r e a p // michael clifford

Chapter Four: Click

"Why do you keep touching your neck? Are you okay?" Carter asked as he started pulling our food out of the oven. Since I missed lunch, he decided to make some mozzarella sticks for me.
"Yeah I just... Yeah." I responded. I didn't know how to explain what happened. He'd think I was crazy for sure.
"You're acting strange. You know you can talk to me Liza." Carter was very persistent when it came to me keeping things to myself. He hated when I didn't tell him outright what was on my mind. I never really understood why, because he wasn't always this way. Soon after he found out about my self harm habits, he became over protective of me. I appreciated it, but sometimes it got on my nerves.
"I'm okay, really. Just...shooken up is all." I let go of my neck and fondled with Jason's newspaper that he left. 
Jason sat across from me in my usual table seat, and he placed the plate of mozzarella and marinara in the center. I grabbed one and twirled it in my fingers before popping it in my mouth.
"I can't believe her. All for popularity? Honestly?" Carter shouted after grabbing a handful and placing it on his plate.
I didn't respond. It bugged me, and I didn't really want to talk about it.
"People said that you were bleeding, but you're not. You don't have any marks on you at all. No bruises, nothing." Carter continued. He took a bite of one sick before examining my face. I looked down at my plate.
"Liza, you know you can talk to me." Carter spoke gently, his mouth somewhat full.
"I know I can. I just don't want to talk about it, okay?"
The room stood still for a moment before Carter nodded in agreement.
It was awkward just sitting in the silence. Carter said no more; he just looked down at his plate while he ate.  I knew he was full of questions, and was dying to ask them. He was probably sorting out the possible answers in his head, too. Carter was one to always over think and over analyze any and all situations. I was like that sometimes, but Carter took it to the next level. He'd sort out any probably answer and theory he could imagine.  I knew he was itching to ask them, especially when his leg started shaking beneath the table.
"What's on your mind, kid?" I asked aloud
He let out a sigh of relief, as if the words were building up inside of him so much that he forgot to breathe. 
He hesitated, but then looked up. "It's kind of personal." He said.
"Carter just ask." I laughed slightly, "I mean you basically know anything anyways."
He laughed back, "Yeah, I guess so." He rubbed the back of his neck before his brown eyes, almost black, locked in with mine. "What happened?"

He didn't have to explain. I knew what he meant.
What happened to my biological parents all those years ago, is what he was asking.
"They had simultaneous heart attacks; I told you." I said matter of factory as I leaned back in my chair.
"Well, yeah. But I mean, that day. Did something else happen? Were they acting strange? Did they even seem sick?"
The memory played back in my head for the millionth time. I gripped the underneath of the table as I let out a deep breath."
"They were mad at me, but when were they not. They were always mad at me about something. My dad was drunk, and my mom was high. They were both angry and yelling when they came up the stairs; first at each other, then at me. And then...."
I couldn't talk about what happened after that. It was too much pain, physically and emotionally.
Carter was hesitant, yet gentle. "And after that?"
"After they went to the neighbors. I ran to the park and hid under a tree, with my doll. A man approached me.... He was..... Different. His hair was.....red. Bright red. And then the pain was gone. He was kind. And he told me....he told me he was an angel." I started laughing, "an angel. My mom came and found me and took me home. She.....she threw me in my room and went to bed. Next thing I know there's an ambulance at my door and they hauled them away."
"That's strange. It doesn't seem... Normal. This guy just told you that he was an angel, healed your pain, and then your parents died? Don't you think that's a bit odd?" Carter said.
I rubbed my arm nervously.
"Have you ever seen this guy since?" Carter asked.
Things started to click. The red haired guy that I saw before I blacked out.
The mansion, and the pianist.
He had red hair.

I had seen him again.

I shot up from the table and ran up the stair case. Carter called after me, but I didn't listen. I flung the bathroom door open, and there, on the counter sat one hot pink Barbie shoe.