The Son and the Sparrow

Chapter Two(v4)

Chapter Two

Leon blinked away the sunshine that filtered through his window and yawned. There was but a single moment of pleasantness before everything returned. Clay’s laughter was gone. Leon was alone in this horrible hole. He stared up at the yellowing ceiling.

                The crunch of metal was ear shattering. Gray smoke twirled and turned as it met with the air. It cleared, revealing a crunched car in the intersection. Leon’s heart stopped. It was Charlotte’s. Leon opened his own car door. He was screaming, though he couldn’t hear what. His legs were beginning to move forward on their own accord.

                Leon turned to his side, tears in his eyes, craving escape. He rubbed a rather large scar on his cheek. His brain reminded him of the white bag in his car. Leon’s tongue probed where the gun scratched his mouth. He couldn’t kill himself, but that marvelous substance promised relief.

                What would Charlotte say? He thought to himself. She only wants what’s best for you, and you’re letting her down.

                Leon laughed to himself, and closed his eyes again. She cared so much for his well-being, and all he seemed to do was make the situation worse.

                He ran toward the accident, still screaming. Banged on the window. Oh God. The car hit Charlotte’s from the side. The passenger’s side. So Charlotte could have been alright. But what side had Clay been on? Leon wrenched open the driver’s door. Blood dripped down Charlotte’s forehead.

                “Honey!” Leon whispered, voice hoarse. “Are you okay? Please…please…”

                Charlotte’s eyes slightly opened, clearly dazed.

                He knew from instinct that he had to call 911, but before he could he glanced over to the backseat. Leon’s pulse quickened. Oh no. Oh shit. No.

                Leon sat up from the couch, blocking out the rest of the memory. That much was enough self-induced torture for now. Leon tripped into the bathroom and gazed at himself in the mirror for a few moments. His blonde hair reached his shoulders, resting over deep blue eyes. His cheeks were sunken, and he had a prominent scar running across the right side of his face. He wasn’t eating enough lately. His facial hair had grown past scrub and looked awkward. All these features were reflected back at him, but it didn’t look like him, at least not how he remembered himself. Instead of a shower, Leon’s next stop was the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, retrieved a container of milk and twisted the top off. Leon gingerly sniffed it and recoiled from the offending odor. After dumping it into the sink, Leon returned to the refrigerator. All it contained was an old half-eaten hamburger, and a six pack of beer. It occurred to him that there was also some crackers and whiskey in the cupboard.

                Leon flashed a quick smile. All through the six months his son had been dead, he hadn’t reached for the comfort of a bottle. Maybe it was time to. Before he could start his liquid feast the phone rang, a shrill sound. He picked it up with a hand, opening a beer with the other.

                “Hello?” he called into the device.

                “Hi.” A woman’s voice greeted him from the other line.

                Leon nearly choked on his beer. He set it down on the table and clutched the phone to his ear. “Charlotte.” He paused for a moment. “How are you doing?”