Eli adjusted his tie for the nth time that morning. Aesop glanced over at him, knowing how nervous the other must be. He was already dressed down just standing behind Eli as the other checked everything one last time. Eli had mentioned that his parents lived in a small area just outside the city but with busy schedules there might be a chance that they're not home.
"Alright... That should be everything for now."
Eli came back, hands fidgeting around. He smoothed out his already crease-free shirt once again as if he would drop dead should his hands stop moving. Aesop insisted on driving over, with Eli seated beside him murmuring directions. The leaves were starting to yellow around them now that autumn seemed to be approaching. With everything going on before that they'd lost track of time, summer just drifting by.
"Take a left, Aesop."
Came a mutter from the side. Aesop glanced over at Eli. He looked almost pale at this point, chest rising and falling unevenly. The taller of the two reached over and held a shaking hand in his own, squeezing it tightly. Eli let out a shaky breath, sinking back into the seat. The tall buildings were all behind them now, smaller buildings lining the sides of the small street. Eli leaned forward, counting each of the small houses until they reached a small blue one. The first thing Aesop noticed was how unkept the lawn was. If he saw the number of green bottles scattered all around the premises, he did not mention it.
"They must be really busy if the lawn is in this sorry state."
Eli mumbled, brow furrowed. Something seemed a bit off. They got out of the car, Eli pushing the small fence. It creaked open, bits of chipped paint falling to the grass. Now that they were in the lawn itself, the amount of bottles scattered all over was frightening. The curtains had been drawn shut and the door seemed to be locked quite firmly. Eli gave it a firm knock and waited.
Nothing.
He knocked again, slightly louder. There was still only silence and the grass rustling behind them. Eli looked around, confusion visible on his face. He went around to the back and looked underneath the small rug. Aesop watched as he took a small key from under it and wiggled it into the door's keyhole. A small click as the door unlocked, creaking open a little. An unpleasant smell of alcohol immediately hit the both of them, Eli gagging a little. Aesop, having gotten used to the scent of alcohol peeked his head through. The house was dim, none of the lights on and the scent of alcohol heavy in the air.
"Ma? Pa? Is anyone home?"
Eli stepped in, his hands clutching his stomach as his lungs filled with that unbearable stench. Aesop ventured from the kitchen to the living room. Something crunched beneath his shoes, another shard of glass. Something was really off here.
"Eli, could I have your parents' phone numbers?"
"Oh, sure uh, here."
He fumbled out his phone and opened his contacts list. Aesop typed in the number, first dialing Eli's mother. Much to both their surprises, a soft tune chimed from upstairs. Eli dashed to the stairs, Aesop following close behind. Tripping on the last few steps, he skidded down the small hallway to the door. The taller male looked around, brushing his fingers on the staircase railings. Dust came off thick on his finger tips. Down the hallway, Eli was already in the bedroom. He sighed in relief when he saw his mother lying on the bed, asleep.
"Everything okay?"
"Yea... She was just taking a nap I suppose, maybe too tired."
Aesop watched as his mother lay there, still like a statue on the bed.
A little too still.
His heart rate increased as he went to the side of the bed, much to Eli's confusion. First came the surprise as he held his fingers under his mother's nostril, then came the realization, the disbelief. Aesop felt his heart sink as there was nothing but the stillness of air on his finger. Eli had finally noticed the stillness of his mother's chest too. The executive lunged forward for his mother as the door downstairs burst open. Aesop got up, exiting the room and heading to the living room.
"Who the hell is there?!"
A man lumbered in, bottle clutched in hand. Aesop calmly approached him, bowing his head slightly.
"You must be Eli Clark's father?"
"... Who the hell are you?"
He squinted at Aesop, clearly struggling to stay on his feet. Realization finally struck him that not only was there a stranger in his house, but that the stranger knew his son. his face contorted, twisting into a nasty expression.
"So that son of a whore actually went and got himself a boyfriend."
Aesop's eyes drifted down to the bottle the man was holding. It was all too predictable for him. He'd already dodged to the side as the bottle swung past his face, missing it by a few inches. The man let out a roar of anger, lunging at Aesop again while brandishing the bottle as his weapon. Twisting his body to the side, he grabbed the wrist going past his face and drove his other fist into the drunkard's abdomen.
---------------------------------------------
Eli let his phone slide weakly to his side. He'd been debating whether he wanted to call an ambulance while Aesop was gone, but what would be the point of getting them here? How had she even died? Had it been very long, or was it only today? Why didn't she even call or go for a checkup? Looking down at his mother, he felt a small tear drip down onto the sheets. He decided to find her something nicer to wear, instead the stained clothes she was currently wearing. Riffling through her wardrobe, he found the dress she would always wear the parties and an expensive necklace she'd taken pride on.
Propping her up, he sighed, bit back his tears, and began to loosen the first button. He noticed the hints of bandages around her shoulder as he loosened the second button. Probably a small injury from her hiking trips. But then came the black-purple bruises, which definitely don't seem like something being scratched by branches would do. He frowned, rolling up her sleeves and shirt completely. He was still for a few moments before he let go of the crumpled fabric. There was no excuse for the rest of the bruises, some were hand shaped, some were cuts, burns.
The beer bottles, the mess that the house was in, the way all the curtains had been shut. It seemed to add up.
The dress and necklace could wait a bit longer. He could hear the sound of things being broken downstairs. He wandered over to the cabinet and pulled out the drawer, eyeing the gun resting inside. He'd kept it in there just in case someone ever broke in and they needed to protect themselves. It felt cold in his hands, but it couldn't compare to the chill in his bones as he descended the stairs. As he reached the last step, a flower vase shattered right next to his head. He looked up into the drunk and wavering gaze of an older man.
"How have you been, father?"
