The Watcher V: SKYFALL

Chapter 3: The First Day

9-4-2022

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The familiar sounds of breakfast being made, the clinking of dishes, and the hum of conversation filled the air. Ruthy moved through the kitchen with practiced ease, her mind half on the task at hand and half on the day ahead.

"Angel, hurry up! You don't want to be late for your first day of high school," she called out, a smile tugging at her lips. It was hard to believe how quickly time had passed. Twelve years since 

Kamryn's death, twelve years since that nightmarish period of grief. And now, here she was, getting her son ready for a milestone that seemed to come far too soon.

Jonathan entered the kitchen, his hair still damp from the shower. He gave Ruthy a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing a cup of coffee. "Morning, hon. Is he up yet?"Ruthy sighed, glancing at the clock. "Barely. You know how he is with mornings."Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, he definitely takes after you in that department."

They shared a brief moment of laughter, a quiet acknowledgment of the life they had built together. The past twelve years had been a journey, filled with its own share of ups and downs, but they had found strength in each other, and in the memories of their friends who had become like family.

Angel finally appeared, his hair a mess and his eyes still heavy with sleep. He wore a new shirt and jeans, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Despite his groggy state, there was an air of excitement about him, a sense of anticipation for the day ahead."Morning, Mom. Morning, Dad," he mumbled, heading straight for the breakfast table.

"Morning, champ," Jonathan said, ruffling Angel's hair as he passed by. "You ready for your big day?"

Angel nodded, though there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "I guess so. Just... you know, a little scared."Ruthy set a plate of pancakes in front of him and sat down, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "It's normal to be nervous, Angel. But you're going to do great. Just be yourself, and you'll make lots of new friends."Jonathan joined them at the table, his expression serious but encouraging. "And remember, high 

school is just one step on your journey. Take it one day at a time, and don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it."

Angel looked at his parents, drawing strength from their words. "Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. I'll do my best."They ate breakfast together, the conversation light and filled with anecdotes about Jonathan and Ruthy's own high school experiences. They laughed at the old stories, the memories serving 

as a bridge between past and present.

As they finished eating, Ruthy stood up and grabbed the car keys. "Alright, Angel, let's get you to school. Don't want to be late on your first day."Angel took a deep breath and nodded, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

"I'm ready."

Jonathan pulled him into a quick hug. "You've got this, son. We're proud of you."Ruthy smiled, feeling a surge of pride and love for her family. They had come so far, and despite the challenges, they had built a life filled with love and support. As they headed out the door and into the bright, new day, Ruthy felt a sense of hope for the future, a belief that no matter what came their way, they would face it together.

The bell above the door jingled as Darrel shuffled into Kirk's small weed store. The place was a haven of sorts, its walls lined with various strains and accessories. The air was heavy with the comforting aroma of cannabis, a stark contrast to the heavy memories Kirk carried with him.

"Hey, Darrel," Kirk greeted, his tone casual. "What can I get for you today?"

Darrel, a middle-aged man with a worn, almost haunted look, approached the counter. "Hey, Kirk. I'm looking for something to help me unwind. You know, something strong."

Kirk nodded, reaching for a jar on the shelf. "I've got just the thing. This is Blue Dream. Great for relaxation, good for easing stress."

Darrel examined the jar with a nod of approval. "Sounds good. I'll take an ounce."

As Kirk weighed out the order, he noticed the tired lines on Darrel's face, the sadness that seemed to linger in his eyes. It was a look Kirk had seen often, a look that spoke of deep, unspoken grief.

"You've been a regular for a while now," Kirk remarked, trying to make small talk. "Everything alright?"

Darrel hesitated, his gaze dropping to the counter. "Not really, Kirk. Been using weed to help cope since my son, Jake, died."

Kirk's hands paused for a moment, a flicker of concern crossing his face. He knew Jake's name. The night of the church fight had left a mark on him, one that was not easily forgotten. But he didn't know Darrel's full story—only the bits and pieces that circulated among those who had been there. Darrel's version of events was a tale of loss and sorrow, not of the dark truth Kirk knew.

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Kirk said, his voice steady. "Losing someone you love is never easy."

Darrel nodded, a shadow passing over his face. "It's been rough. Jake wasn't just my son; he was everything to me. I can't seem to get through the days without this," he said, holding up the bag of weed.

Kirk managed a sympathetic smile. "We all have our ways of coping. If this helps, then I'm glad."

He didn't mention the darker side of the story—the truth about Jake's actions, the way he had terrorized Chloe, the way he had been a villain in a story that was far more complicated than Darrel knew. That was not Kirk's place to reveal. Darrel had been a loyal customer, tipping generously, and he deserved kindness and understanding, not harsh truths.

"You take care of yourself, Darrel," Kirk said, handing over the bag. "And remember, if you need to talk or just need more, you know where to find me."

Darrel smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "Thanks, Kirk. I appreciate it."

As Darrel left the shop, Kirk watched him go, a mixture of empathy and discomfort settling in his chest. He had seen so much, and while he had chosen to focus on the positives, the shadows of the past never fully left him. The weight of secrets and the truth about that night remained a heavy burden.

Kirk turned back to his work, the routine grounding him. The store was a refuge, a place where he could make a difference, even if it was just in small, everyday ways. Life moved forward, and he found solace in the knowledge that he was helping others cope, even as he continued to wrestle with his own memories.