I ended up forgetting to include a very important fact here the first time I posted RP! It turns out that the story, in part, is inspired by a South Korean film called "The Call." I highly recommend watching it if you like horror and drama. It's even in the Netflix catalogue! I will also include this information in the first part and then in the third part.
I don't want to take too long here, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the comments you made! This always encourages me and makes me happy ☺️💖
Also thank you generously for your support @ryebread0605 😘
As always, english is not my native language. So I apologize if there are any errors.
WARNINGS: age difference, non-con, kidnapping, horror, mental breakdown, murder, forced pregnancy
The red phone rings at four o'clock in the afternoon.
Sitting at your desk doing your college homework, you put your notebook aside and answer the phone that was on the table.
“Hello, Floyd!” You greet him happily after answering the call.
“Hey, you seem excited.” He notes your good cheer, while he himself continues to use a more relaxed and meek tone. “Did anything good happen?”
“Almost that, yes.” You momentarily remember the night you spent with Ace, but as quickly as that thought came, you immediately pushed it aside. “But also because I’m glad you called me.”
“Hey, I told you, didn't I? Would call to find out more about the future.”
“Of course, I remember.” You respond complacently and with your other free hand pull the notebook back in front of your face. “What do you want to know?”
“Hmmm…” The boy seems thoughtful on the other end of the line, faced with the infinite possibilities. “Who is the most famous player in the NBA today?”
“Do you like basketball?” You ask, pressing the keys.
“Yeep~” Floyd states in a more humorous tone, indicating that you had hit the right spot. “I also play. It’s one of my favorite hobbies.”
“Do you think about playing professionally?”
“I've already thought about that, as I've thought about many other things. But I know it’s a matter of time before it gets boring.”
“Ah, I understand what this is. I consider myself someone who is adept at several things, but can easily get bored of them and move on to something else.” You say, remembering the various things you liked to watch or play, before simply putting them aside after they became repetitive, boring or after finding something much more interesting.
“Eehh~ you read my mind.” He agrees excitedly.
“Another coincidence, then.” You play around and then go on to read information about some of today's most famous players, listening to Floyd humming happily on the other end of the line. “What else do you want to know?”
“About Jade.” He responds immediately. “What else did you find out about him?”
“In addition to what I said about him being a partner in that restaurant, there were many photos of natural landscapes. However, more specifically…”
“Mushrooms.” Floyd finishes his reasoning before you can finish it yourself. His annoyance on the other end of the line was noticeable in the tone of his voice full of disgust, as if each syllable of the word 'mushrooms' was already cursed in itself. “I thought this was just temporary"
“Let’s change the subject then.” You quickly think of an alternative, not wanting to ruin his good mood. “What kind of music do you like?”
“I like different styles, but lately I've been listening to some rock bands.”
“Cool, I like it too.” You say, and then a brilliant idea springs from your mind. “Tell me a band you like and I’ll show you a new song from them!”
"Serious? Hehehe!” Floyd seems ecstatic at the idea, laughing happily on the other end of the line. “It looks like we’re going to get along really well~”
You stayed talking to Floyd for over two hours, only hanging up when you told him you needed to study. He didn't seem happy about it, insisting that you continue talking about future events. However, you were firm in your decision and reassured him by saying that he could always call you the next day. Despite himself, the boy agreed because he couldn't force you to do anything. Floyd was just a voice from the past, after all.
The study, however, was a blatant lie. You had received a message from Ace on your digital cell phone, in which he asked you to go to a specific address to be together again. And now, with your mind a little more balanced without your hormones getting in the way of your reasoning, you weren't sure if you should do this.
A part of you felt quite dirty and a little guilty about having sex with a married man. To make matters worse, in the bed he shared with his wife for years. However, another part of you, that selfish and perverse part that existed in the darkest corner of your mind, felt terribly excited at the idea of meeting Ace in secret and spending quality time with him again.
It was so wrong and exactly for this why it was so good.
