𝗧𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗝𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗔𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗘𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻: "𝑺𝒌𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝑰𝒏 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒕"

Grey

Even with the air conditioning, the kitchen was sweltering hot, but Grey didn't even notice. Cooking was one of his hobbies aside from pottery and art. It helped him release stress and got him into his flow state.

The girls watched television in the living room, entranced by their favourite cartoons. His mother had returned and was sitting with them, which made Grey scoff. She could be the perfect parent to every other child but him. He knew that his mother always wanted a girl, but...

He laid down the plates, running over the events of that day.

Nathaniel, July, his mother... What a day. An awful day. An atrocious, dreadful day. But there was always tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

"Grey," his mother's voice shook him out of his thoughts. "I've been calling you for the past fifteen minutes."

"Sorry." He became as stiff as dried modelling clay bringing the plates filled with food to the table. He didn't want to talk to his mother. He'd rather skip in a flower field somewhere.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Her face looked concerned but her voice didn't seem so. It seemed monotone, maybe even heartless. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her usual stance when she...

Oh god, please no. No.

"Mom-" he wanted to run out of the room. He couldn't handle another bomb dropped into his life. He despised hard conversations more than he despised pineapple on pizza.

She gulped, "We need to talk about something. Especially since you know..."

He exhaled a weak sigh. Why were his hands shaking? Why did the air become so cold? Why did he feel like to vomit out of fear?

Staring at his mother with terrified eyes, he became mortified as she began to speak.

"I need to come clean to you."