The Mutant

Three: Diagnosis

I wasn't allowed to go to the Hospital with them, I wasn't allowed to leave the house. My grandmother had specifically told me, I MUST stay home. I didn't understand why, Legally I'm an adult now, I can go and do what I want. But I wasn't going let my Nana down. It was only 1:00 in the morning, and I stayed up. I wasn't going to bed if they weren't coming home. That was "un-safe". I called Claire, and she was still up too. She had her essay due tomorrow, and our little fiasco prank got her off track. I told her what happened, she asked if I was okay.

"Honestly, I was scared. Now it's kind of like shock... I can't really feel my toes either, is that weird?"

"Yes, stupid that's weird. You're not in shock, you're going into it. It's fine, just relax and think about how you made your best friend stay up this late to do homework on a MONDAY, I might add." she said snapping at me.

"Maybe you should've done your homework over the weekend, he did give it to you on Friday. And he like yelled at your class that it was 'DUE ON TUESDAY', so this is your own fault."

"We went out on Saturday! And I went to Church on Sunday." she said in a whispering tone.

Claire hated going to church. She was raised a catholic, but her boyfriend, Derek, was an atheist. She gets embarrassed easily by how he makes quick remarks to shoot her religion down. I hate him, just because he shoots her down like that. When they aren't talking about religion they're perfectly happy as a couple. Sometimes I feel the need to shove my fist into his face, but she knows I never will, for her sake. He knows that I can, and I will. So usually if I'm around when he shows up, he shuts up.

"Oh, well it's not my fault you were born into that cult."

"It is not a cult Ari." she said.

I'm an atheist too, if I forgot to mention it. I laugh at how much I hate her boyfriend, because I'm in his league. Or at least his religious league... I'm not quite sure what we call it yet, but we're one in the same.

"It's like one." I chuckled.

"So, any news?" she asked.

I could hear her typing like a mad woman in the background. I was a little sorry she was up because of me, but hey, she decided to come along.

"No, nobody has come home, no phone call. Nothing." I said annoyed.

"Well, he'll be alright. He's like the toughest old man I've ever met." She laughed "Okay, I have to finish this, text me if anything changes."

"Okay"

She hung up. As it now rolled upon two in the morning, I went to my room. I was exhausted to say the least. As soon as I laid down, the front door opened.

"You've got to be shitting me." I said getting back up.

I walked down the hall and out into the living room. My grandma was following a paramedic as he rolled my now sleeping grandfather into the house. She was smiling as soon as she saw me waiting for them.

"You didn't have to stay up sweetie." She said looking into my tired eyes.

"I wanted too, I wanted to know what happened."

"They found that he had trauma to the back of his skull, someone hit him. Knocked him out in the kitchen."

"So someone was in the house?" I said wide eyed.

"Someone was in the house."

I helped her get Pap into bed, and then told her she needed to lay down as well. She was reluctant to listen, but eventually I got her to go to sleep. I on the other hand couldn't lay down just yet. If someone was in the house with my grandpa, they obviously didn't want to hurt him. He was just in their way. So what did they want? I walked from the back of the hallway all the way out to the kitchen, nothing was misplaced or changed. I walked into the living room, and he dining room. Still nothing. When I got to the office, it was easy to see their mistake.

The door was scratched, the paint chipped off. Instead of the maroon color my grandma had painted it, the original paint color of white was showing. I walked into the office, and immediately saw the desk. The papers were on the floor. Like they were looking through them all. I walked around the desk and looked at Pap's drawers. Only one was opened, the lock busted. I opened it, searching through what the contents were. As organized as this drawer was, I could see what they had stolen. My file. When I was dropped off with my grandparents, my parents had left me a file. A file containing something that they wanted. Not even I knew what was inside, I was to only read it when I was eighteen. What could possibly be in there? What was I now missing?