Ace had given you his word of a future divorce and you clung to that as a safe haven, to try and convince yourself that this wasn't as bad as it seemed.
You still pondered for a few minutes, before responding to him with an “ok” and stating that you would meet him in an hour.
Without wasting any more time, you took a shower, put on one of your best clothes and put on makeup in a simple way with just a reddish lipstick on your lips and dark shading. Not wanting to pamper yourself too much, you knew that later your makeup would be completely smudged for not very holy reasons.
When you went downstairs, your parents obviously asked where you were going all dressed up and your answer was to say that you would meet some friends, without an exact time to arrive. Your father was even kind enough to offer you a ride, but you immediately declined the offer, saying the meeting place was nearby.
After walking a few meters to trick your parents, you had to call an Uber to take you to the address. It wasn't a surprise when you realized the meeting place was at a motel.
You got out of the car and immediately saw Ace in front of the establishment, waving at him.
“Wow, you look beautiful.” He is surprised to see you, taking a long and blatant look from top to bottom, for a moment focusing on the neckline that left part of your breasts exposed, before looking back at your face.
"Thanks." You respond shyly and feel your cheeks heat up, clearly having a weakness for sincere compliments. “Can we go in soon? I don’t want someone I know to see me.” You look around worriedly, immediately wrapping your hands around Ace's arm to pull him towards the motel's glass door.
“Wow, someone is really in a hurry.” Ace mocks with a mischievous smile, still standing in the same place like a statue. He just moves to wrap arms around your body and pull her against his chest. You shiver when you feel the redhead warm breath against the sensitive skin of your ear. “Was our fuck the other day that good?” Ace whispers mischievously, his husky voice giving you awkward sensations.
However, the trigger for your face to explode red is when you feel a suggestive pinch on your ass. “Stop playing with me!” You scream, even though you weren't really angry, but rather embarrassed.
You move away from him and stamp your foot on the ground, upset by Ace's cluelessness. He was the one who should be most worried about being discovered or recognized by someone. Instead, here was Trappola, mocking your caution and messing with you to boot.
“Hahaha. Okay, okay.” He raises his hands up in surrender, but still laughing at your energetic reaction. “I promise I’ll behave.”
It was an obvious lie, but you still believe him.
Without further ado from Ace, he affectionately wraps a hand around your waist and walks with you into the establishment. The receptionist who was inside, behind a marble counter, takes a long and not at all discreet look at the two of you, visibly judging the obvious age difference. It didn't help that you looked more like a sixteen-year-old teenager than a twenty-year-old adult.
“Did you see the way that woman looked at us?” Ace asks in the middle of the room corridors after making payment and receiving the key.
“She was probably thinking about whether or not she should call the police.” You joked, giving a lighthearted laugh.
Ace snorted in annoyance at the joke, but he soon followed up his morally dubious humor with a chuckle as he looked at you.
“It’s here.” He says as he observes that the label glued to the key had the same number as the door, unlocking it and gesturing for you to do the honors of entering. “Ladies first.” Ace winks in amusement and you innocently fall for his joke, before walking through the door and feeling a second pinch on your ass.
“Ahh!” You let out a scream of surprise, but quickly composed yourself as you made an annoyed expression and turned to face Ace, who was laughing behind you like a stupid teenager. “You said you would behave.”
“Of course, but that’s outside.” He enters the room and locks the door behind him. “There’s no one else here for you to be scared of, right?” He asks in a whisper full of cynicism, as he slowly approaches you.
“Don't make fun of my face!" You scream, pretending to be angry to try and hide the embarrassment that spread across your face.
Ace was a damn smartass who wouldn't keep quiet until someone shut him up. And, apparently, you had no choice but to be that “someone.”
Going on the attack, you grab his shirt and pull him towards you, silencing him with a sudden kiss before another provocation leaves your lips. Ace seems surprised at first, but kisses back by opening his mouth and allowing both tongues to meet.
The warm kiss only lasts a few seconds before you pull away from Trappola and ask him to sit on the bed, who promptly does so with a palpable expectation of what you would do next.
