Kinetic World: Chapter 9

Kinetic World: Chapter 9

A Chapter by Prototato

For half of the night, I merely lay beneath the blankets, heat gathering underneath. I got warm very easily, and still do, so eventually I began to sweat. I grew anxious that the sweat would leave a stench and I would be discovered that I grew anxious which, of course, raised the temperature beneath the blanket pile. It was a vicious cycle that grew and grew until I could no longer take it, pouring sweat beneath the blankets. I crawled out from under them silently, breathing deeply in a vain attempt to relax and calm myself down. I mindlessly took off my shirt and stuffed it into my bag, The cool night air wafting in through the window felt amazing on my salty and soaked skin, especially under my shirt and pants, whereupon further heat congregated. I took one last deep breath, and I felt calmer.
Slightly calmer, that is.
It still did me no good to look at the clock and notice the time being 2:54 in the morning. I shook my head, and decided to creep around to get a solid layout of the house. I found the kitchen, bathroom, stairs, and the bedrooms, which were closed. I nearly laughed out of sheer relief at the observation, and felt calmer about moving around silently. I went back to the stack of blankets and grabbed my bag. It felt heavier than I remembered it being; probably because I hadn’t slept in awhile. I looked around at the counters, not finding any food out. I walked to the front door, and tried to open it.
A loud squeal made me nearly jump out of my skin. I released the knob, and it made a kthwang noise. I tried turning it again, and I got the same result. I nearly screamed.
I looked around frantically, the situation finally hitting me.
I was in a stranger’s house with odd abilities who may or may not want to kill me. They were around my age, which made it even more socially awkward, and their parents were asleep upstairs. They had no idea whatsoever that I was here, and I looked like a miserable wreck; I might as well have been homeless at that point.
Social anxiety, stress, and depression hit me like a locomotive, and I nearly fell down. I grabbed my head and my stomach, headache and stomach cramps working in perfect sync with one another. My whole body tensed, and my muscles were already sore. I began to sweat again, and my throat was dry and sore from dehydration. I went upstairs as quietly as I could, going to Kat’s room.
Which room is hers? I thought.
I nearly put my head through the wall. Then, of course, my powers kicked in and made a dent in the door I was standing closest to, bang and splintering noises echoing throughout the hallway. My eyes nearly bulged out of my head, and I nearly keeled over, the anxiety attack kicking into full gear. I stumbled into the bathroom, which was luckily unoccupied, and I grabbed the shower curtain for balance.
I wound up ripping the curtain rod off, and upon it clanging to the floor, I heard someone say, “Is… Is that you, Damien?”
It wasn’t Kat.
I looked around frantically, and I saw one of the doors open.
It was the door that splintered. When Kat’s mom looked at it, she screamed which, inevitably, woke up Kat and the anxiety attack doubled. I began to have convulsions in my upper torso and left eyelid. I grabbed my hair, nearly pulling it out, and looked harder than I’d ever looked before for a hiding place. Kat bolted out of her room and must have caught a glimpse of me, wide-eyed, messy haired, and in just a pair of pants.
We made temporary eye contact, and realized exactly what her mom would think.
I released an audible whimper and Kat, to her credit, somehow managed to keep a cool head.
“What was that, Kat? Was that a gunshot?”
“Gosh, I hope not. I don’t see any other damage; maybe it wasn’t…”
“Well, how did my door splinter?”
I could tell she would strangle me when this was all over. She made a slight gesture for me to look behind myself, and I turned around. The bathroom window was open. I facepalmed, and turned to climb out.
Of course, I was shaking so much that I fell out of the window. I yelled in pain and anxiousness, then quickly covered my mouth.
“Oh my god! Cat, get the gun out of my room! I’ll go see who the hell is on the side of the house.”
I nearly s**t myself.
I scrambled to get up and, of course, my left ankle was sprained. I had to limp to the backyard. That’s when I realized that there was no fence. I would be vulnerable to everyone and everything in just my tattered pants.
And then I realized my duffel bag was still in the bathroom.
I heard someone c**k a shotgun. My eyes bulged; I noticed a patio nearby, and since it was still early, nobody else should be awake. I scrambled under it, and tried to calm myself. The stomach cramps were crippling, and I was shaking so much that I couldn’t even hold my hands together. I heard footsteps above me, and I wanted to scream, “Oh, COME ON!”
I didn’t and just waited, silently screaming inside. I felt something rub up against my leg, and regretfully, I looked down.
A goddamn raccoon was climbing into my lap. I froze, aside from my twitching muscles. I looked around frantically as it curled up in my lap. I hated the fact that animals seemed naturally inclined to like me, and heard, “WHAT’S GOING ON, LYNDA? I HEARD A GUNSHOT!”
“BURGLARS IN MY HOUSE!”, Kat’s mom yelled back.
I wanted to put my head through the stairs to my immediate right.
I heard her dial the number on her phone and looked at the raccoon in my lap, then at the stairs, then at the open space outside. I twitched involuntarily, and the raccoon jumped. It settled right back down, and I made ‘shoo’ gestures. I would have thought it was cute had I not been risking my life trying to get my introverted a*s out of another awkward social situation.
