Worship You

Chapter One

As Elias steps out of the taxi and gathers his suitcases, he takes a moment to realise that the house he grew up in hasn't changed in the slightest. The most that has been done to it, really, is the new flowers that have been planted out front; the rose bushes are the only new part of the house. He wonders if the inside has changed at all, though he highly doubts it has. Not that it matters to him at all, because either way, he's just happy to be home again. Elias really has missed this place.

As he approaches the house, he gets a closer look at it. The pale yellow paint looks like it's been fixed and done over, which is good because it looks nicer this way. The white trim had been re-done too. It was still the same old place, with just a few touch ups. Elias stood on the large front porch, looking at the brown wooden rocking chairs that sat side by side in the corner on the left and then glancing to the right where the wooden bench swing hung from it's stand. That was Elias' favorite place to go and sit. He was tempted to sit down and swing for a minute, but he decided he should let his parents know that he was home. Setting down one of his suit cases, he took a deep breath before pressing the button of the doorbell.

He waited for about a split second before the door opened up and he saw his mother. "Hey, mama." He smiled and set down his other suit case, raising his arms and opening them, inviting her to hug him. Immediately, she smiled and wrapped her arms around him, holding him in a long hug. "Welcome home, dearest! Your father is going to be so happy to see you!" She squeezed him, kissed his cheek, and then finally let go, walking back into the house. Elias picked his luggage back up and walked in behind her, kicking the door closed gently with his foot. 

The wallpaper looked just like he remembered -- white with vertical baby pink pinstripes running down. "Henry! Henry, love, where are you?" His mother had called out. "I'm in the kitchen, Carolynn, sweetheart!" He heard his father call back. One thing Elias had missed was his parents being all lovey-dovey, though he would never admit to that. Walking into the kitchen, he could now smell what they were cooking for dinner. "Are you guys making tacos?" His father suddenly whipped around to see his son, a huge smile on his face. "My boy! Welcome home!" He said, walking over to Elias. Dropping the suitcases once more, he shook his father's hand before he was pulled into a hug. "You're handshake grip has gotten stronger!" He said with a smile as he pulled back and walked over to check on the meat in the pan. Elias chuckled and said, "Well, pops, you gotta have a good grip to shake the hands of future employer." His father laughed quietly and muttered, "Ain't that the truth."

His mother places a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'd like to get back into your old room and unpack, right?" Elias nods and smiles at her, reaching down to pick up his belongings again. "You know where it is. We've left it completely untouched. Well, other than dusting and such."

He thanks her and makes his way through the house, noticing that the furniture hasn't been replaced or even been moved. He smiles, glad nothing has really changed at all. He makes his way up the white wooden stairs, dragging his things with him. He sees that they've kept his photos up -- from baby pictures to his college graduation ceremony -- and when he gets to the top of the stairs, he looks down the short hallway that leads to his room.

The sign that says "keep out" on it is still up. He shakes his head and turns the door knob, pushing the door open. The white painted walls are still covered with framed drawings he was proud of. He still loves them. He remembers his first realistic drawing of a sunflower as he walks in. It's still above his bed. As he drops his suitcases onto his bed -- which still has the same black sheets with white skulls, black and white horizontally striped comforter and black cased pillows -- he hums. Elias is suddenly aware that the only light in the room is the sunlight through the window that floods past the black curtains. He walks over to the door and closes it before flicking the light switch upward. The overhead light makes the room brighter.

Elias begins unpacking everything he has in his suitcases. All of his belongings are with him. Everything he didn't want or need, he sold, so he could get some cash for his trip. He puts all of the clothes he has in the wooden dresser by his bed and puts his three pairs of shoes in the closet. He runs a hand through his messy, half natural black, half bleached blonde hair and sighs. He should be done in no time -- and he is, because about an hour later, he's laying on his bed, facing the ceiling. He's tired.

He passes out after just a few minutes and sleeps for about an hour. When he wakes up, he hears his mother calling his name. "Elias! It's supper time!" With a groan, he stretches, moving to sit on the edge of his bed for a minute before standing up. He wonders if that nap is going to mess up his sleep schedule. Actually, he knows it probably will.

When he makes his way down the stairs and washes his hands in the kitchen sink, he sees his parents at the table, chatting about something that he can't quite hear. As he walks in they don't stop talking until he sits down and then they smile at him. "Would you like to say grace, dear?" His mother asks him. He nods slowly and they all hold hands. His father says it's so they can all connect with God. Elias starts off with a quiet voice. "Uh . . dear Lord, thank you for this meal, and for, uh, bringing us together." He's not sure if he's doing it right, but he doesn't open his eyes to look at his parents for help.

"Um, thank you for . . for my safe arrival back home. I'm so glad to be back. Uh, amen." He says the last part quickly and they let go of each other, opening their eyes. His mother and father thank him and start to make their plates. Elias sighs in relief. He's happy that he didn't mess that up somehow. He starts to dig in. The tacos are amazing, just like they always have been. He really is glad to be back home.