Although you were shy at first, you need to swallow this feeling reluctantly to get closer to him and bend your body until you were close to the redhead's ear: “Take off your belt."
As expected, Ace did so quickly and let him fall to the ground, opening his legs in anticipation of what would happen in a few seconds. He stares at you with obvious longing, biting his lower lip as he waits patiently for you to make your next move.
Without wasting time, you kneel in front of Trappola and take your inexperienced hands to the fly of his pants. When you open it, Ace slightly lifts his hips so you can pull down his pants along with his white underwear with a heart print.
A giggle escapes your lips and you decide that you couldn't let this opportunity pass you by. “Little hearts? How cute." You scoff, feeling refreshed when you notice the blush that immediately appears on Ace's cheeks.
Revenge has never been so sweet.
You bring your mouth closer to his already half-hard cock and give Ace's glans a short lick. This one, who couldn't help but notice her pink lips as they approached the tip of his cock, the small and simple touch was able to make him let out a small sigh. He imagines beforehand, how your little mouth wrapped around his dick, would be so perfect to relieve him.
You slowly start to shelter Trappola's penis and taste it more intensely, realizing that the taste wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. A little more relaxed in light of this fact, you close your eyes and begin to make initially slow movements back and forth, only sucking half of his length. Of course you had never done that in your entire life, but at least you were aware that you shouldn't use your teeth under any circumstances. That had to be worth something.
Ace closes his eyes and subtly throws his head up when he feels that half of his member has been sheltered. And it got even better with those back and forth movements you started to make. Although slow, they were like a massage on his penis.
You looked up and enjoyed seeing him being so resigned, completely at the mercy of your whims. You also loved hearing him moan, and as much as Ace's beautiful sighs were similar to a beautiful symphony to your ears, you longed to hear more.
With that thought in mind, you used your tongue to focus on the most sensitive point, licking the glans greedily and from this action feeling a salty liquid in your mouth, which you identified as pre-cum. Your back and forth movements also became a little faster than normal, which made you get what you wanted as soon as the redhead's moans intensified.
You were doing your best not to interrupt the blowjob, but you weren't yet experienced enough to be able to breathe through your nose and suck Ace so eagerly. Inevitably, after a few seconds, you had to separate your lips from the redhead's cock to take a few sips of air.
“Don’t stop.” Ace dictates with the heavy breathing.
You quickly understand that it wasn't a request, but rather an order when he abruptly grabs your hair to bring you back towards his cock, forcing the entire length down your throat in a single thrust inside.
Poor, foolish thing you were, who mistakenly thought were in control of the situation.
You patted Ace's knee to make him let go of his head, but he wasn't paying attention, or was simply categorically ignoring you. Definitely the latter, as he starts to force his dick down your throat several times.
As you choked on his penis, Ace let moans and sighs louder than the previous ones escape your mouth, revealing the pleasure he felt in an explicit and exclusive way for you. And realizing that there was no way to get his dick out of your mouth without making him cum first, you have no choice but to try to relax your own throat so you can take him in.
Lost amidst thoughts of lust, possession and desire, Ace had nothing to complain about. The speed was incredibly perfect, frantic, and his tongue made the right movements to make him intoxicated to the point of disconnecting from the world and just moaning more and more, muffled but still loud. The redhead could feel that he was getting closer and closer to the peak, all through that inexperienced and delicious little mouth of you.
Holding his bottom lip with his teeth, Ace allows himself to melt into the mouth that he has come to love even more. Such pleasure is felt by the redhead, that he feels his vision become slightly blurred and dark, letting those fantastic spasms grace every cell of his body.
You swallow every drop of his semen, completely unwillingly. It wasn't horrible, but it was far from good. And after using your throat as a cum dump, Ace lets go of your hair and you finally free yourself from his cock, moving away from it and breathing heavily, tired after all that exercise you had done with your mouth.
“Ace, you’re an asshole.” You cursed him after normalizing your breathing, visibly upset. “Did you want to choke me with your dick?”
