Random Writing

Oops

Every morning at 9:00 a.m. sharp, you get a call on your cell phone. The speaker says "I know what you did" and then hangs up. This has been going on for two weeks straight. What did you do and how do you react to these calls?

*************

"I know what you did," the voice says for the sixth time this week. As always, it clicks silent just seconds after the last word is spoken. I sigh and lay back on my bed. Why me? Why now? It's been months since that happened. You would think everyone would have forgotten.

I climb out of bed and make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The smell of fresh cooked bacon invades my senses and I can almost forget about the calls. I can almost convince myself that I'm just a regular thirteen-year-old kid coming down for breakfast in the morning. Just a regular kid spending the few precious moments he gets with his family before they leave him alone for the day. Yeah. Right.

That's not me. Not since that accident seven or so months ago at the power plant with Jimmy.

"Hi mom," I say, pushing open the kitchen door and finding my place at the ancient table.

She quickly turns her head in my direction before facing the stove again. "Hi Peter," she says. "How did you sleep?"

"Alright," I lie. I didn't sleep, but she can't know that. Can't know that her son- her pride and joy- is being tormented by a mysterious caller about an accident that she doesn't even know happened. An accident that cost me my best friend.

Mom places a plate of pancakes in front of me, a small slice of bacon laying across the corner. I smile up at her before picking one up and shoving it in my mouth. I love pancakes.

It's at this moment that Dad decides to grace us with his presence. I can hear him lumbering down the stairs all the way from the kitchen table, and evidently, so can Mom. Her posture stiffens and she immediately starts stacking another plate with pancakes and bacon, at least twice as much as mine. After setting it gently on the table, she then runs to the coffee maker and pours a mug of it, setting it next to the plate just as the door swings open and Dad walks in.

I will say, if he wasn't my father, he would have terrified me. Jus the look on his face is enough to send a grown man crying. I've seen it before and I'll probably see it again. He sits roughly in his seat before taking a swig of the coffee, grimacing, and setting it down again. More civilized than me, he actually cuts up the pancake before eating.

He doesn't ask how I slept. Doesn't ask about my day yesterday or my plans for today. He doesn't speak at all, really.

Sometimes I wonder, if he wasn't my father, would I have still done what I did?

And then my phone rings. It never rings during the day. The only time I ever get a phone call is when that creepy guy calls me about knowing what I did.

Dad glares up at me, "Are you gonna get that or what?" he asks around a mouthful of bacon.

I nod quickly and run out of the room.

"Hello?" I answer.

"There is a van waiting outside your door as we speak," the caller says. It's the same voice who calls me every morning. "If I were you, I would walk outside calmly and hop on in."

"If I don't?" I ask.

"If you don't," the caller says and I can tell he is smiling through the threatening tone of his voice. "If you don't, then I will tell everyone you know and love about your little... accident in the power plant."

I swallow nervously. Of course he would. Of course. Nothing every works out for me. I've known that from the start. "Fine," I say. "But you'll leave my parents out of this."