Free Me (bxb)

Part 32

"Cuz I have hella feelings for you, I act like I don't fucking care, cuz I'm so fucking scared."
: Blackbear - idfc 

It's about six-thirty, an hour before Griffin is supposed to be up in the morning for school, when he hears his dad leave the house. He isn't sure where he's going, but he's got a feeling that he's going to be going to Poughkeepsie for more supplies for the farm that Tivoli and Red Hook just don't provide. Being alone in the house used to be something Griffin was completely comfortable with, why wouldn't he be at his age?, but now, there's this twisting unease that curls tightly in his stomach and leaves him suffocated.

He abandons the YouTube videos that weren't even helping distract him much at all in the first place, to go take a shower. The shower always makes him feel better when he's anxious, and now it really isn't any different, but this time it's a dissimilar type of anxiety he's feeling. It isn't the type of anxiety that can be numbed with a shower, it's like a plaguing thing always on the back of his mind. Even so, the small size of the tub is almost comforting when most would find it confining, and though there's only a shower curtain blocking him off from the rest of the world, it feels as if it's a lot more than that. The anxiety never leaves and instead it stays a constant tight knot in his stomach.

He scrubs away at his skin with his body wash as if he's trying to cleanse himself of a murder of three men he didn't commit, and at the same time, he's trying to scrape away the wrongness of Keith's heated touch and lips that he can't stop himself from enjoying. He's sick inside, he knows that more than anybody else ever will, but for a second last night he felt like maybe he wasn't. He needs to rid himself of that feeling of false security before it becomes the very thing that rips him to shreds.

When his skin is red and stinging from the wash cloth, he quits trying to clean himself so violently. He's never going to rid of anything this way anyway. And he's not wanting to try and physically harm himself in a fruitless attempt to do so. He climbs out of the shower, gets dressed then goes downstairs to clean the mud out of the tires of his bike. If he worked so hard to clean himself off, he might as well successfully scrape away all the mud from the crime scene out of his tires.

He's halfway done, and is almost able to start thinking about something else other than dead men or Keith's mouth and body, when he heard his dad's truck pull up in front of the barn shed. He looks up, confused as to why his dad is driving his truck around town instead of that brand new SUV he just bought. He never drives his truck unless he's doing something farm related or going fishing- shit.

"Griffin!" his dad calls out as soon as he's out of his truck, and there's an edge to his voice. It isn't angry or disappointed like Griffin is used to hearing, it's just something he can't really put his finger on. "Did you go riding up at the cabin last night? Or yesterday at all."

"N-no, Dad. Why?" His breath catches in his throat, and his heart is racing in his chest again. Logically he knows that his dad can't see any remnants of Keith's kisses on his mouth or skin, or the blood of murder victims that hadn't even sprayed onto him, but he can't help but feel as if he's wide open on display for all those to see. His dad's scrutinizing eyes aren't helping in the least.

"There were some men murdered inside the cabin sometime yesterday. Sheriff Torrance told me it had to do with gang related issues, so it's nothing for us to worry about, but I know you go out there riding a lot."

Griffin swallows thickly and he scrapes particularly hard at the mud in his tires, and the almost-fresh mud falls away without a fight. He wishes it gave a little resistance, at least then he would be able to pretend to be busy with something for longer. "There hasn't ever been a murder here before, has there?"