Creep

Chapter Fifteen

"So this is Christmas, I hope you have fun, the near and the dear ones, the old and the young. A very merry Christmas, and a happy New Year. Let's hope it's a good one, without any fears."~ John Lennon

I locked the door about two hours ago when I woke up. We usually eat our Christmas breakfast at 9:00, and now it's going on 10:00. My sister has been trying to talk me into "at least" opening the door for an hour now, but I can't really hear her. My thoughts are yelling so loud that they overpower her delicate voice. I told myself I would make this year the best Christmas ever, but my brain's won the war once again.

As I lay staring at the cracked ceiling, I start to wonder what Dad is doing right now. I imagine he's at this table in between two buff men with tattoo sleeves; one accused of murder and the other of stealing. And they're all talking about how they wish they had a second try to fix everything. That's when my dad says something like, "I don't know what happened or why I did what I did, but if I had the chance I'd be with my family and give them love this Christmas."

What if that were to be true? That's what always gets me. I have the same thought every year and I always feel terrible because I never wish him a "Merry Christmas", or "Happy Birthday", or "Hi". Maybe he acted out toward me because I was an awful son. I never tried to talk to him. Or ask him what's wrong. He was probably always sad because he knew his own son was scared of him.

Maybe because when he was actually in a good mood I was doing homework, or practicing piano. He thought I avoided him on purpose. And believe it or not, even before the "incident" I was pretty quiet. That made my dad think I had something against him. Which always confused me because if he paid any attention at all he'd realize who I was.

Wait, he did know who I was. Before I did, before Mom did, before anyone. I'm a creep.

"Henderson! Unlock this door now!" My mom yelled banging the rotten wood.

I really didn't want to. But, I'd do anything for my mom. Especially when she's using her voice that means business "or else".

I struggled out of bed and carefully disengaged the sleazy lock.

"Honey," she sat beside me, moving the hair from my eyes, "you don't need to do this to yourself. You're okay."

She then walked me into the other room where a Christmas tree made of cinnamon buns was placed on a decorative tray. Bernice was sitting in the chair next to me. She gave me a hug, "Merry Christmas."

With Bernice here, I felt better. It's our first Christmas together and for once in a long time I felt it wasn't just Mom and I, but an actual family.

I surprised both Bernice and Mom when I ate three cinnamon buns and didn't feel sick at all. In fact, I felt pretty okay.

The day was filled with lots of music. And Mom and Bernice danced together. My mom even bought us cookie mix so we could bake together.

When the cookies were in the oven Mom told us she had some big news, "So, the other day my boss asked me why I was walking to work everyday. Instead of being smart and telling him that we live close I decided to tell him our situation. It was strange, I've never met a man so nice. He was so nice..."

"Come on Mom!" Bernice jumped, getting impatient.

"...He said he'd allowed us to stay with him until we get money flowing."

"Like live with him?" I asked.

"Mhm!" She nodded quickly, squealing.

Bernice screamed, along with my mom.

I didn't scream, I'm practically incapable of doing so, but I did join them in jumping. They were so happy, and I couldn't help but let it rub off on me a bit.