“Hey, I will reward you.” Ace smiles suspiciously gently, before grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into a kiss, not seeming to care about the taste of himself present in your mouth.
You feel like biting him as a form of revenge, but end up giving up because you do not want to break a contact as intimate and pleasant as that.
“Now it’s my turn.” Ace says seductively after breaking the kiss, licking his lower lip in clear provocation.
Oh, heavens, you were going to hell because of this man.
Floyd called you at two o'clock the next day, with just one more day to go until his probable death.
“Have you fixed the bike yet?” It was the first thing you said after answering the call.
“You’re not going out with her tomorrow, are you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay at home all day.” He soothes. “The only way I could end up dying in my own house is if a meteor hit it.”
“Be careful, okay?” You ask, afraid that something else might happen. “I really don’t want you to get hurt.”
“You’re so cute, worrying about someone you barely know.”
"Really? I don’t think that, I consider you a friend.” You admit it honestly.
“Eeehh, so you called yourself my friend without my consent?” The boy lets out a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Bad girl.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You speak awkwardly, the regret of your own words knocking on the door. Maybe it was too early to put a title on the relationship you had with the voice on the other end.
“Hehe, you took my joke too seriously.” Floyd comments relaxedly after noticing how worried you seemed. “I’m just kidding, kidding.”
“Phew.” A sigh of relief leaves your lips.
“Nee, nee~ what do you think will happen when the future changes?” Floyd asks, excited about the possibilities. “Do you think you’ll still be living on here?”
“Hard to say. But if your parents only moved because of the tragedy, then they will probably still be here.” You comment, not thinking much about it at first. “And me, well, in my old house or somewhere else. That's what I think at the moment, changes in the past can cause infinite possibilities in the future or even a time lapse, who knows…
“Boring~” Floyd grumbles. “You’re a nerd.”
“I’m not a nerd.” You defend yourself, outraged by the boy's derogatory comment. “I just love time travel movies. You never watched-…”
Your words die in your throat, a sudden, silent astonishment that makes you pale from one second to the next.
You finally realize that realizing an alternate future would mean never meeting Ace. Even the memories of the two of you together could be erased from his mind, as if they had never occurred. And in fact, they wouldn't happen.
From the beginning you knew that things could change and you hadn't cared so much about it, but now it was different. Maybe you didn't love he yet, but you definitely felt something for him that went beyond physical attraction, even before you had sex with Ace.
“Hey, you okay? You were suddenly quiet.” Floyd asks, his tone showing genuine concern.
“I need to hang up, sorry.”
You don't give Floyd enough time to ask why, before quickly hanging up the phone on him. You would apologize later, especially now that the boy would have all the time in the world to live a happy and comfortable life, at the expense of his memories with Ace.
Wait, were you really starting to regret possibly saving a life, just because of a passion that would predictably, one time or another, go wrong?
When you realize this, you feel even worse. It wasn't right to choose between the two, but here you were, which in the most disgusting part of your core you were rooting for, practically praying, that the next day nothing would change, even if it meant never getting any calls from your friend Floyd again.
You shake your head in denial, hating your own thoughts. It was still better to let go of his unspecified relationship with the redhead than to let someone die out of pure selfishness.
You weren't like that, you didn't want to be like that.
You drop the red phone on your desk and decide to leave the house to get some fresh air, convinced that this could clear your mind.
You were sleeping when the red phone rang at midnight.
Groggy with sleep, you struggle to get up from your warm and cozy bed, walking towards the desk where your phone rested.
you catch him, but don't answer. Possessing the knowledge that it must be that strange voice, it is your preference to not want to talk to him anymore after the incident with the doll.
“If you keep going, he’ll come get you.”
You remember the warning she gave and an unpleasant sensation rises throughout your bone marrow. You immediately decline the call and place the phone on the table again, returning to bed.
The moment your head hits the pillow, that's when that damn device resonates again. Annoyed, but also afraid, you get up again and this time open the back of the phone to remove the battery from inside, aware that this way no one else could disturb your rest or test your sanity.
