tongue of the serpent ➵ a.b.

Chapter 45: Like Father Like Son

Wasting the night away was a simple task. With Art by my side and a cool fall breeze strolling by, I felt infinite. Art was a teaser, renting himself a hotel room on my floor. I asked Andy if it was fine if I stayed over there for the night, just to catch up with him. He happily agreed, kissing me goodnight, which made Art choke up, oddly.

As we approached the room, Art silently pulled a key from his wallet, swiping the card in the slot. The door jingled a happy, free tone; it was happy to see his master again.

I just had to ask! "Art, were you tensing up back there?"

His eye color hits me as he whips his head around, allowing his locks some freedom in the wind. He seems more mature, yet a little more family-oriented. "Lethia, you're my little, baby sister." He sets down his jacket, stripping of his leather barrier from the outside world. "I know it's bullshit, but I've heard things about him."

I almost laugh in a corrosive manner at his worry. I was 18 now, I needn't any protection. "Don't believe them, idiot. They just want to make a quick buck." I take a seat on his one bed. It is full of dirty clothes, scattered like ashes in an ash tray.

"I'm sorry for not trying to contact you, Leth."

"For the billionth time, do not call me by that name!"

"I can't help it!" he teases. "Mom and I have been watching you on Battle of the Acts, you know? When your name was announced, we were in shock. We thought there was another Lethia Harper on stage...like that even was a possibility." He picks at the hem of his shirt, biting his lip. "Mom was really proud of you."

"Oh," is all I say in return. I spy a red carton; a red carton of fags. Marlboro. "I didn't know you smoked."

Art smiles. Oh, how I miss that smile! "I just picked up the habit. A lot of the family does it. It sort of just rubbed off on me."

"Andy smokes a shit-ton and you don't see me lighting up," I tease, throwing them down on the suitcase. I clear the air, asking a serious question. "Does Mom know?"

He smirks, his eyes catching that mischievous flame. "Hell no. She'd kill me. She threatened Dad when he started, but we all know how that went..."

A chilling memory creeps its path upwards on my spine, lifting my eyes heavenwards, telling me to gaze upon the dead. The memory of my father smoking for the first times; the memory of my mother fighting against him. She eventually lost, like all her other battles with the beast. She never really could see it coming...

"All of this is surreal to me," I motion, shaking my head downwards, walking towards the balcony. "I just don't get it. He's passed on? Something just doesn't seem right." I open the glass sliding-door. I step outside and dryness hits the pores on my skin, whipping me like sand. "Just...Something's missing."

Art follows me outside, standing near the exit onto the balcony. He leans against the door frame, carrying himself in his most suspicious manner. "What do you mean?"

I lash outwards, pleading for an answer. "How did he die?"

Art chokes up, chest caving in. "It was rather...sorrowful." His frame presses through the door. He begins to walk to me. "As I said earlier, I've been living with the family for a year now. The only reason I ever went was because Mom contacted me about some bullshit right after you left the house yourself." I left junior year of high school (dropping out in the process) with Frey and Kane, off to seeking high-end dreams. As you could imagine, my dad was furious, but he said he was going to let me dig my own hellhole. "Anyway, she told me she knew of an escape for getting away from Dad, and she needed my help and expertise to execute it." He pauses, licking his lips. "I agreed and brought her to Ohio, where both of our parent's families were settled."