Maelstrom (Inferno 5)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dalton

––––––––

I wake up the next morning with a start.

Rubbing my eyes tiredly, I shove the blanket off and get to my feet.

I’m not entirely sure what’s got me so wired right now, until it hits me.

Luna Thompson, meet Hailey Chazen.

How I’m going to pull off this introduction without scaring the shit out of either of them is beyond me, but then again, Mom’s been gone a long time so it’s not like she’ll notice.

I walk quietly down the hallway, rolling my shoulders and rubbing my eyes again, pausing briefly outside of Mom’s bedroom door.

She’s going to either be angry or indifferent. Those seem to be the only two emotions she shows anymore these days.

I lightly rap on the door with my knuckles, hoping to rouse her gently from her sleep.

“Mom?” I call from the other side of the door.

When she doesn’t answer me, when I don’t even hear the bed creak, I try again, rapping a little harder, calling her name a little louder.

“Mom? Can I come in?”

I wait out the customary ten seconds of silence before I put my hand on the doorknob, and slowly begin to push it open.

I sigh as soon as I see her.

On her bed, still asleep, her body aimed toward the window.

She always did like the way the cool breeze felt on her skin, and no matter what the temperature would be outside, she would sleep with her window cracked open.

Genius and madness all at the same time.

The two things that make a person great, I think with a quiet chuckle as I enter her room and close the door quietly behind me.

I walk over and stand at the foot of her bed, giving one of her feet a playful slap.

“Wake up, sleepy head,” I say softly, but she doesn’t even acknowledge that someone is in her room.

It’s always the fucking same.

It has been for years.

“Mom? I need you to get up today. There’s someone you need to meet,” I practically beg her softly.

An errant breeze wafts slowly into the room, rustling her beautiful brown hair on her shoulders, but she doesn’t return the favor.

“Mom? Please?”

The frustration that takes over me when she continues her blatant assault of disassociation begins to wash over me like a goddamn waterfall, and it’s starting to make me feel hopeless again.

Running both hands back through my hair, then down my face, I swallow down a sigh and do my best to pretend that I’m not as frustrated as I feel.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I assure her softly. “I’ll bring her in later and you guys can have a chat then, okay?”