Chapter 8-3
383 Words
Evan turned the key in the lock, still listening for the imagined burglar. Cool air hit as hard as the hot air had, raising chills all over his sweaty body and making his head pound.
Too cold, it was way too cold with no one home. His parents always adjusted the thermostat when they were all out.
“Anyone here? Hello?”
He closed his eyes for a second, holding on to the door. He heard his mother’s voice in his mind, warning him about coming into a cold house after running around outside. Warning him he could throw up or pass out and hit his head. His head was indeed swimming, his stomach turning slow, sickening loops.
He remembered how pale his mom’s face had been that morning, even though she’d planned to go back to work today. He dropped his backpack and walked toward the kitchen, keeping one hand on the wall in case he got dizzy again.
“Mom?”
The house was silent except for the rumble of the air conditioner, straining to keep up with the heavy air outside. Something didn’t feel right. Evan was covered in chills again, this time unrelated to the cold.
He wished he’d listened to Anne, that he was still beside her, failing miserably to draw anything even he could recognize.
He should have waited. He should have thought this through like his father constantly said, called home or either of his parents instead of charging in here by himself. He’d never even thought of stopping at the pay phone he ran by in the hallway at school. Now it was too late to leave.
His guts knotted up and he was afraid he was going to be sick after all. He pushed the kitchen door open.
“Mom!”
She was on the floor, broken pieces of her coffee cup all around her. Evan fell to his knees, not noticing the shards that cut into his jeans and his palms.
He didn’t need to check her pulse or her breathing.
He knew.
“Mom, please!”
Evan rolled her onto her back anyway, and her head rolled with her. Pale blue eyes just like his were open and staring at nothing. Evan’s breath caught exactly the same way Anne’s had, and he reached out with a shaking hand, touching right under her jaw.
Her flesh was cold, so cold.
Nothing inside her was moving anymore.
- Writer
