summer has terrified him all year. it was never at the forefront of his mind no, he had buried himself in school. it wasn’t like him, staying after school studying, reading. he’d busy himself until the librarian would tell him it was time to leave or if he saw the sun setting. he had to be home by dark, that he knew. but he also knew it didn’t matter. that the house was as empty of a shell as it was in the light of day as the dead of night. and he dreaded it. now with eight hours of distraction GONE from his schedule, he felt as though he were standing before an empty void. but he was still determined, more than anything. his fear and terror turning into an anger that fueled him.
the plans that bill made were concrete. and starting tomorrow, they’d begin their OWN investigation NO MATTER how many rebuttals and hesitations he heard. they were going to the barrens, they were going to search ALL DAY, possibly everyday. he’d get sunburn before he’d go home, not eat all day, and return only when exhaustion would have his face planting instantly into his pillow. a place to sleep, that’s what HOME was. and as he watched his friends peel off, heading into their own homes bill felt himself slow.
he could’ve been home five times faster if he rode. and he was truly known for his speed. but now, he felt as though he were dragging cinder-blocks tied to his ankles. prolonging his time away from those four walls. envious, he was when he saw each of his friends eagerly head into their houses. sure they each had their own reasons for not finding HOME hospitable, but ever since george, bill felt as though his house were a ghost.
there was no engagement, no spark from his parents. every time he entered the house he allowed himself time and time again to eagerly approach his mom. ‘ hey mom, how are you ?? ’ hoping, praying that this was DIFFERENT. that today she’d look at him. and every time, he was denied. his father was worse, coming home, and they’d both veg out in the living room. some MINDLESS program keeping their own minds from drifting. sometimes bill felt invisible, sometimes he felt that his parents blamed him, so they IGNORED HIM. sometimes he felt that they too had died that day.
and it had been that way for months. so terrible that bill didn’t expect anything differently anymore. and that’s why his feet slowed as he reached his street. he just stood there, hands sweating underneath the june sun. even for maine it still felt warm, but his sweat came more from the doom he felt in his heart. there was nowhere for him to go now, no school in the morning, no study hall to take up the hours between. for bill even with how HORRIBLE school still was, at least it was better than the silence at home.
but eventually he couldn’t keep himself away from his house. silver’s front tire rode up against the entry for the driveway, and it was done. his heart burned in his chest as he leaned silver up against the garage, his breath coming in frequent gasps. into the house, he made a point to close the door louder than he should’ve. BEFORE, his mother was incessant on him not slamming the door. he stood still for a second, nothing. the quiet creaking, the dust on his mother’s piano, the soft murmurings from HSN prattering about on some hair products.
no. he couldn’t take it. no, his bag slid down his arms, but he couldn’t feel it. and he could SEE his mother from here, but she didn’t even look at him. his eyes trailed around the house, and settled on george’s room, the door closed. in a PERFECT world, he would be running out to greet him, ‘ BILLY !! BILLY YOU’RE HOME !! ’ elementary school got out an hour early, his mom picked him up since it was farther but not far enough for a bus. but there was no greeting, and bill couldn’t FACE this yet. his mind hummed with drifting thoughts, and he turns, opening the door once again into the world outside.
it slams louder, this time but even bill doesn’t hear it. he runs to his bike, fumbling as he settles himself atop it and he pedals out of the driveway. he pedals down the street, towards the center of town and pedals more. his calves burn with exertion, but pushes them further. a wetness falls down his cheek, but it’s wiped away by the SPEED he reaches. he stood up as he reached the top of chestnut street, and leaned forward, the wind tearing at his face. and there were cars coming to and fro about their business, but bill didn’t slow. his friends said he looked as if he were trying to beat the devil, and it was true. the devil inside himself, the devil inside his PARENTS, inside his own house. and as his lungs threatened to burst inside his body, he stopped suddenly.
he could feel the closeness of his own spirit, of georgie’s. whoever, whatever sick fuck took him away. he’d kill him himself, he’d cut off HIS HEAD, and drop it in front of his parent’s stupid faces. they couldn’t ignore that, or him then !! resolute and reforged in his haste, he felt emboldened. his grief and anger he’d swallowed down all year to benefit others, his parents, and friends SWELLED to the front. he had never wanted to kill something, or anyone before. but god, he wanted to now, exacting what he felt was JUSTICE for his little brother who couldn’t fight back. there was a time to live, and a time to die. bill would accomplish NOTHING by running himself into traffic, no. he had to first get this fucker, get him so no one else could DIE again. his knuckles burn white on his handlebars, and he thinks on returning home. not a chance in hell, he thought. home was behind him, just a place to sleep.