I made a move to get up, and the raccoon hung on with it’s claws. My eyes bulged, and I hissed and huffed through my teeth. I gently pried it off and crouched, the ‘coon still rubbing up against my leg. I heard the patio door shut and talking on the other side, and literally launched myself back to where I was before, noting Kat’s mom going around the opposite side of the house. I looked back.
The patio was burnt on the bottom and a couple of steps blew off, and the loud boom rang through the neighborhood. Several lights turned on, and I felt like puking in the shrubbery on the side of Kat’s house was my only option at the time.
After the deed was done, I wiped my mouth with my arm, which I then wiped in my pants. I groaned quietly.
Then, I saw Lat giving me the death stare. I shrugged, and she made a swirling motion with her finger, mouthing something. She pointed down the road.
I had no idea what she meant until I heard police sirens.
I ran up to her. “You live right down the road from the POLICE STATION!?” I whispered frantically. She smacked me across the face, and a flash of rage came over me. It dies down, and I was half-tempted to do the same to her.
“Did you find them?” Kat’s mom shouted.
“Not yet!” She yelled back. She gave me a look of pure evil and pointed at the door. “My mom is going around the back of the house,” she whispered, “so you better get your stuff and go. I’ll meet you at the park.”
I ran in, ran upstairs, grabbed my duffel bag, and ran back down.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Kat asked.
“I heard someone using the stairs. I know I did.”
“No way he could have gotten past me.”
“I’ll check to be sure.”
I wanted to pull my hair out even more, and the brief relief of anxiety was brought out in the back and shot. It came back worse than ever. I noticed that there was a small compartment under the stairs. I looked at it, and knew I wouldn’t fit. I ran back upstairs, where I finally saw Kat’s room. No time to inspect it; I slid under the bed in record time, dragging the bag with me.
“See? You didn’t hear anything.”
“I could have sworn…”
“Well, ma’am, looks like everything’s fine. Thanks for calling; always like to keep the mayor safe.”
I hoped to god that was a joke.
Of course I knew it wasn’t.
“Thank you, Brad. Tom. You guys tell the warden of a boss you’ve got over there that I say you get the day off; sorry for wasting your time.”
“Not a problem, Lynda.”
I heard tires squealing shortly after. Next, footsteps up the stairs; only seemingly one set of them. According to the clock on my 3DS, it was now 4:27 am.
I had experienced an extreme anxiety attack for damn near an hour and a half.
I heard Kat walk back into her room, and I made a small explosion near the bottom of the bed. I heard a frustrated scream, and I flew out from under the bed, smashing into the wall.
“F*****G HELL!” I shouted.
“What the F**K IS WRONG WITH YOU!”
“Ever wake up inside a stranger’s house, homeless, as an introvert?”
“That’s beside the point, you dumbass.”
“Sticks and stones.”
“Would you shut it.”
“I would, but I seemed to have lost the key.”
“You’re an a*****e.”
“And you’re lucky you didn’t go through what I went through.”
“And what is that? How can that be worse than lying to your parent?”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe it was waking up afraid as hell, going upstairs to try to find the only person I know relatively well to find two shut doors, a 50/50 chance to knock on the wrong door and get into deep s**t, only to run to the bathroom after anxiously blowing a chunk off of a door with a loud boom, to be followed up by falling two stories onto solid ground and running under ANOTHER stranger’s porch, to be laid on by a F*****G WILD RACCOON, then try and shake off the little bugger, claws and all, while figuring out a way to avoid the GODDAMN POLICE, all the while running on about 2 hours of sleep and having a severe anxiety attack which, mind you, is still going on!”
She gave me a blank stare, and I flew into the door.
“You deserved that for being so stupid.”
“You’re pretty.”
“You’re hurt in the head.”
“You’re the one that threw me into a wall and a door.”
She giggled a little, then made herself stop.
“You know what that looked like, right?”
“I’m a teenage boy. Nope. Never crossed my mind.”
“At least you get sarcasm.”
“At least I didn’t get us both into deep s**t.”
We stayed there, me slumped against the door and her now sitting on the edge of her bed for awhile.
“My mom went to work.”
“Yeah. I gathered that much.”
“Oh, and the F*****G MAYOR. Couldn’t have mentioned that, huh? Made me vomit from anxiety.”
“No way.”
I guided her to the window, where the mess was still visible.
“Pfft. Lying to your parents is bad…”
“Can… I get you something?”
“Maybe some bleach for this never-ending anxiety attack. Introvert with social anxiety.”
“Ah, you’d be missed.”
“Only thing I’d be missed by at this point is the train I won’t be jumping in front of.”
She shook her head. “You know, I can tell you have a crush on me.”
“No s**t, sherlock. Not like I hinted at it a lot.”
“Yep. You don’t feel the same way; I tried to swear off love awhile ago.”
“But in the-”
“Overly happy; that’s why you hugged me. Never expect any compassion for myself.”
We both looked down, and I choked back the painful tears.
“Hey, uh…”
She looked up.
“Got any grapes?”
That little stunt cost me another smack into the wall, but I got a good laugh in return. She helped me up and we walked downstairs.

© 2017 Prototato

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Little Canada, MN

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