Tempest

Chapter 7

Sorry its been so long but my mother is kinda obsess with work and her laptop broke so she was using mine... i hope you guys like it.

AND PLEASE REMEMBER TO COMMENT. i like to know what u think

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Destiny finally decided to make peace with me and I didn’t encounter any other unwanted surprise of what remained of the day. Although, of course, he did assure of constantly assault me with memory whips of my mother that followed me all day like a shadow. Not even Kristel, my new added worry was able to divert my thought from my family.

I parked the Audi three houses down so it could not be seen from my mother’s house windows. I didn’t knew why I was there but to be frank I had not put too much thought into it. The only thing I was certain about was that I needed to see them. I hoped naively that by looking at them my grief would decrease; that my guilt will find some sort of comfort.

I nimbly climbed up the tree that leaded to the window of my room turned into a studio. I entered the penumbra of the room partially illuminated by the street lamps.  My eyes didn’t need to adjust to the dim light.

My steps drove me to my brother’s bedroom. He was summited in a profound sleep.

His room was a resounding mess. Trash, papers, textbooks and clothes rested disorderly on nearly every surface.

The room was his very personal sanctuary; all about books, music, comics, mangas and videogames. It was a bit timeless, with some nods to current technology mixed with antique and classic equipment. Sleek ledgers, pin ups and posters brought the neutral black and white walls alive. One wall had two guillotine windows, and another was taken over completely with wall mounted shelving, containing books, a huge music collection and audio gear. A small desk in a side was crowded with an enormous and antique Apple desktop and a PhotoFun old TV.

In the only neat corner of the room I saw my old Gibson Melody Maker electric guitar still in perfect state besides an amplifier. I smiled melancholically.

The nightstand was camouflaged among a pile of papers. A few were catalogs of prom tuxedos and limos. The rest medical bills and a statement account in negative. Between them there was a single picture. An utterly different Dorian smiled warmly –unlike his present empty and forced grin - besides a blonde girl I recognized as Kayla. They looked younger. Dorian had cropped short hair and Kayla’s displayed a different collage of colors.

The alarm clock on the floor by my feet rang filling room with noise and Dorian’s eyes swan open.

If there was a irrefutable prove of the tie blood that united us it was on our eyes. Same shape, same thick eye-lashes, same iris of that unusual deep blue.

Just by seconds Dorian didn’t discovered me in his room. Fortunately I had been fast enough to hide in his closet before he finished waking up. Surpassing human speed had sometimes its advantages.

I watched closely Dorian’s movements through the cracks of the closet doors. Lucky for me all the content of his closet was more likely to me on the floor of the room than in the closet itself.

Still sleepy he clumsily put on a white-red uniform I didn’t recognize and slightly fixed his hair on the mirror. Short minutes later a muscle car honked and Dorian rushed outside with shoes that matched his uniform in hand.

I heard him talking with Sandra, my mother’s nurse, and then he left to work.

I drove to Summer Isle; the small affluent sector of Rain Forest, where Santos had bought a house for me in De Ravin Street.