Shadow of the Mind

Chapter 8: The Apartment

Sun shining through the window, upon Samuel face waking him up slowly. Rubbing his eyes, and stretching looking around the room. "Wake up, darling its time for you to go back to your room." Starring down at the head on the pillow beside him. Standing up, kicks over the unfished whiskey bottle that lay beside the bed. "Damn it, sorry mother. I will clean it up." Speaking angrily to the door way. Slowly moving to grab the towel at the end of the bed, getting on his knees to clean up the spilled whiskey. Folding the towel over and over, making sure not a drop was left soaking into the carpet. "Yes, its cleaned up. No, I don't have time to do the laundry, I'll do it tonight, when I come back to feed the guest we have over. DO you want me to get you some milk? Eggs anything" still remembering how his mother would yell at him in the morning for making a mess in his room before going to school. Standing back up, folding the blanket back over his bed, like he had done so many times before. Looking at the jar on the pillow. "All right time for you to rejoin the group. Thank you for last night darling." Kissing the jar, and walked out the room to the trophy room.

Buzz the cellphones in the living room. Thinking to himself, I need coffee before dealing with them. But it has to get done or people would start to get suspicious of the lack of responses. Walking down the hallway, humming a Christmas song that was stuck in his head, enters into the living room. The bright painted walls, and plastic over the furniture, reminded him of happier times. Simpler times. His father sitting in chair reading the newspaper. Mother making breakfast. Rushing to watch cartoons. Only to be yelled at for running in the house by both of them. The memories stopped flooding in, as he looked at the coffee table. The phones were all buzzing. It was time to answer and see what it was that was so urgent. Stretching his arm above his head, taking a deep long yawn. Sitting down upon the plastic couch. The cold plastic he could feel on his skin. Sinking into the couch, as he leaned forward to grab the first phone. "Lets see" whispering to himself. "Let's go with Emily's first. " Sliding the screen once more, to unlock. Clicking on messages. It was Mia.

As he read the message: Emily, I am so worried about you. You need to come home. Brian misses you. I miss you. Just let me know you are okay. What should he say, he thought. He needed it sound like she is just staying away, to collect her thoughts. Women usually do this, when they have relationship problems he thought to himself. Yeah as smiled to himself, I will just push her away just enough to let her know I am taking a break from everyone. That will solve Emily's problem. Grinning ear to ear. Starts to type on the screen

Mia. I am fine. I really needed some time to myself. I know you are sleeping with my husband. All the late nights at work, the texts between the two of you. The fight I had with him denying all of it. I just need to get away. I think it be best if we didn't talk for a few more days. I am safe and okay, that all you need to know. And send. Smiling with delight. A perfect cover up, he thought to himself. Checking the app, to make sure still read Las Vegas , and vpn showing Las Vegas as well. With a sigh he watched the 3 little dots, waiting for the response to come back. Standing back up walking to the kitchen, to start boiling water for his coffee press. Looking for a mug in the cabinet, the cellphone goes off again. "Guess coffee will have to wait, till this is done." Shaking his head, craving for a fresh black cup of coffee.

**Mia:** What are you talking about, Emily? This is insane. The message flashed on the screen. "Guess I will have to spice it up more for you Mia. Samuel thought to himself, with a devilish smirk.

**Emily:** Don't act like you don't know! I know about you and Brian. How long has this been going on? He responded back to her.

**Mia:** There's nothing going on! You're being ridiculous. The message back faster than expected. He pictured Mia in her apartment, getting angry, in her long t-shirt. Sitting on her couch probably with some case files. She had a routine. A routine he had taught her long time ago.