There's a note on the night stand with his cursive writing written classically.
I'll have the breakfast ready soon, sweet.
I smile at the letter, rereading it and again.
Finally, I manage to make it to the shower and rinse myself decently then throws on one of his t-shirt and boxers. I slowly descend downstairs, wincing every step of the way.
I spot him skilfully work around his well-equip kitchen in nothing but his pyjama pants, bare feet. He's still hair slightly damp from shower making me thankful that I force myself to go for one myself.
"I include it in the note for you to stay there, sweet." He says without looking up.
I shake my head for thinking that I can ever sneak up on him.
"I can't just sit still. I'll feel like a damsel in distress."
He looks up from what he's doing, the afternoon light catching his eyes. They were the color of pale blue, gone is the harshness I always see in them.
Frowning, he says, "You're too hard headed for a damsel in distress, my love."
My heart skips a beat at his chosen endearment.
"Is that a bad thing?" I raise my brows.
His eyes grow hooded, "It can be."
Just like that, we make a memory to his magazine model kitchen as well.
Chapter Ten
Luke
Some things are better off undiscovered. That way it'll be nice and intact to a place where it fits to be. But with so many skeletons I keep dumping on my closet, they're now coming out slowly. I can't keep them hidden anymore; it's getting hard to maintain it and pretend they're never there.
I've been playing the hero role lately that even I deceive myself from believing it's true. Now I'm paying the price for dreaming.
"Does she know that you have a child from one of your whore, Luke?"
I don't know how or why but I keep finding myself to a place I want to bury along with my black and white pass. But it's like running in a circle inside a maze; you'll always end up in a spot you've been.
The blinding light makes the pounding in my temple worsen, making it harder for me to form a coherent thought.
"Or do you keep her in the dark as well?"
Despite the boosts, I've consumed for the past couple of days, I can still process the image of the face I never want to see. He's the reason why my family falls apart. He's the reason why I fucking try so hard to be where I am now. And for what?
I only find out later that no matter what I do, Dawson Hemmington will never be a father I need him to be. I'm sorry that I continue to waste all my life trying to live up as the ideal son. And in the end, the very person I hold so much hate from becomes me.
My tongue heavy, I try to speak but to no avail.
The little asshole laughs, enjoying himself. It's not every day he gets to see me beyond my organized and collected world.
"Think you did your worse already? Well, why not go ahead and be a man, big bro. Tell her that you kill your son's mother so you can keep your dirty little secret."
His taunting's sucking me back to that day where her body lays motionless on the floor, eyes vacant.
There's not a day where she doesn't haunt me. Those smiling brown eyes that glow with so much warmth or how her eyes will crinkle by the corner with so much smiling and not a single in the world she has is no more. They're filmy and unseeing. For years, it has me drinking myself to stupor, but when I realize that it won't numb the pain away, I try to end my life. But Isaac saves me from that dark moment, walking in on me with the most innocent eyes.
"I'm going to be late for school."