LUCIOUS & COOKIE: TUG OF WAR II (REMASTERED)

HIDING IN GLASS HOUSES

Andre

"Andre Martin Lyon you're under arrest as an accessory to the murders of Rhonda Lyon and Travis Witherspoon. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you, you have a right to an attorney...."

The entire congregation bore witness to the police slapping the cuffs onto my wrists, I looked towards my wife up in the choir stand....her face contorted...everything around me began to fade to black. My breathing increased as I was drug down the isles of the church towards the exit...

Within seconds my body flew up from the cool sheets of my bed...

My eyes opened as sweat streamed down my chest, my pupils adjusted to the darkness around me as I sat fully upright and looked around. I unleashed a few harsh heavy breaths into the blank spaces of my bedroom, shut my eyes tightly for a second to try and compose myself and my frazzled nerves. A cool spring breeze floated towards me through the white curtains of the cracked windows and I exhaled.

It was a dream, just a dream. I told myself while continuing to scan my surroundings, "Dammit Dre, get a grip man." I sighed, ran my hand over my face then took another series of deep breaths. My body shifted upward, and my back came to rest against the headboard. I reached over, flicked on the lamp next to me then instantly noticed that Michelle isn't lying in her normal position by my side.

I tightly shut my eyes for a second to think, squeezed the back of my neck as sweat began to settle along my chest, a soothing breath left my body when my fingers washed over my forehead, then I reopened them. 

Shaking my head, I ran my fingers over my scalp, about two months ago I started having these crazy ass nightmares about Rhonda and her lover. More specifically about that mystery email that was sent to me on Christmas Eve and the truth finally coming to light.

There's been no more contact from whoever sent the message since that night, but every day that passes my nerves become more and more frazzled. Nobody can ever find out that my father and I were behind Rhonda's death and although he told me not to worry because he was very careful about covering our tracks all those years ago. Something still isn't sitting right in the pit of my stomach.

I don't know, maybe I should tell mom what happened just to see what she thinks I should do because despite my father's assurances that still hasn't stopped me from worrying. My head tilted towards the right, I noticed a slight glow from behind the cracked bathroom door attached to the master bedroom...my wife must be in there, I thought while sliding my feet over the edge of the bed.

I rose to my feet, she's been actin' really weird lately and I'm not quite sure why. My hands washed over my face while my black Polo boxer briefs hung freely around my waist. I have been a little distracted lately so maybe I did something to Michelle that she's not talking to me about or something...that voice in my head questioned.

The length of my arms eased over my head as I stretched, my feet quietly began to trudge towards the slightly ajar door frame, then I peeped in.

Instantly noticing her shoulders slumped over as she stands in front of the massive mirror atop of our double sinks, her head's down, and both of her arms are bracing the sides of the counter. I eased the door open then headed inside to find out what's up with her because this isn't the first time she's acted strangely this week.

"Chelle, baby are you alright?" I muttered and she immediately jumped as if I'd startled her.

Her body swiftly turned to face me, the fabric of her night gown clinging to her plush hips, yet her hands are draped behind her back as if she's trying to hide something from me back there.