nights these past few months than she had all her life.
The rest of the night consisted of restless tossing and turning, never did she roll over to his side, which remained empty and cold. The night waned on, and even the smallest sounds could push her to the edge. She was hyper-aware of the slightest things, even the water dripping down her tap, the scratching of the tree on the glass of her window, the squeaking of the hinges and the scrunching of the dried leaves in the night.
At two a.m. she heard the front door creak open and hasty footsteps barged into the house. Must be Ethan, she thought to herself. Another footstep followed his, she could hear the giggles, the crashing of glass on the floor, perhaps in his drunken stupor her brother knocked something over, slurry incoherent words whispered till the sets of footsteps stumbled into a room and the door clicked shut. She let go of the breath she didn't know she was holding.
It's been a while since her brother got drunk into the oblivion and brought a girl home.
She forced her eyes shut trying to escape her blaring orchestra of thoughts but the silence was a killer too. She could write about him to make her heart feel less heavy but recording something like that in paper and ink, made it all more concrete and real.
So, in that moment of weakness, her feet carried her out of the bed and into her closet as she found his grey hoodie and pulled it over her body, basking into his scent, scent that was slowly fading away. She lost herself into him again, in the darkness of her room, within the haven of her duvet, her cold fingers crept down slowly pulling her underwear down to her knees, her heart pulsating in her chest, blood rushing through her body.
She shut her eyes, as her hand glided between her thighs, touching herself. In those blissful moments, Clyde Parker was with her under the covers, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses across her neck and her shoulders, a fire ignited in her the pit of her belly as she felt the weight of him on top of her, as she imagined him inside her, invading the innocence of her body.
