See In Him

3

Aja went to bed around six. She would have to be up to leave for work by at least four, if not earlier. Kennith finally heard his father close his laptop and make his way upstairs, down the hall, and into their bedroom at ten-thirty. Another hour passed; Kennith immersed himself in Confucius' theory. The house was silent, deafeningly so, save for his father's snoring. Jesse had obviously gone to bed, so he decided that eleven-thirty would be the perfect time to finally ease his groaning stomach.

The boy left his light off and, without disturbing the quiet or bashing his toes against any door frames, snuck down the hallway. His footsteps were stifled by the carpet rolled over the hardwood. Nothing creaked. The heartbeat in his ears competed with the snoring.

Kennith was alright until he found the edge of the railing, signalling the beginning of the stairs. He didn't like stairs. They were alright going up; normally he subconsciously knew how high they were. Going down was different, though, especially in the low light. In the best of light, the stairs faded until they looked like a kind of ramp. The steps never ended, no matter how hard he squinted. It was too easy to miss the edge of one and go sprawling on the floor—he had done that before. The arm he had broken sometimes even still ached faintly when he stood at the top of the steps. Since then, he gripped the railing for dear life and traced the edge of each step with his toes. It took a long time, so long that Kennith wanted to scream in frustration, but the fear of falling was far too strong for him to act as brave as he wanted to.

By the time his bare foot touched cold hardwood, he released a heavy breath and finally realized that he was sweating. In an attempt to ease the discomfort, he shook the neck of his t-shirt quickly, adjusted his sweatpants, and blew the dark hair from his face.

The house was black. Even the glow from the street lamps perforating the windows didn't help him. Kennith knew his way to the kitchen. Shuffling feet and small sighs were the sounds that followed him when he finally found the cool metal of the fridge handle. Above and to the right, just as he did earlier, he could easily reach up and mechanically find the cupboard holding the cups. He had forgotten the other one from his room, although he knew that it wasn't alone. His desk, if not cleaned by his mother or father, had become a minefield of chip bags and old, stagnant water glasses.

All but one of the cups with lids were gone. It took some feeling, but he eventually found the one he was searching for and held it under the ice machine. The only reason he knew exactly where it was was the little blue dot of light that shone above the ice button. His finger covered it for a moment while he filled the cup, his world encased in total darkness, before he decided that the cup was heavy enough and released the light. The green light beside it was for cold water. It trickled loudly from the machine.

"I thought you were, like, refusing to leave your bedroom," a sudden voice caused him to jump, his body freezing. With his body, his hand froze, too, and his cup of ice water was sent splattering onto the floor. It didn't shatter, thankfully, but he could hear the ice skitter across the floor. Water splashed up over his feet and soaked into his pants. Kennith released a yelp of shock.

"Fucking hell!" he yelled before he knelt on the wet, cold floor, seeming to forget his parents sleeping soundly upstairs. A chair creaked across the room when Jesse stood from it. The sound turned Kennith's brain into a time bomb. The clock was fucking ticking. The ice cube that he managed to find burnt his hand.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you saw the light from my phone screen. Thought you were, like, ignoring me."

Kennith wouldn't have been able to. Unless he had looked in that exact direction, the black spots in the sides of his vision concealed anything and everything. "I'm blind, you fucking idiot." The boy was seething again, staring blankly at the floor as he dumped sopping-wet ice cubes into his cup. The cold, wet, and hard floor made him want to cry. It's dirty. It feels dirty. Why hadn't the asshole been sleeping? Did he normally sit in families' kitchen while they slept?

"Seriously, I'm really sorry. And I'd love it if you didn't call me that. It was an accident."

Jesse's plea made Kennith pause and glare at him. His phone sat on the counter with the flashlight setting facing up. The ceiling was brightened slightly, so he assumed that Jesse could probably see fine in the low light. It certainly didn't help him at all. "You're a fucking creep. You just sit in kitchens? I thought mom and dad gave you a fucking room to sleep in."

"Why do you keep swearing at me? I said I was sorry." Jesse's voice wasn't venomous; he seemed genuinely confused, glancing up at the boy as he picked up the last two ice cubes. Kennith continued to knock his across the floor when he tried to reach for them. For the first time in a long time, Kennith had come face-to-face with someone who didn't end up returning his anger. He was aching for a fight, a reaction, for Jesse to start yelling. Even if neither of them got into any trouble, it would be worth it. Kennith craved the fight.

"What the hell is going on?" The kitchen light flipped on. Kennith could hear it click loudly and he was suddenly blinded by yellow light. Aja cast an ominous, blurry shadow over the both of them. His mother didn't sound happy, which riled Kennith up even more. "This fuckwad spilt my drink," he hissed, standing. His heart burnt his chest and he salivated with the promise of an argument. His mind screamed at the freezing water under his feet. It almost felt as if the water was rising, drowning him under a rage-filled panic attack. He was close to the edge.

"Sorry, Mrs. Arche. I scared him. He dropped it. It's my fault. I was just reading at the island."

"You're right. It is your fault," he hissed, stomping around Jesse and past his mother. She huffed and decided against following her son. Instead, she grabbed the cloth off the counter and dropped it onto the floor. Her foot worked it back and forth to mop up the mess. Jesse stood to toss the ice cubes into the sink. "It's alright, Mrs. Arche. You can go back to bed. This is what people pay me to do."

"Well, I wouldn't have woken you up if you were asleep just to clean up spilled water. If he comes out of his room at night, we know not to bother him. I apologize for his behaviour."

"Don't. I've worked for a few people like him, especially in the hospital before I started working in-home. Words really don't hurt me anymore; I've heard worse."

"He'll take some getting used to, but I promise that he's not usually this bad."

Jesse sighed and picked up the cloth. He wrang it out in the sink and draped it over the edge. "Have a good night, Aja," he smiled as he picked up the deserted cup and set it on the counter to wash tomorrow morning. Despite their son, Jesse was already enjoying working with the new family. The one before hadn't interacted with him much; he liked being more than just a cleaner. During his time as an in-home assistant, he had made a lot of life-long friends.

Kennith wasn't a friend, but he would certainly be remembered as the seventeen-year-old with a parasite up his ass.

Upstairs, Kennith allowed the tears to flow. He was still angry, but almost disturbed, too, hating the fact that he couldn't help but hate other people. He hated the fact that he couldn't see; some moments just reminded him of that more than others. Outside his door and through the sobs, Kennith could hear his mother climbing the stairs. She didn't make a move to open his door, though, and instead slammed her own. Hushed voices conversed briefly before the silenced.

It made it harder to hide his sobs.