Elsewhere

1.

Author's Note.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER 1.

FAMILY

Outside of Grin's window flashed.
The teen was in bed, facing the ceiling, trying to remember his father's face. The color of his eyes, the style of his hair, and the shape of his nose were all but a blur to him. All he could recollect was a figure of a man who once danced with his mother in the living room. He wished his mother kept all the family photos on the walls but they were all taken down. Now the walls of this two-story house remained empty like the people who lived in it.

His window glowed, and for a split second, he could've sworn he saw someone leaning on the frame of his door. But that image dissolved just as quickly as the lightning outside. Grin leapt from his bed and crossed the room to flick the light on. His eyes darted around the room as though he expected something unusual to appear. Nothing. He brushed his fingers through his hair and walked back to the corner of his bed to sit and even out his breathing.

"Grin!" He heard his mother's voice from downstairs. "Come down and help me out in the kitchen!"

His chest went cold as if a block of ice slipped down his throat and settled there, melting slowly. He sat there for a few more minutes before he rose to his feet and walked out of his bedroom, heading downstairs to his mother.

When he walked into the kitchen, it was warm and filled with sweet scents. He watched mournfully as his mother turned to him from stirring a bowl and smiled.

"Mind cutting those onions for me?" She asked softly—focusing harder on the bowl she was mixing and wiping away beads from her brow.

Grin went over to the cutting board and pulled out a dull knife from the drawer dock. Almost immediately he chopped away at the onions—biting down his pink lips—trying to distract himself from the cold silence between him and his mother. He tried to imagine random scenarios in his head to pass the time, but his disorganized thoughts kept looping back to his mother. Every sound she made: dropping a wooden spoon, pulling something from the cabinet, or opening and closing the oven were all scrambling his thoughts. He didn't realize he was pressing the knife down on his finger until his mother glanced over at his direction and screamed.

"What are you doing?" She cried and grabbed his wrist to check his bleeding finger. Grin looked down and saw a puddle of red liquid on the cutting board.
His mother's face went pale and she tugged on his arm but Grin snatched his arm away. His mother flashed him a glare but she looked more hurt than anything.

"Let me help you."

"I'm fine." Grin turned back to the cutting board and picked up the knife. "I'm almost done."

"Grin. Stop that, now." She said firmly but it didn't move him. He grabbed another onion and sliced it right through the middle. He couldn't see her but he could feel her eyes burning him from behind.

"Do you fucking hear me?!" She blurted out and grabbed Grin's shoulder to flip him around. But the knife in his hand slashed across her cheek and sent her tumbling to the floor. Grin froze and gripped on the knife, half-conscious of what he had done. All he had felt was her hand on his shoulder and that was all his mind could recollect. He stood there as his mother breathed slow and heavy, touching the wound on the side of her face. Her mouth slightly parted and she widened her eyes, making Grin's chest pound. But then she smiled. An unnerving smile.