You rest both objects on the surface of the desk and turn your back to go back to sleep, thus having a wonderful night's sleep without any further interruptions.
That would be the case, if the ringing of that cursed telephone hadn't resounded through the room again.
Your breath comes out ragged in sudden astonishment and your eyes widen in clear terror, remaining stagnant in place with nothing but the most genuine feeling of fear, almost as if that old device would swallow you whole if you dared to face it again.
Fearfully, you turn around, finding nothing more than the red phone itself continually beeping. Next to it, the battery that was supposed to stop it working when removed, but apparently not serving its purpose.
There were no monsters on here, but your terror doesn't calm down when you notice your bedroom window is open. And you don't remember leaving her like that.
You swallow hard and approach the window, looking through it to see if someone was snooping around your house. Luckily, finding nothing more than just the emptiness of the night.
You quickly walk away and close the window. In addition to locking it, cover the windows with the blind.
Turning your attention to the phone that continues to ring incessantly, from inside your wardrobe you take out a sweatshirt and use it to wrap the object, then storing it inside one of the desk drawers.
You go back to bed and try to ignore the muffled ringing, which persists for the rest of the night.
Although you searched the internet for more information about his death, the time of the accident had not been specified, only the date and how it occurred. You could just wait for the boy's phone call or simply for an alternative time, in which you would end up waking up in your old house and perhaps with no memories of any of it.
Honestly, a phone call was much more desirable, despite the scare you experienced the night before because of it.
However, it is better to forget about past events and start checking your window every night before going to sleep, or you would become paranoid. In the end, a phone working even without a battery wasn't even as bizarre as the idea of talking to someone from the past.
Your digital cell phone rings with a message notification and you realize it's from Ace, who once again asked you to meet him, this time at his house. You are quick to respond.
2:14 PM
Ace: She's at her parents' house with Alice. We can spend some time alone, what do you think?
14h14 PM
Shouldn't you be working?
2:15 PM
Ace: Day off, baby
14h15 PM
It's okay then. I'll be there in thirty minutes
2:16 PM
But be quick to open the door when I ring the doorbell! My parents can't see me coming into your house >.<
A huge smile adorns your lips and you let out small laughs of happiness, ecstatic at the idea of being able to see him one last time before the weather probably changes.
But maybe you would still receive some calls from Floyd, so it would be appropriate to take the red phone with you to Ace's house. So, you do it, placing it inside a small black bag next to your digital cell phone.
You dress up in an average way so as not to arouse suspicion and then go downstairs, telling your mother that you were going to the library to study a little. Believing your lie, she just tells you to take care of yourself and releases you without any questions.
You walk through the front door, before checking to make sure your mother isn't close behind and running to the other side of the street. You ring the bell at the redhead's house, and it doesn't take him more than five seconds to open the door for you.
“I feel like I’m committing a crime.” You say in an amused tone, quickly stepping inside his house and feeling less alert the moment you hear him close the door.
“I missed you.” Ace states as he places both hands on your waist, inducing you to turn around and face him.
“It hasn’t even been that long since we were last together.” You refer to the day at the motel, involving your arms circling around Ace's neck. He leans in to press his lips to yours and you close your eyes in anticipation, receiving a gentle, loving peck. It takes a lot of your self-control not to give in when the redhead brushes his tongue against your lower lip, because you knew that he clearly already had ulterior motives in wanting to spice up that kiss. You would end up in his bed again, if you weren't more cunning than that naught guy. And although it was a really tempting idea, you didn't want all your romantic moments with him to be summed up just in sex, especially this moment, which could be your last. Therefore, you push him away by, gently pushing his chest and taking distance from his lips, looking him directly in the eyes. “Can we just watch a movie or something?”
Ace looks surprised at first, almost disappointed. But he's quick to cover it up, by softening his expression and giving you a smile so you wouldn't notice, even though it was a little late.
