Sweet Penelope

Floater

"Mason Combalt, you witnessed the scene?" I looked at the police officer, he had a notepad and ink pen. I knew he didn't care about this situation, he was paid to care. "No." He raised his thick eyebrows. "Are you sure? You tell me everything you saw and heard. I know this is hard for you but your foster parents are answering the same questions as you in the other room." He was treating me as if I was a liar, and I didn't know why he had a reason to distrust me. "Please talk to me." Fury rose in my chest and it burned like an ember. "I know the son of a bitch who raped and murdered my sister. Instead, you waste your time begging her grieving brother to replay the scene in his tattered mind so you get your filthy paycheck this week." The officer furrowed his brow and clicked the ink pen a few times. "So, you did see the scene. Who did this?" I stood up and I looked at the door. "Sit down, kid." I guess he thought he could intimidate me or threaten me. "I need to get something from the room." The officer sighed. "You can't disturb the crime scene." I ignored his order and I ran up the stairs, back into our room. The investigators looked at me and tried to coax me back downstairs. I gently removed the thumbtack from one of Penelope's drawings, messing up the rainbow pattern she always swore had to be there. Her drawing came true, the family in it wasn't so unrealistic. Life made sense for while, and everything was okay. Her call for my name replayed in my head, and it wouldn't stop. The way her hand softy touched my wet cheek. I looked down at the sloppy initials in the bottom corner. My hot tear hit the page and it landed on the drawing of herself, holding my hand and petting a dog. I folded the drawing neatly and placed it in my pocket. The window was still open and it was almost daylight outside. I took a deep breath and I ran for that window. And I jumped out. I heard the investigators shouting my name. I landed on my side and I groaned. The pain didn't compare to the breaking of my heart and I immediately stood up. I went to run but someone grabbed my arm. It was Cheryl. Her eyes were red and swollen, mascara had dried to her cheeks. "Mason, you do what you have to do." She cracked a small, saddened smile but it soon went away. At this moment, I knew I had found my mother that I had longed for my entire life. But I could not stay and she knew that. "Thank you, Mom." Her lip started to quiver at the name she had always wished to hear. She removed her hand from my shoulder and I gave her one last look before I ran. I had no destination. But I definitely had a goal.

My head hurt, my nose throbbed, and my feet ached. I was sweating, my shirt was drenched and my jeans stuck to me. I was unsure of how far I had walked but the woods seemed to be never ending. I saw a mossy area under a tree and decided to rest. I sat down easily and rested my head against the tree. I pulled the drawing out of my pocket and I touched the stick figures. Everything seemed so surreal, I wanted this to be a nightmare. I missed sweet Penelope more than anything. Her voice, her twinkling eyes, her curiosity, her sassiness, just her everything. I found myself bawling my eyes out in the middle of the woods. I haven't cried over much in my life, so the amount of tears were overwhelming to me. I had already came to the terms that I would never be okay again. My brain fell to pieces along with my soul and heart. I had decided in my mind that once I seek my vengeance, I would rid of myself properly. The thought of cutting my existence short purposefully, never crossed my mind. I lived for Penelope, she was my purpose. So, what was I supposed to live for now? Myself? For now, I would. My purpose was still my sister, just in a different form. 

