This is all that I am going to upload for now, until I get a little reaction from people. (See that people are reading it.)
{Chapter 2}
Twenty Minutes later Anne entered the hospital. She walked to the room that Andrew was always in. Anne carried herself with a confidence that gave people the chills; which in most cases was good. She was a successful business woman, how she carried herself gave everyone confidence in what she did.
Andrew smelled his moms shampoo before he saw her. He had grown accustomed to the fruity smell of green apple that came from the soap. He now loved the aroma, when, a few weeks ago he had hated it passionately. It now reminded him of his mom, and the protection she had for him.
“Hello,” Carrie said. She stood from the chair she had sat down in a few minutes prior to Anne’s arrival.
“Hello,” Anne smiled. “Thank you for bringing Andrew here,” Anne smiled a little brighter. “My name is Anne Crey.” Anne pushed her hand forward in a way that showed that she intended to shake Carrie’s hand.
“Hello, Anne,” Carrie said, she grabbed Anne’s hand as she said it. “My name is Carrie Johnson. You have quite a boy,” Carrie smiled. The skin around her eyes crinkled. Obviously she smiled a lot. Or maybe she just naturally looked this way.
Anne didn’t know exactly what to say, so she just smiled.
“I’ll let you talk to your son,” Carrie exited the room. Her arms swung at her hips, they looked graceful. Like that of an angel.
“Andrew, I must say, you are a klutz!” Anne winked softly. “This is the second time you have been in the hospital this year, and it’s March. I swear we need to get you an escort when it comes to stairs!” Anne grinned, her disarming grin that always filled Andrew with a small bit of happiness.
“No,” Andrew realized that he had spoken too quickly, so he rephrased. “I don’t think we need to do that. I think my burn puts me off balance.” Andrew grinned at his joke. Anne cringed; he hadn’t realized that such jokes made her that uneasy. “Sorry,” he said.
Anne bounced back from her small bout of sadness. Anne felt terrible for being struck down by Thomas on that night. It wasn’t that she felt weak. It was that she had been knocked down by the swing of one fist. If only that fist had not struck her, then she could have saved her son.
Could she have? If that fist had not hit her, then would another have? This was the question that always pained Anne. Could she have saved her son from his pain?
Anne shook her head. She said, “I am going to find the doctor. I will let him know I am here.”
Andrew sat in the room that smelled of blood and bleach. He sat there wondering what his mom thought. Did she have any clue that he hadn’t fallen down the stairs? Was Carrie standing outside the room spilling her guts? Curiosity was raging through Andrew’s bones.
Just as soon as he swung his legs off of the paper wrapped bed he swung them back on, because the door was opening. In walked his mom, and the doctor. Seconds later the door opened again. The person who walked in was not a doctor, or even a nurse. It was a man with sandy blond hair, and light stormy grey eyes.
The man looked at Andrew and realization passed his charming face. “Oops, wrong room.” He laughed a short little clip. He exited the room, head down; a small grin on his face.
“That was odd,” Andrew said with a grin on his face. He always enjoyed when Dan Terrence walked into this room. He never really figured out that the restroom was the right next door. At least, that is what Dan told him.
Andrew believed that Dan was completely smitten with his mom. From what Andrew collected from his mom’s body language, she liked Dan a lot! Later Andrew would beg her to talk to Dan. Later, after he begged his mom to talk to him, he would call Dan and beg him to ask his mom out.
Dan was the only kind of man, besides his Uncle Scott, and Grandpa George, that he liked to be around. Most men gave Andrew the creeps. “Just as well should,” his grandpa always said. “Most men are creeps with evil intentions. It’s been that way since Adam and Eve’s children Cain and Abel.” Andrew couldn’t agree more. He only disagreed with the Adam and Eve part, who cared about those two?
Andrew’s grandfather was an extremely wise man who swore that if he ever caught whiff of Thomas he would not rest until he was jailed. Andrew’s grandmother felt the same way. In fact, almost every person in Andrew’s family hated Thomas.
The doctor put Andrew’s finger in a brace. “It is awe striking how much these fingers take; and how much jarring your arms take.”
“I must be an oddity,” Andrew said. He was tired of sitting in the room. He had to wait eleven more minutes before departing from the hospital into the cold Vancouver air.
“Mom,” Andrew said, while walking at a slow shuffle to their car.
“Yeah?” Anne asked.
“You need to talk to Dan.” Anne stopped walking.
