Paranoid With a Polaroid

He's a Little Muddy

Casey got home that night to see his dad still was not home. He was starting to get afraid at this point - even though he didn't like his dad much, he was still family, and that mattered. His mother, however, told him it was no big deal and told him to head upstairs and do his homework.

It didn't ease his suspicions though. She was still being too nice.
His mom brought up his dinner for him - microwave lasagna and a cup of orange juice. That was odd. Normally she made homemade dinners, but Casey didn't question it.

He finished his dinner, and then brought his dishes down to his mom. "Hey, are you sure everything's okay with dad?"

"Yes, Casey. He's just... busy." His mom didn't even look up at him.

Casey awkwardly wandered over to the sink, dropping his dishes into it, and then started for the stairs. He patted his mom on the back as he walked past her, and she looked up at him. They made eye contact for a brief millisecond before Casey turned away and quickened his pace. She had been crying.

-

He collapsed onto his bed and turned off the lights, but he left the Christmas ones on. Yes, he had Christmas lights hanging around the perimeter of his bedroom. He used them more often than his normal lights - he'd gotten used to the dark and learned to enjoy it.

He stared up at the ceiling, and just thought. He knew he wasn't going to get much sleep that night, if any, and he couldn't get the image of his mother's tear-washed face out of his head either. So he didn't close his eyes.

-

Casey heard his mother coming up the stairs, and checked his watch. 0:04. He really should be asleep. He closed his eyes and covered his face a little bit more with the blanket, just to make it seem like he was asleep.

To his surprise, he heard his bedroom door creak open and he could feel the soft flow of golden light from the hallway on his bed. He heard his mom's sock-muffled footsteps as she got closer to his bed. He turned slightly so that he wouldn't be facing her when she realized he was awake.

He felt her looking over him and tried to contain himself. This was weird. She never entered his room anymore at all unless she needed him to do something for her or her husband.

He tried desperately not to cringe as she rested her hand on his shoulder. He could feel his heart pumping wildly inside his chest

And the milliseconds in which she showed him love, Casey was afraid.

-

Casey woke up, sometime around probably 2:00, but he didn't check his watch because he really didn't care enough to know.

He needed to get out and calm his nerves, and he could still feel the awkward imprint of his mother's hand on his left shoulder. He sat up, cringing, and rubbed his shoulder until he couldn't feel it anymore.

His Christmas lights were still on. He felt his way over to his desk, trying not to kick anything that might be lying around on his floor. Even Christmas lights don't particularly help if you're as clumsy as he was. He picked up his camera and climbed up onto his desk. He stood up, balancing himself, and turned slowly to face the lights.

He reached up and angled his camera slightly so that it was right next to a light, and the other lights just blurred behind it. The camera flashed, then beeped three times. The camera began to whir as it printed the pale yellow photograph. Casey climbed down off of his desk and shook the photo until he could see it clearly. He smiled groggily and set it down.

Casey needed to go out again tonight - he couldn't resist. He pulled on the pair of jeans from the two days before, since nobody was going to see him, and a warm sweater. He waddled clumsily, slowly, over to his window. It honestly wouldn't surprise him if he were to fall out of the tree, but at least it would wake him up if he did.