Chapter Twenty-Five - Snowflake in the Blizzard (p.1)

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OAKWOOD, WEST VIRGINIA


THE DOORBELL RANG UNREMITTINGLY before he was able to hear it over his blaring headphones. Beyond the door to his room, the shouting downstairs quieted until it was suspicious. His father's heavy footsteps bounded across the living room, grumbling, and farther away, his mother was making the floor squeak from shifting her weight so anxiously.

Chuck slid off his headphones to listen in. The house fell completely silent. He wondered if whoever waited outside had heard all the commotion through the walls. They must have. But Chuck didn't remember them expecting anyone this afternoon. He'd just returned from school and hurried to fly out of sight before his parents got home from work. It wouldn't be the first time a neighbour would grow concerned over an instance like this.

The voice was too weak and calm to be recognized from upstairs. His father answered gruffly, asking questions in exchange. The newcomer must be a salesperson or whatever, he guessed. 

Chuck riveted his gaze back to his computer screen, waving off the incident as one that his parents will handle. As soon as that front door would close, it'll start all over again. There was no escaping it, no hoping that it'll ever stop, and the only way to forget about it was to blast the music volume to the loudest and pretend to jam. Except that it didn't happen like it usually did.

Chuck heard his father stomp up the stairs slowly, and in a flash, his door swiped open. Dad's thick, veiny forearm held onto the knob, his hand curled into a meaty fist. His face was still red from the shouting, and his gray mustache was twitching over his upper lip.

"There's a kid from school here to see you," he muttered.

Chuck avoided looking at his eyes. It was the best strategy to stay out of his fury when he was in a bad mood.

"What?" he said in an almost-whisper. Nobody ever came to visit him, and then fear gripped him whole. One had recently pulled him out of the house and nearly choked him to death during winter break. "Who is it?"

He hadn't done anything since that day and promised himself he'd never bother these people again. They were too much trouble. Chuck tried not to think about it often, because it inevitably amounted to him beating himself up at night about the two high-schoolers who had died. He hadn't known them well, but knew enough to deduce their innocence.

Chuck's father shrugged. "Didn't ask his name. Looks all pretentious if you ask me. He said it was important."

Chuck swallowed hard, wondering if he would get pummeled like all the other times, humiliated by the fact that not just his father took a liking to the shot, but that the rest of the world seemed to share that inclination. He nodded and rose from his bed. Dad stepped to the side to let him pass, sniffing loudly.

Chuck walked down the stairs, a flurry of nerves bubbling inside him the closer he approached the door. Turning the corner, a second before he was visible in the hall, he saw his mother standing in the kitchen. She was staring out the window above the sink, her hands stilled over a wet dish and a sponge. Her eyes were distant and puffy as she furiously blinked tears away.

He couldn't help. She wouldn't even look at him. Chuck moved towards the hall and finally appeared at the door.

The boy waiting on the porch with his hands in his pockets was Miles. All the warnings he'd been given raced through his mind, and he briefly considered slamming the door in his face, but it was no use. If Miles wanted, he could find him at school or anywhere else until he decided to hear him out. 

Paling, Chuck slinked past the threshold and ventured out in the chilly air, leaving the door ajar behind him.

"What do you want?" His eyes narrowed, harsh yet pleading to be left alone.

Miles displayed an apologetic smile and kept his hands in the pockets of his black down jacket. His car was parked down the road next to the stone curb. "Just to talk." He glanced back at the door, one eyebrow slightly crinkling. "Everything alright in there, man?"

"Yeah. Is that why you headed over here—to check on me?" He wasn't believing that.

"Well, partly, yes. In fact, I was sent to bring you to the police station." Before Chuck could ask why as his brain tailspinned, he added, "You did nothing wrong, don't worry. There are just people who want to speak with you, and I'll tag along."

"You mean the feds?" His fingers and knees felt numb all of a sudden. No. There was no way he'd get dragged into this more than he had been already. Enough damage had been caused.

"Yeah, them. But you won't be alone, okay? I got you. They just want to check in with you on a few things."

"No. This is wrong." He subtly made a receding step towards the house and the frozen wood creaked underneath him. He'd rather confront his raging parents than jump in Miles' car and ride to the police station. "Whatever you guys are doing, I can't be a part of this, so please leave me out of it."

He began to shuffle back inside and open the door when a glove clasped his arm with a firm, solid pressure. Chuck stared at Miles and tried to tug himself free, but the guy had a surprising amount of strength in spite of his lanky form. His eyes, usually smiley and warm at school, darkened as they latched onto Chuck's.

"It'd be smarter to just take me up on this. If they can't make you come to them, they'll come to you," he pronounced with a startling composure.

Chuck struggled to inhale even when he let go of his arm. As he gazed at his house and through the glass frame, wishing he could refuse and hide in his room, he realized that there was no escape. He'd been sucked into this by a force stronger than himself, and fighting would bring him problems that could ruin his life. Those agents didn't mess around. Judging by the way that Miles' voice had tensed, all hopes were off. He carefully distanced himself from the door, shivering under a stirring wind.

"Just give me a second to get my coat," he said and felt so defeated and crushed, like he was waiting for the day to finish and slip to bed. Probably to never wake up. "I'll... I'll have to warn my parents that I'm going out, too." 


❃ ❃


Chuck is a disbalanced person, and I must WARN you all right now, that some disturbing, perhaps triggering (more than anything else I've written so far) scenes may follow regarding him, and I've already scattered hints in his thought process. You might realize what I'll be referring to in part two. I have not put the trigger warning in the summary (even though it's labeled as mature) because I thought I'd delete that part from the story when in fact it serves a purpose. 

On that note, see you in part two. 

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