A man was shaking me. I had fallen asleep under the tree, which was my only form of relief for the time being. I jerked awake and looked into the man's eyes. He was dressed in camouflage and had on an orange vest, and he was carrying a large rifle. "Kid, you're on my land. You should head back on home, it's not very safe out here anyways." I sighed. "I'm sorry for trespassing. What's the quickest and easiest way to town from here?" The man scratched his head and looked around. "Where do you live?" I didn't know if I could trust him, but he seemed harmless. Maybe a grouchy old man who enjoyed killing animals was all. "No where. I ran away and I don't want to go back." He pulled on his grey and black beard and didn't ask why. "Well, I won't pry. My truck isn't very far away. You can ride home with me and we can figure out where you belong later." Accepting a ride from a stranger holding a gun was something I would never consider. And I was scared to take him up on his offer, but I felt I had no other choice. I was lost, I was hungry, and I was in pain. "Thank you. I will ride home with you."
It was an awkward and silent car ride. He would glance over at me ever so often, and I knew he was just anxious as I was. A runaway teenager with a black eye and broken nose wasn't the most truth worthy thing ever. The man turned on a gravel road and I seen a little white farmhouse in the distance. There was a field of horses to my left and a field of cows to my right. I've never been on a farm, it's always been small towns and cities for me. He parked his truck and I climbed out. "Nice place." He smiled. "Thanks. Super peaceful out here too. Nothing beats it." He then turned to look at me, leaning against his pickup. "What's your name?" I took a deep breath, I was in fear of telling him too much. "I'm Mason." He nodded. "Cool name. I'm Kirk." I removed my hand from my pocket and stuck it in his direction. He shook my hand with a very firm grip.

I followed Kirk inside of his house. He unloaded his rifle and propped it against his fireplace. He walked into the kitchen and got himself a beer from the fridge. "Want one?" I hesitated. A beer was only a beer, right? "Uh, sure." Kirk got another beer out and handed it to me. I took my shirt tail and popped the cap off. I sniffed inside of the bottle. Kirk laughed. "Don't do that. Just drink and let the problems roll off." I took a sip and made a face. He laughed even harder. "The first one is always the hardest to get down." I sat the beer on the counter. "It tastes like piss." Kirk nodded. "Good analogy. But you're going to finish it because beer doesn't get wasted in my house. Costs too damn much." I picked the beer up and reluctantly took another drink. It wasn't as bad as the first sip, but I couldn't imagine drinking these for fun. "So Mason, I don't know a thing about you. You're standing in my house and you're drinking my beer. You have a black eye and your nose is a little crooked. Want to tell me why you were asleep in the woods?" No, I didn't want to tell him a thing. But, I needed him to trust me so he would help me. "I ran away from home. I was an orphan but I got adopted, and they were good to me but I just got bored." Kirk laughed. "Just got bored? An orphan wouldn't get bored of a good home. Tell me the truth or just start walking your butt back." I sighed and I tried to fight the tears in my eyes. But, it was impossible. They started to roll down my cheeks, quickly. The scene replayed in my head. Kirk reach over and rubbed my back. "Well, I don't guess I have to know." I wiped my eyes on my shirt sleeve and I shook my head. "My little sister, Penelope." Kirk squinted. "Yeah? Where is she?" I started to cry harder. I wanted to hide it all from him, I didn't want him to take me back to the orphanage or turn me away. But everything just started to fall out. "She's not here anymore. And it's all his fault. He took her from me!" I was yelling and the tears kept falling. Kirk walked over to his sink and grabbed a paper towel. He gently grabbed my chin and held my face. "Stop crying and stop screaming at me. I know you're angry at something and someone. Sit down, sip the beer, and tell me everything." He took the paper towel and wiped my hot tears away. I couldn't refrain the tears from falling, but I sat down and I took a sip of beer as he asked. "Please, just promise you won't take me back to the orphanage. I'll do anything you ask me. Just please." Kirk nodded. "Sure, I promise." I closed my eyes and tried to recollect myself. I couldn't bring myself to tell him, he was still a stranger to me and though he showed compassion towards me in the recent minutes, I felt I couldn't trust him with my trauma. I wanted to tell him everything, I wanted to cry on his shoulder, and then I wanted to curl into a little ball and die. But I only knew his name. Kirk seemed to read my mind and he patted my hand. "You tell me when you're comfortable. I imagine what you've been through hasn't been easy." I nodded. "Thanks." He stood up and stretched. "There's some leftover beef stew in the fridge. Get as much as you want and heat it up. You can sleep on the couch for the night. In the morning, we're talking about how you're going to repay me for my generous heart."