“Dear goodness where on earth did that come from?” She laughed nervously.
“Don’t play here mom. I am completely serious. No joking here. I know you like him,” he said, “Or, should I say love him?” Andrew put his hands to his heart and batted his eyelashes playfully. Andrew moved his hands to his mom’s arms. They were extremely cold. He realized how cold the air was and that she was wearing a dress. “Gosh, it’s forty freaking degrees out here. Why in heck are you wearing a dress?”
Anne looked down at her dress and said, “Oh, I just threw this on. I was late for work.”
“Oh, really…” Andrew trailed off. “Interesting.” He winked. “I am thinking of a different story. When you heard that I was at the hospital, you quickly pulled on a dress that flatters you so you could impress Dan.” Andrew’s mom turned bright red. Andrew shook his head, laughing. He walked on.
Andrew reached the suburban his mom had bought a year earlier, and stopped. Anne pressed the unlock button on her keys. The lights lit up. The clanking of the locks made Andrew jump.
“Skittish much?” Andrew laughed sarcastically at his mother. “Jump in,” she said before shutting her door. Andrew wrenched open the passenger side door. He sat in the plushy seat and latched his seat belt. When the car’s engine started and the radio came to life, Andrew immediately changed the station from Christian to country. Andrew detested Christian praise songs. They were only about worshiping some silent god who did nothing for them. All he did was bring grief, pain or suffering.
Andrew began to sing along with This is Country Music by Brad Paisley when his mom turned the radio to complete silence. Andrew knew something was coming. “Why did you turn the music off?” Andrew asked while leaning his forehead on the window.
“We need to talk.” Andrew took a deep breath and pulled his head from the window and studied the oily patch that had been ingrained on the window. He wiped it off with his good arm and then turned to look at his Mom.
“Okay, about what?” Worry etched his voice. He didn’t want his mom to talk about the beatings he took from Christophe.
“It’s about your writing.” Andrew wracked his brain. He hadn’t written about the beatings. Wait, he had, but he had burned most of them by the candle in his room. There were some, though, but he had locked them in a safe under his bed well within the shadows. Had she found the combination on the closet wall? But why would she be looking in there?
Surely she couldn’t have. Anne took his silence as an invitation to continue speaking. “I read one of your short stories. It was incredible!”
“Mom! You know I don’t like you looking through my stuff!”
“Hey, don’t use that tone with me,” she snapped. “First of all I am your mother and until you are eighteen I have the right to look through your stuff. Second, you left it on the kitchen counter.” Andrew mentally kicked himself. Why would he leave his stories on the counter? Idiot!
Andrew groaned, “You could have asked.”
“Would you have let me read it?”
“No, probably not.” Andrew shook his head.
“There you go, that is why I read it.”
“Ugh,” Andrew looked out the tinted window to the side of the road. He was actually glad his mom had read it. He knew his mom was probably saying she liked it to make him feel good. This was why he was acting so defensive.
Anne was silent for a time. She turned up the volume on the radio. Currently playing was Summer Nights by Rascal Flatts. Andrew started to sing along, despite his hatred of the song. The SUV rolled into the target parking lot. Anne parked the SUV and said, “I am going to get your prescription. Want to stay here?”
Andrew replied curtly, “Yes.” Anne quickly walked into the store. She came out minutes later holding a prescription bag.
Andrew and Anne sat in silence until the vehicle rolled into the slanted driveway.
The suburban clicked off. The doors stayed closed, though. “Andrew,” his mom said. “I put a letter you received in the mail on your bed.” Andrew’s pulse spiked. He had recently sent a few pages of a novel he was writing in the mail to his grandmother. Had she read it?
Andrew unlocked the door and jumped from the car. “Be careful of your arm!” Anne said when Andrew’s arm clunked against the metal.
Andrew sprinted to his room. He nearly passed out when his arm hit the wall. A blinding pain jolted through his body. He gasped, and breathed out slowly. When the pain subsided he sat on his bed and picked up the crisp envelope. When he opened the letter the paper cut deep into his finger. “Ouch!” He began to suck on the salty red fluid as he read the letter.
Andy,
I read your story. It was fantastic! I have a friend who will love to read it
I am going to send it to him! When he reads it, he will send a message
to you through e-mail of whatever that blasted internet thing is called.
I gave him the email address.
I have been begging for some time for your mother to bring you
down here. She has finally agreed. I cannot wait to see you
in a couple weeks!
