The Hatch

Prologue

The Hatch

Prologue

He felt unsure, but that was nothing new. He always felt unsure. Myca James Abell questioned everything. Not questions about life, no not the mysteries of the world, what to say, or if what he was doing was right. He questioned himself. Whether he was worth anything at all, if his death would matter, the world would continue to spin, so he questioned why did he remain ? He didn’t hate living, he hated the pain that came with living. Which in moments that would come and go, in a blink of an eye, there were these seconds where he questioned if he was truly living? He knew the answer, and the answer was always no, but he continued to pretend he was. As if pretending he was living would form into more than just existing.

The clock would go off in the morning, and he would wake with a grim sadness and mourn he had to get up and go to work, but didn’t everybody? What about the ones who loved their job, they didn’t feel this way when the sound would go off. Perhaps that was a way just to keep us sane, pretend we love to get up, clock in to the 9-5 job. Just say you love your job, fake it till you make it? Or was he the only one with the philosophy that the more he fakes it, the more real it becomes, but it never mended into that reality that he eventually ended up loving it, he only hated it more. No one would know it though, he hardly spoke, let alone hardly did anyone ask how he truly felt.

He chose this job, he started this career. All this was his choice, why would there be time to mourn a decision nobody forced upon you. Might as well go with it than. So every morning at 4am, he would sigh, feel a slight headache approach, take two migraine reliefs, that were hardly any relief with a sip of water and another sigh and get dressed for work.

And as his eyes would open to the bright sun, there were no thoughts, what was there to think? Beside get up, brush teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast and head to work. With what to do at work when you get there on your mind, and nothing else. There is an open house he had to show, had to look nice, but he felt he always had to look nice. Approachable, respectable to be exact. Had to keep his mind on track, it was trained quite well, it never truly wandered though, at least not on topics of truly any interest beside work. More often than not, it was rather open space of silence in his mind. He zoned out, feeling his mind deserved the comfort of silence, even though his whole life was quiet.

So when he received the devastating call from his mother. It was nearly the gasp from the audience that he needed. That's if his whole life was a show, and everyone was watching. Merely an actor waiting for the cut scene, so they can move on to something more intriguing. In this moment, his life was on the verge of being a tragic comedy. He needed a change of scenery, even if that meant the only way to see it was over the speaker phone "son, I don't believe I'm going to make it much longer". So that 2 hour plane ride, might of been worth it all, if only it was on good standards beside wondering if you may have messed up your whole life by running away from the problem. Now he was running to the problem. His mother's lung cancer to be exact. She would call him Myca, and he hated his name. No one called him that, so he would cringe at his mother if she spoke that two syllable name. “Please call me Abell”, is what he would say in response. That's if his mother would actually open the door. It remained closed for most of his whole life as far back as he could remember.

Soft ball games she never showed. She was too busy with Myca her new boyfriend after his father died, she never arrived at any of his events. Cindy Marie Abell was never near. So on that dreadful day in 6th grade, that day the town would never forget, that day the town would never be the same. Cindy could not be found, while Myca sat in the pouring rain.

In the valley he would sit with friends when he was young, walk amongst the tall trees in the forest to get there. Nature spoke loudly, but even then he hardly listened. He was too busy being a kid, or so his mother would say “go outside, don’t stay home, go play, mommy’s busy, you have other friends you know.”

If only back than if he had the nerve to say “You aren't a mother, and you’re hardly a friend.” Instead of running away, maybe than things could have been resolved than. Instead of 28 years later when his mother decides to tell him that shes leaving that place too. Now he has to go back to that one place he decided to leave so very long ago, but who was he kidding. He was merely giving himself an excuse to return home. He was merely giving himself an excuse to change.