Dylan
It was a Friday.
First Friday of May. Partly cloudy.
Sitting on the front porch, I'd been waiting for my brother to come home from school. He was late.
Now it's about 2 weeks later.
3rd Saturday of May. Drizzling.
I sit in the same spot. My clothes are wet but not soaked. More like they were washed and not dried properly.There's a chill but it doesn't really bother me. . Small water droplets seem to cover everything. I stare blankly at the road, as if expecting something, but my vision isn't focussed on anything.
It's been unusually wet for May, in California. All this rain is usually saved and used up in the winter. By now it'd normally be baking outside, and I'd be inside in front of a fan, reading a book. Instead the sky is covered in clouds, inviting me out.
I don't really know what I'm doing. Waiting I suppose. Waiting for what? I don't know. Or I do, just don't want to think about it. Nothing. Something. Anything. Waiting's easier than thinking. Crying. Mourning. Adults don't really agree with me on that.
Adults and I don't agree on a lot of things sometimes.
The more raindrops start falling, until it's properly raining, distracting me from my thoughts. My clothes are starting to get properly wet, and I wrap my arms around myself. I don't get up. I forgot how long I've been out here.
"Dylan?" The front door behind me opens with a small creak. "Come inside, you've been out a while."
I shake my head. I know I should probably respond. Most kids would do it easily, but I struggle to get the words out. "I- I don't wanna," I don't turn around.
My mom lets out a small sigh and sits next to me. I look up at her. "Well then, mind if I join you?" She asks. I frown. "You'll get wet." She smiles. "Eh, it's a little water. I'll be fine," I look down uncomfortably. Normally I'd wait by myself. But I don't protest.
We sit there in silence. The wetness of the rain doesn't really bother either of us.
Finally I can't bear it any longer. Sitting in silence is one of my favorite pastimes but now it felt awkward. It feels like we're both doing different things. So I decide to break the stillness
"'M cold" She gives me a worried look."Do you wanna go inside now?" Slowly I nod.
"Come on,". She gets up and opens the door. I get up and step inside. "Do you want some hot cocoa?" she asks. I nod.
I walk over to the living room and sit on one of the sofas. Mom gets out the cocoa powder and begins to prepare it.
"There's some blankets in the basket," She tells me over her shoulder. There's a basket next to one of the sofas, filled with blankets. We put it there for spontaneous movie nights. Or coming inside on rainy days, like now.
I dig through it looking for one blanket in particular. I find it. Red, with crimson roses all over. I wrap it around me and sit down again. When Mom turns around with two mugs of hot cocoa, she freezes. Then she shakes herself, and sits down next to me. I take my mug.
"Chris' blanket huh? She asks. I nod. She laughs a little. "I almost thought you were him," She looks out the window. "Thought my baby came home," She says it so quietly I can barely hear it. I don't know if I'm supposed to hear it.
I guess I can see how she thought I was Chris. The two of us are fraternal twins, but we still look alike. Same slightly tanned skin, but mine's a little lighter. Same sandy blonde hair, that looks brown in a certain light, but mine's a little darker. My hair is a bit longer than his, but still short for a girl. I could pass for a boy if I wanted too.Our eyes however are different. Mine are a cloudy gray from our dad, and his are caramel/hazel color from our mom.
I wrap the blanket around her too. We're both getting it wet, but neither of us say anything. I don't think Chris would've minded. Mom smiles, and scoots closer wrapping one of her arms around me. I put my head on her shoulder.
I take a sip of my hot cocoa. I nearly burn my tongue and can't really taste the chocolate because I swallow so quickly, but it makes me feel warm inside. I blow at the liquid in the cup, trying to cool it faster.
Mom slowly takes a sip of her hot cocoa. She looks at me. "I love you. You know that, right?" I stay quiet. She caresses my cheek. "I love you so, so, so much. You and Chris..." She swallows. "You know that right?" Her voice is soft and gentle. Almost everyone talks to me gently.
I want to just nod in response, but I decide to give her a verbal answer. "I know." I say. She smiles and wraps an arm around me like she did outside. "Good,". Mom's been saying that a lot the past two weeks. Especially when she's reminded of Chris.
I think it's because of the note.
The note is fake, to me it's obvious. Of course no one believes me; After all I'm just a kid. A distraught sister, trying to make excuses for his twin, trying to escape the truth. My opinion doesn't matter
Mom believes me. I think. She says she does. There are times where I think she doesn't.
"When.. when is Chris coming back?" The question seems stupid but I ask it anyway.
A sad look comes over her face. She gives me a weak smile. "Soon. Soon. She responds softly. We fall back into silence but now it's comforting. We're both doing the same thing nowWe're both waiting.
I sigh, staring out the window. The rain is making a faint drumming noise now.
'Come home soon Chris...'
'Please'
~'~*~'~
WC: 1003
I came up with this idea a while ago, and honestly I'm excited to write something that's not fan fiction. I planned to keep this to myself but I decided to share it.
Tell me what you think!
*Slowly fades away*
YOU ARE READING
On a String
Horror3 disappearances one week after the other. 3 suicide notes. No bodies. Dylan is unconvinced her brother is dead Jasper is trying to figure out what to do, when his girlfriend and her brother are gone Milo is trying to learn about his weird dreams th...