Love, Grandma.
Andrew was grinning from ear to ear by the time he finished reading the letter. He looked at the date at the top of the letter. The date read almost ten days earlier! What if her friend had e-mailed him?
Pulling out his iPhone Andrew wiped the rest of the blood onto his jeans, he typed in his password, 7878. When it unlocked, he clicked on the mail application. An icon at the bottom of the screen twirled. “Come on! Load you stupid piece of—” He caught himself before he said a foul word. His mom detested such language.
Finally, a download bar filled up. One message showed itself. It was from an Eric Jones. Andrew immediately pressed his sweaty thumb down onto the screen. He pulled his finger off the screen. While the message loaded, Andrew scrubbed the thumb print off using his green cotton shirt.
Once the greasy print had been wiped clean, he read the message.
Andrew Crey,
Your story is great! You are a very talented writer! Some day
you are surely to become a published author. How could you
not? I mean, your writing just flows so delicately. Yet so
abruptly! I hope that I may read more of your writing
some day in the near future.
Sincerely, Eric.
Andrew stared excitedly at the screen. A complete stranger had read his writing and liked it! A grin broke out across his face. Soon, he was grinning widely.
“Mom!” Andrew yelled as he sprinted from his room. He was careful not to hit his arm on the doorjamb.
“In the kitchen!” Anne yelled, her voice muffled by the many walls in the home. Andrew ran into the kitchen after he had slipped on one of the steps on the stairs and hit his good arm on the wall.
“Look at this?” Andrew handed his phone to her. Anne scanned the email. When she finished reading, her jaw dropped, and a smile creased the skin around her eyes.
“That’s amaz—” She was cut off by a small ding from the phone.
“Can I read that?” Andrew asked as he held out his clammy, shivering fingers. Anne scanned the email. A cold expression overtook her smiling face.
“No, I don’t want you to read it.” Anne said quietly. She slid her finger down the screen and pressed her thumb down. She went to the trash folder and deleted the message permanently. She obviously knew Andrew was smart and would read the message there.
She handed Andrew his phone back. “MOM!” He looked at her angrily. “Why would you do that?” Andrew shoved his phone into his pocket and stormed out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into his room. What had the message said? What if it had been from Eric? No, it couldn’t have been. His Mother would have let him read it, right?
He slammed his door and powered on his laptop. When the laptop was on, he launched the internet browser. When the home page loaded, he searched “how to find deleted emails.”
He checked answers from online forums for half an hour before giving up. The email was lost in the ever growing data scape called the internet. Andrew slid his finger across the track pad, making the cursor move up to the big bulbous x in the top right hand corner of the browser. Just as he was about to click down on the x, a message popped up in the bottom right hand corner. The message read, “You have received a message from an unknown—” That was where the box had run out of space for text.
Andrew clicked the box without thinking about viruses that could infect his black laptop. Andrew had forgotten about the e-mail. He only had the new email in mind.
“Come on,” Andrew said to the computer screen in hope that it would load faster. The internet browser complied. A silence hung about the room. It was ominous, but beautiful at the same time, that is, until Andrew read the short message on the screen.
The subject was stated, “Life or Death.”
The message struck a dark fear in him. “I will get you.”
Andrew gasped loudly as a new message appeared. The subject was the same, but the message was different. “I hate you.”
Emails rushed in, all of them filled with dark hatred. Finally one final message came in. It read, “Forgive me, for I have sinned.”
By the time the message ingrained itself in Andrew’s mind; he had tears streaming down his face. Water collected in the holes left from the iron. Andrew shook violently, almost like he had just been dunked in cold water.
“Mom!” Andrew said in an extremely shaky tone. He called again.
“Coming,” replied his mother’s muffled. Andrew stood from his office chair. He backed away from the desk and wiped his eyes with his bare palms.
Three swift knocks resounded on Andrew’s door. “C-come in.” Andrew stammered. When the door opened Andrew pointed his stiff, bruised arm to the laptop, “look.”
Anne walked to the laptop. She read quickly and said, “I am going to block this person.” she gritted her teeth. Just before she blocked the user, a new message came in.
“I hate you Andrew. You have been a bad boy, and you will pay for your sins. Go ahead, block me. I will get you. Soon death will have its way with you. See you soon, worm.”
“Thomas,” Anne whispered in fury. Andrew had heard it clear as a bell, right before he blacked out from blind panic.