The GreyHatter (Completed)

Chapter 13

I banged the door of my old house. I was not surprised that it has changed: the roof was still worn from the harsh rain, the walls remain in hideous orange, and the lawn grew unkempt and wild.
The doors of the house looked as if there were recovering from a gruesome war.

Its unstable paint somehow came on my hand. I rolled my eyes then banged on the door again. Still, no one has answered. I walked around the house until I found a half open window. Taking a deep breath, I climbed inside.

Judging by the foul smell of liquor, I was in my mother's room. Empty wine bottles scattered across the wooden floorboards. Her gigantic bed was covered in either tears or drool. It was pathetic for me being sorry at Mom for being an alcoholic. Even when she promised to stop drinking, there were bottles of magenta colored liquid stored in the closet.

I took a package out of my pocket then placed it in my mother's drawer. I then took out a piece of paper and pen, and wrote a letter.

Dear Mom, I wrote. I am fine, I am in a different state, so do not come and find me on your own. The reason why I can't come home, not only did you, Clarence, and the girls  torment me, but also I have something important to do on my own. I am seventeen years old, just in case the wine gets into your head.

I have already met my father in jail, he's fine, I think it's the prison food has been making him sick. I also know you have contacted a Private Investigator to come and report my activities. I was thinking about being angry at you for doing that stupid stunt, but I am not.

I understand that I caused you pain and grief. I just want you to know that...I love you Mom as much as I love Dad. Please, be careful. Don't drink anymore wine.

Sincerely,
Your son,Wyatt

P.S. Don't show the letter or the package to Clarence or the girls. He is a very dangerous man. After you are finished reading the letter and taking out the contents of the package, burn them.

After reading the letter twice, I folded the parchment then attached it with a piece of tape and stick underneath the bed as well as the package.

I knew it was reckless, telling my mom I love her in a letter instead of in person. But instead of doing that, I slipped out of house then took a plane back to Chicago.

"Alright, Caleb Joyce," said the energetic man in the front desk. "You are all set." He gave me back my stamped passport then widened his smile. I nodded then took the passport without saying a word.

As I marched to the airplane, I readjusted my cap and sunglasses. The first thing when I go home is, I desperately wanted to take off my itchy contacts and my fake mustache. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone notices my disguise.

"Excuse me," the flight attendant said politely. "We are almost in Chicago, would you like some refreshments?" "Some water please," I said in a Southern voice. "Yes sir," the flight attendant said quickly.

The flight attendant disappeared in the cockpit, then returned with a cup of cold water. "Thank you, kindness." I complimented, taking the cup. The flight attendant blushed then scurried away.

I rest my head back then closed my eyes for a brief moment until a man in a black suit sit next to me.