Until. We. Die

.6.

He hadn't come out of his room in days. He's been in there since Friday now. And this has never happened before. Being Sunday night, I could usually count on him to be home and fine to at least say hello to in the evening when he cooked dinner.

It was the only routine we had in this house and with each other; he never drank on Sunday.

It was a rule of Mom's. And besides that, she was intensely religious and believed that no one should drink on Sundays out of all days. Every Sunday when she was here, we would eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together as a family, no drinking between adults was allowed in the house. No smoking, drinking, tv, anything.

It was a family day, and after she passed it was the only thing my dad made sure we kept in the house. Dad made dinner, we sat at the table once a week where we didn't talk. Then he would wander to the living room while I went back to my room where I told him I was working on a project or homework for school.

That was our Sunday's seeing as we never attended the church after mom passed away. That was somewhere we never even went near after she died. It wasn't a thought that was allowed in this house at this point either. We didn't do anything mom loved or would have wanted us to keep doing.

Which is why I was concerned when he hadn't come out of his room to even say hello to me, to cook anything or get a drink. It was worrying me, any other day I would check on him and make sure he didn't need to be in a hospital, but when I tried last night I was yelled at and I forced myself to not care and go to my room.

He's an asshole, but he concerns me. He's still my father and the only family I have, he's an asshole, but he's my dad.

"Dad?" Knocking on his room door, I huffed as I heard rustling. Somehow he didn't stress about work and had simply just not gone over the weekend. While it was nice not having to hear his voice or see him, I was worried he was dying or something.

"Dad? I brought you food..." Opening the door some, I knew I would get shit for it, but the guy needed to eat something. When I opened the door I was met with an oddly familiar scent and glow around my dad like no other.

What I looked at was terrifying and unreal, it wasn't real because this stuff didn't exist.

He was kneeling on the floor, his hands positioned upwards as his eyes laid close and his lips moved to mumble incohesive words. His skin was pale and body was shaking as he mumbled things out loud. A heavy sweat covered his entire face as he mumbled and shook, he looked feverish and sick.

He was literally glowing, his hands and face glew yellows and orange colors as he mumbled words and twitched his head occasionally. The room was freezing yet when I entered I was suddenly burning up, I could only imagine he was as well.

In front of him was a large book and jars of red powder, chalk was surrounding him in a circle with multiple sticks sitting by his side. He looked like a wreck and his room even more as a warm glow came from his chest and fingers.

He had candles lit around the room, all of them unscented and nearly melted as they gave off a wax smell to everything. They burned the wood that they sat on and melted onto the floor everywhere.

He looked terrifying, he looked sick and wrong and everything around him was concerning. I could understand some things but this was scary. He was literally glowing and chanting. He was doing something ungodly and I didn't know what I was seeing.

While watching him and getting rather concerned at everything around him, I dropped the plate of food for him. Staring at it as it fell from my hands almost in slow motion as it dropped to my feet. My dad shook, his entire body aggressively shaking before he grunted and turned to look at me.