Children of a Murderer

𝓕𝓞𝓤𝓡 - 𝓦𝓘𝓛𝓛𝓘𝓐𝓜

A couple hours pass while me and Henry work. The car did need a lot more done that we realized, but honestly it was worth all the practice. Someday I would open up a shop. Robotics was what I was mainly interested in, but Henry was a skilled mechanic. We were a good match when working on this car.

Clara had stopped by a couple of times to ask things of Henry. I caught her eyes sometimes, and her cheeks would go pink. She wouldn't say anything to me. I completely understood how strange it might be, but I thought she would do something more than just say hi. 

Finally, we finished working on the car. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead with one of the hand towels Clara gave us. I laughed a bit, noticing Henry propped up on a toolshack. "Tired?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Very," he replied, ignoring the playfulness of my voice. "Do you want to go get some water bottles?"

"Yes," I nodded, feeling my mouth go dry. 

I followed Henry into the kitchen where Glinda and Clara were having a heated argument. I backed up, not wishing to intrude but Henry didn't seem to mind.

Clara's eyes widen whenever she saw our physical states. "I'll go warm up baths for you two. Glinda, get these boys some water," she said.

Glinda scowled but grabbed two cups as Clara scurried off to the bathrooms. She handed us the water, neither of us hesitated while chugging the water. "Don't choke," Glinda warned, Henry shooting her a thumbs up as he continued to drink.

I sat mine down, completely drained, and Glinda took it to the sink, setting it down. "Would you like me to wash it?" I offered. 

Glinda chuckled. "You'd make the cup ten times dirtier. Besides, Clara's supposed to do that. Her warmed that water was probably to postpone it," she accused. 

I felt as though we needed to stick up for Clara but I didn't really have the words too. She made it pretty clear she could handle herself through those many stories she shared. I kinda admired that about her. Clara was determined. For what? I wasn't very sure. 

She returned quickly. "Henry, your bath is in Dad's room. Will, follow me," she told us. Henry nodded, clearly still overworked. He walked in the opposite direction as Clara grabbed my hand and dragged me with her.

"God your hands are oily," she muttered.

"No shit, I've been working for three hours straight on a car," I rolled my eyes. She stopped and glared at me in front of a closed door. 

"Right through there is Henry's room and mine. We have a shared bathroom. Make sure you lock both doors incase anyone, including me, goes in mine or Henry's room. I found some of Henry's spare clothes that you can honestly keep," Clara sighed. "Now if you excuse me, I will be helping in the kitchen. If you need anything, shout. Someone will hear you." 

She flashed a nervous smile before being whisked away by her duties in the house. I opened the door and walked through Henry's room, immediately seeing the open bathroom. I had expected loads of makeup and hair tools, things I was unfamiliar with, but all I saw was a tube of mascara, two toothbrushes, and two hairbrushes. 

The clothes she was talking about was neatly folded and sat on the closed toilet. She had a small square with a note sitting on top of it. It simply said: Place your dirty clothes here. We will clean it and get it back to you. I knew that meant Clara would scrub and wash it before throwing it in the washer and dryer. I sympathized Clara. She had such a terrible home life.

I decided to not waste anymore water and locked both of the doors, like she said. The only issue: didn't remember which side Henry's room was. I was turned around. 

I pushed the thought to the back of my head. I took my clothes off and threw them into the basket before hopping into the shower and soaking my black hair. The oil and gunk from the car came off pretty quickly. 

I got out of the shower faster than I had anticipated and heard singing from the room to my right. It sounded oddly calming, like how a mother would sing to sooth a child. I assumed it must've been Clara, making the other room Henry's. I dried off using the towel she provided for me and put the clothes on. 

It was a purple sweatshirt with "White Tower" on the front (yes, the restaurant) and black sweatpants. I slipped my converse back on and tied them. I used Henry's brush and brushed my hair before scrunching it in the towel and running my hands through it. 

I grabbed my purple sachal and took one look in the mirror before opening the door to the right. Wrong door, William.

Wrong. Door.