Chapter 4A Chapter by SamBug
I barely slept that night. When I got home, I set my keys down on the counter, said good night to my parents and went into my old bedroom. It still looked the same as it did the last time I stayed at home.
Black. Everything just black. The walls. The bed spread. The curtains. Hanging on the walls were a few posters of Michael Jordan, Lebron James, and Kobe Bryant. Basketball legends in my eyes.
By my excessively large bed stood a night table with lamp that failed to turn on for a while now. To the right of that lamp was my alarm clock. The time read, in bold, red, numbers: 11:32. That time just blinked at me, illuminating the picture frame that I used to love staring at before I went to bed.
It was of Kate and me. She stood with a giant smile on her face, wearing a goofy, purple winter hat to keep her ears warm. Her golden curls hung down passed her shoulders like they always did.
I clung to her body from behind her, my lips pressed tightly to her cheek. The gleam in Kate’s eyes said everything. How in love we were. How close we were. Our plans, our thoughts, our future.
Her beautiful, baby blue eyes stared at me through that frame. Except now, instead of saying “I love you,” they were saying, “It’s your fault.”
I slammed the frame face down onto the night table and plopped down onto my mattress. My body fit perfectly. My heart still felt heavy, dragging down all the way to my stomach. And suddenly I felt sick feeling my stomach turn as fast and as hard as it was.
Quickly, I jumped out of my bed and sprinted to the upstairs bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I threw up everything I had eaten in probably the past month. The taste of bile, so sour and so bitter, caused me to gag even more and when I finally finished, I sat back against the bathtub, banging my head up against the solid, white until I felt dizzy.
Eventually, I found myself disappearing into my bedroom, groggily undressing and laying back down in my bed. I tried to sleep but every time I shut my eyes, Kate’s face appeared, jumping out to me. Lashing out. But it wasn’t just Kate. She always seemed to be paler than I remember. Her eyes, black and full of hate, stared straight into my soul. I could tell she was dead when I saw her face.
So the whole night, I resorted to staring up at the boring, blank ceiling. I tried to put on some music but every song reminded me of Kate.
Kate. Kate. Kate Kate Kate. All Kate. Even the ceiling vaguely reminded me of her because after we finished making love to each other, we would both stare up at the ceiling and just talk.
I felt like a victim from A Nightmare on Elm Street and I was the restless victim trying to stay away from sleep and Kate was Freddy, out for revenge. Except she wasn’t going to kill me. Oh no. She just wanted to torture me.
Are you happy Kate? It worked. One day after your funeral and I’m miserable.
I’m sure I finally drifted eventually because last time I looked at the clock it read 3:21 and when I opened my eyes again, the sun shone brightly through my room, every ray blasting on my face and the clock read 10:02. At least I got some sleep. Yet I still felt restless.
A clanging noise echoed through my room which was my cue to get up and make something out of myself.
My parents were never big on letting me lay around like a bum. My high school life consisted of school, basketball, housework, homework, and a part time job on the side. I don’t know how I even had time for friends but somehow I managed.
When I sat up, the whole room was light. The curtains sat nicely to the side, allowing the sun to actually come in. Slightly annoyed, I realized that I still felt sick, luckily not as sick as the night before. I couldn’t take anymore throwing up and restless nights.
Slowly, I fumbled my way down the stairs and into the kitchen where my parents sat together. Dad held the newspaper up to his face, slowly eating a piece of bacon here or there. He wore a black suit, everything neatly in its place without a wrinkle.
His navy blue tie, tightly around his neck, hung down his shirt perfectly, making him look just as he had every day of my life: Professional and important.
Mom, in her long pencil skirt and heels, stood by the sink scrubbing away at a non-stick pan, mumbling a few insulting things to the grease that refused to come off. I wondered why she was there in stead of Sonya, the housekeeper. She turned and looked at me, letting a faint smile cross her face.
“Shouldn’t you two be at work already? You’re never home at this time,” I pointed out.
Dad still didn’t put down the paper.
“We wanted to make sure you were okay. You looked a little pale last night,” mom noted.
I sat at the small kitchen table and grabbed a piece of bacon but I didn’t really eat it. I just turned it around in my hand, watching the greasy brown crisp sizzle.
“Justin, honey,” mom said, taking a seat by me. “You’re welcome to stay here for a while until you can move passed this. We wouldn’t mind watching over you.”
“Mom, I’m twenty-three years old. I don’t need you to take care of me,” I snapped, dropping the bacon.
“Justin,” Dad scolded.
I apologized but mom still seemed a little shocked at my sudden change in attitude. Yet, she still patted my hand and shared one of her smiles with me.
“I think I’m just going to drive home this morning. Hannah is expecting me tonight and I need to get back at searching for a job,” I said.
“I don’t understand how hard it is to find a job with a degree in criminal justice,” Dad said.
To anyone else who didn’t know my dad, this would sound like a bit of encouragement. But because I knew my dad, I knew this was an insult. Cops. The Law. Dad wasn’t fond of that. In fact, he told me I would be wasting my time.
“Eric, now isn’t the time,” mom pleaded but dad already started and once he started, he wouldn’t stop.
“I’m just saying that majoring in business would have been much more worth your while. What are you going to be doing? Carrying a gun, chasing bad guys, putting your life in danger? And for what? A low pay and a lonely life. Hannah isn’t going to stick around long, Justin. She needs security.”
“I can give her that,” I mumbled. “I will be in law enforcement.”
Dad shook his head, a smug smirk resting on his face comfortably. “Sure. But you can’t give her the things she wants. You know her parents. She won’t be used to small homes and takeout for dinner.”
“Why can’t you ever accept me for what I am?” I questioned.
“We do,” mom assured me.
“Because you’ve never lived up to your true potential. You could have what I have. Money. A large house. A job people would kill for---”
“I don’t want to be you!” I screamed, standing up from the table and letting the chair fall to the ground behind me.
Mom flinched and then quickly got up to pick it up off the ground. She reached out for me but I immediately pushed her hand away, still staring at my dad who continued to sit unmoving.
“I don’t need your help and I don’t need your money!” I screamed.
“You’re damn right you don’t need our money! And you won’t see a scent of it,” Dad warned me.
“Please, Eric. He just lost Kate,” mom pleaded.
“No,” I backed away, towards the doorway. “That’s where you’re wrong. I lost Kate a long time ago. So don’t bring her into this. Don’t bother calling.”
Then I left without a second glance.
© 2011 SamBug
Added on July 7, 2011
Last Updated on July 7, 2011
AboutOkay... So these things are always hard to fill out but I suppose I'm going to try to describe me as best as possible. My name is Sam. Some people call me Sammy poo, Sam Bug, or simply Sam Loo. I'm .. more..
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