“Okay, fine.” Ace removes his hands from your waist, but he doesn't move away. Quite the contrary, the older man wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding your to the sofa. “It’s not like I’m just with you for the sex.”
Although in a joking tone, the comment opens a hole in your head, making you wonder if that was precisely why he was with you.
A young, childless and disciplined girl.
In the middle of a scorching desert, you were like an oasis for Ace.
No, it wasn't the time to think that. You should enjoy the time you had left with him, poking this hornet's nest inside your mind was by far a stupid idea.
You sit on the couch, snuggled up against each other. Ace reaches for the controller on the coffee table and chooses a movie that he finds interesting enough that neither of you end up falling asleep.
Little by little, as the minutes of the film go on, you come to appreciate the moment of intimacy and your worries are quickly put aside. Every now and then Ace takes a strand of your hair to curl between his fingers, and if not that, he's stroking the top of your head in a gentle, affectionate stroke.
Although the content of the film is interesting, you can't fight the sleep that creeps into your mind. The previous night's poor sleep is one of the main reasons for this, but it doesn't help being so comfortably close to Ace, with your head resting on his shoulder.
In the end, both reasons are the right recipe for you to fall asleep.
You wake up by yourself after a few hours, for a moment disoriented about where you were and whether the time had already changed, until you realize that the ceiling you were looking at was Ace house and not your old house.
You notice that you are lying on the couch, without the redhead by your side.
“Ace?” You get up from the upholstery and raise your voice to call his name. Upon his call, it doesn't take more than a few seconds for him to appear at the kitchen door. "What time is it?" You ask worried, both because you know you can't get home too late, and because the redhead's wife could arrive at any moment.
“Damn, I slept for almost three hours!?” You ask in a daze and quickly pull your digital cell phone out of your bag, seeing that there were some messages from your mother and three missed calls.
“You looked pretty tired.” The redhead says as he approaches you “Studying late?”
“More or less that.” You omit the truth. He would never believe that ridiculous story about talking to someone from the past. “I’m sorry, Ace.” You say, feeling guilty for not spending enough time with him. “I would like to stay with you, but now I need to go back or my mother will kill me.”
“Okay, we can be together next time.”
I don't know if we'll have one next time.
You think, still afraid of the possibility of forgetting him.
But Ace, oblivious to your problems, removes those thoughts from your mind — albeit temporarily — by getting close enough so he can press his lips to yours. Unlike the first time, you accept him willingly when he tries to intensify the kiss.
The contact of both tongues intertwining in an intimate union is quite fervent and passionate, but it also contains a small trace of desperation on your part, aware that perhaps this would be your last kiss with him.
You pull away after a while, both because you need to breathe and because you need to leave. Ace smiles at you and gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, before walking away to go towards the window, checking if there was anyone on the street who might catch you leaving his house.
At the green light, you immediately go to the door and open it, saying goodbye to Ace with a sharp pain in your chest.
You wished this wasn’t the last time.
Crossing the street and opening the door of her house, her mother and father were already waiting for her on the sofa in the living room.
It went without saying how much your mother started arguing the moment she saw you stepping foot in the house, asking why you had a cell phone when you didn't even answer a damn message. Your father also sided with her, but in a milder way, just advising you to pay more attention and not spend so much time on the street.
After listening to all the complaints that your mother had to say to you, you went up to your room and took the red phone out of your bag after locking the door, checking if there was a missed call on it too. Nothing.
You placed it on the desk and sat in the chair, deciding to wait for a call from Floyd while killing time by scrolling through your laptop.
The red phone rings at midnight.
You don't answer, knowing it's that strange male voice, rather than your friend Floyd — who hadn't yet shown any sign of life.
Maybe it was already too late to wait for a call from him. Who knows, perhaps his death was accomplished, even after all the warnings and advice given.
This makes you feel really bad, feeling not only bitter and sad about the possibility that he really died, but also guilty for having for a moment wished for that to actually happen.
The feeling of remorse covers him like a heavy blanket. Sudden tears escape your eyes and you wonder how you could have done more to help him.
