Grayson Snaps

Chapter 10: Razors and Teeth

Chapter 10: Razors and Teeth

Grayson is in the bathroom on the second floor-the one with the big, white bathtub-attempting to shave his legs. They are getting more and more hairy. It's like his body is fighting it. Fighting the razor. Fighting the foam. Fighting the water. Fighting himself. But, at this point having bald legs is better than having wolf-man hairy legs. Grayson moves his hand down, catching the hairs. They're coarse and a brown-gray.

Grayson has lit a series of candles along the bathtub's rim and on the countertop. He has one of Lisa's disposable razors in one hand and foam in the other. He's in his boxers, the tub halfway full of warm water, and the lights are off. The only light given is by candlelight. They flicker, casting shadows along the quiet walls. All there is the slight dripping of the water and Grayson sitting on the rim of the tub, breathing shakily.

Ethan had decided to take a nap when they got home, and even though he knows his brother desperately needs the sleep, Grayson can't help feeling the urge to wake him. He wants him here. To keep him company. Someone to talk to. Someone to distract him.

"Fuck! Fuck!" He says, hitting his foot against the wall, splashing up water. He has accidently sliced the edge of the razor into his skin. The blood drips into the water. Drip, drip...

But something catches his eyes.

Grayson glances down.

"What the fuck..." he mumbles, grabbing at his foot. Right beside the main bone on the outside looks like a claw-thick and sharp and a dark brown-protruding from the flesh. With a finger he pokes at it. Sure enough...

"Dad's battery is dead again. He's stranded-" comes Lisa's voice as she practically bursts into the bathroom, slamming on the light switch. With a panicked look, Grayson freezes, letting his foot slip into the water again. He doesn't even look up at her.

He yanks back the curtain quickly, hearing her voice rise in the air like cigarette smoke. Her shoes click on the tile. There's the distinct jingle of car keys in her clenched fist.

"Want to go for a ride?" She says perkily, watching the outline of her son behind the thin plastic of the smoky gray curtain. His heart is thudding in his chest, the panic ebbing into anger.

"Jesus, can't you knock?!"

"Don't you 'Jesus' me. You don't have anything I haven't seen before. Okay?" She says, not exactly put off by Grayson's behavior, but still disappointed that her son acts like this.

"That's what you think." Grayson mumbles, looking down at his feet submerged in the luke warm water.

"What is that suppose to mean?" She says, but not stepping closer. Grayson fears that she may, though.

"I'm just, I-I'm ugly. I'm scrawny. Now, just get out!" He yells, his voice practically dripping with agitation.

"Grayson, you're not ugly. And you're not scrawny. Those weightlifters are all on steroids to look like that, you know. You are very well built for a young man your age. You have to stop ordering those magazines."

She must've noticed the array of magazines that are stacked on the floor by the shower rug. He had been leafing through them to pass the time when Ethan went to sleep and then when he was running the bath water.

"Please, Mom. GET OUT!" Grayson belts at the top of his lungs, hands clinched into fists on his lap. There's a moment of pure silence. You can hear the dropping of a needle, it is so quiet.

"Okay. Gosh." She finally says, turns with a bitter, disappointed sigh, and closes the door behind her.

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