The Darren Hunter Effect

Chapter One: Faith

Tacking my brown locks behind my ear, I hesitated to knock on the door. I knew what my mother was going to say. She warned me a couple of years ago. She told me I was rushing into things I was too young to understand, yet I never listened and here I am at her doorstep, with a heart that could barely beat and the sting of tears behind my eyelids.

Even on the plane, I had to blink multiple, chant self encouraging words to stop myself from breaking down in front of everyone and causing a scene. Taking another deep breath, I tap my fingers on the door, waiting for it to open.

A couple of seconds later, the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing an apron and holding a checkered hand towel in her hand, her brown strands of hair tied behind her back in a messy bun. I called her three days ago, telling her I would be visiting. I hadn't revealed anything about what happened with Harry. Soon I was going to tell her whether I liked it or not. Debbie Rogers moved to the side, letting me drag myself and my bag inside the house. She rushed to the kitchen and joined me when I was climbing up the stairs.

"How was the flight?"

"Good," I mumbled. Lord knows I didn't even remember most of it. Right now, I was just glad I was home.

"Are you okay, Faith? You sounded off on the phone when you called and you sound off today too."

"Everything is fine," I lied. I might as well just tell her the truth, but I was too cowardly to say anything. And if I was being honest with myself, then I wanted to tell my dad, who was going to tell the woman in front of me.

"I won't push you. When you're ready to talk, you know I'm here." I nodded a little. My mother left soon after that a deep frown on her face. Pulling my phone from my pulse, I glared at the hundreds of missed calls plus messages from Harry. Good thing the phone was on silent. Right now, I had no intention of dealing with him or anyone. All I kept seeing in my mind was him touching and kissing our single neighbor in our own bedroom. It wasn't until I cleared my throat when they stopped touching. They broke apart like an invisible force had yanked them from each other.

All I remember was standing there frozen. I watched Rhea gather her things and move out of the room. Harry came in front of me. He said something, but I heard none of it. My ears were filled with the sound of my own heartbeat. I wasn't angry; I was just so heartbroken nothing made sense for quite a while. When I could think again, I went and requested a holiday from work. My boss didn't even argue. Perhaps he saw the look on my face.

I dropped the phone on the bed, stared at my childhood room, and sighed. Harry and I married when we started our first year of college. We went to the same college but majored in different things. We used to be close. He would whisper sweet things to me every night when he made love to me. Everything was perfect, or so I thought.

Blinking back the tears, I opened my bag, taking my clothes and hanging them in the walk-in closet. The urge to cry still burned in my veins, but I couldn't cry now. A time for that was bound to arrive. When I was in this very room, with the lights turned off and on the bed would I allow myself to cry. My mom or dad could walk in here anytime and see me cry, which is something I didn't want to happen, not until I tell them what happened.

Even the thought of sitting down in front of my parents narrating the sorry tell to them had my blood icing over. After finishing placing my things in the closet, I slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower. It was here where I could cry without the fear of anyone walking in to only find me breaking down. But I had to remind myself that my very observant mother was going to know something was definitely off if I went downstairs with red eyes.
Wrapping a towel around my body, I walked back into my room. Lathered my body with lotion and put on a simple dress. I let my wet brown locks fall around my face. It was hot, no chance of getting hypothermia or anything. Fingers tapped on the door and I hurried to open it.

"Come down. Lunch is ready."

"Coming," I said. She gave me another curious stare and sauntered away. The apron discarded somewhere, leaving her in a white sleeveless dress. I grabbed my phone and exited the room, going downstairs. These past days I didn't have an appetite for eating, even now I doubted if I was going to eat.

When I entered, my father stood up and embraced me. I swallowed down the need to breakdown then and there in his arms.

Time will come, Faith. Don't ruin lunch just yet.

He pulled away, examining my body.

"You've lost weight. Is everything alright?" He asked, his deep voice carrying through the room. All I could do was nod. I suspected that even my neck was tired of doing the same thing every time. We both settled into our chairs. Mom served lunch, and we dug in.

"How is Harry?" My dad questioned. The steak I was chewing suddenly felt like I was being forced to chew sand. I wanted to spit it out but forced myself to swallow while thinking of a way I could answer my father's question. Two pairs of eyes were trained on me, waiting for a response.

"He cheated on me," I whispered.

"What did you say?" Was she making me repeat what I said on purpose, or did she really not hear me?

"Harry cheated on me," I finally said, my voice loud enough for them to hear me. My father gently placed his knife and fork onto his plate while my mother looked unsurprised at all.

"That son of a bitch!" My father rarely cursed. If he did, then it meant things were serious.

"I told you about that boy. You rushed into things!" When I was coming here, I knew my mother was going to remind me of what she told me before, but hearing it after all this that went down hurt so much. Back then, I was in love. I believed it could conquer everything, but now I know I was wrong.