Even in mourning, the stranger on the other end of the line doesn't stop, much less respect your pain.
As the seconds pass, the tinkling becomes more and more unbearable, like a macabre orchestra playing the march of the gates of hell as they open.
You grab that cursed device and answer the call.
“What the fuck do you want?” There is no trace of fear in you, other than the purest and most genuine anger. When there is no response other than a panting breath on the other end of the line, you ask in a more shouty manner. “WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT!?”
When there is still no response, you lose patience and hang up the phone. To prevent the tinkling from bothering you, you do the same process as yesterday: wrapping it in a sweatshirt and throwing it in the desk drawer.
You lay down to sleep and the tears return.
The next day, you feel as exhausted as before, as if your body hadn't gotten enough rest. However, you were fully aware that all this fatigue was not from your body, but from your own mind, shaken by Floyd's death.
You had simply convinced yourself that he would never call again, especially after waking up and realizing that you were still in the house you bought a few months ago, without any sign of change in the present.
You try to let it go, try to convince yourself that you did what you could and that Floyd probably didn't listen to you enough, leaving on his motorcycle even after all the warnings.
Apparently, blaming the victim of the tragedy herself was the only way to feel better, to not feel as helpless and guilty as she was now.
You try your best to put on a neutral expression on your face, pretending everything was fine and heading downstairs to have breakfast, even though your stomach was upset and your throat was completely blocked. You needed to pretend or your family would ask what the problem was, not wanting to be pressured with questions.
Your eyes hover over your mother and father, who were sitting near the kitchen counter. You wish them good morning and sit next to your father, half filling the glass that rested on the table with orange juice, then taking a slice of toasted bread and bringing it to your mouth, biting a piece. It's the best you could eat, without probably ending up vomiting.
You can't taste anything after the stress of these last two days, which finally came to a head last night after all that shedding of tears. You try your best to focus on the taste, but you don't taste anything other than the sweetness of the bread and the sourness of the juice. Each swallow is forced, your throat vehemently refuses each bite and it hurts.
You look at every corner of the kitchen, trying to distract yourself — from the pain and the sudden urge to cry — with anything that is remotely interesting, so that your active brain can have some daydreaming.
Don't think about Floyd. Don't think about him.
You think about him, while you argue with your own mind not to do this, so that it gets distracted by something.
Get distracted by something. Something. Think of something. Start a conversation.
His eyes continue to move, like prey looking for a way to escape its hunter. However, you were not prey, as you were just trying to escape your own tears and bitter emotions.
The guilt continued to haunt you, already rooted in you like a dark stain embedded in soul, just like that strange stain above the ceiling.
“Mom, has the ceiling always been like this?” You ask, aware that you had never noticed that before.
“That question again?” You don't understand what she means by that, as far as you knew, you had never even noticed that stain. “Yes, it has always been like this. But I keep telling your father to fix this.” She expresses obvious annoyance, staring directly at her husband. This one, who just pretends not to hear it.
“And what happened to him?” You look more closely, the stain snaked its way across the ceiling to the kitchen door as if a very large and disgusting snake had passed through there and left a trail of soot.
“I already told you that too.” She looks at you like you're an idiot asking the same thing twice in a row. And, apparently that was it, although you weren't aware that you'd ever asked those questions. “Don’t you remember that the house was falling apart when we first came to visit?” No, the house wasn't falling apart as far as you remembered. It just looked abandoned, nothing more. “The purchase was cheap because of the state, but the renovation ended up costing a lot, anyway.”
As if your body is being controlled by invisible wires, you rise from your seat and are driven purely by morbid curiosity. Your feet walk on the ground while your eyes wander through the air, following that soot snake that goes far beyond the kitchen, realizing that it also spreads to the ceiling of the living room, climbing the walls of the stairs to the bedroom hallway. It's horrible.
Regardless of how inattentive you were sometimes, your house had never been like that.
It was as if it had simply changed overnight.
Thank you for reading this far! Constructive criticism is always welcome!
I will only be back in January or February.
