The Silenced Souls [Editing Process]

Ch. Four - Touch

With firm hands on the wheel, and a hardened face resembling stone, the "scribbler" drove onward at a speed fit for a cop to present a ticket.

Mystifying, considering he was an exceedingly careful driver, almost as careful as a paranoid kid with a new driver's license.

"You do realize we're going at 70. That's past the speed limit of 45."

No sign of acknowledgement.

I tried a different approach.

"Maybe if you could slow down, 'cause we're in the area where Lionel is."

The side of his lips moved.

"My brother. I want to make sure he's okay."

He tapped his index finger against the wheel, and allowed the engine to relax, all the way down to a reasonable 40.

"You're gonna keep going straight. After the traffic light, we're gonna turn right; there'll be a big apartment with a parking lot." I instructed.

The ambient soon dropped back to its deafening silent, not to mention uneasy mood.

I knew why he was like this ... Well, sort of.

Actually, scratch that. No.

It was too presumptuous of me to deem this as him being jealous, but it was a possibility that I didn't rule out entirely.

I mean, only Jesus knew how long he'd been living as a hermit without a female pivoting around him, fulfilling all of his needs.

Wait.

Hold on a fucking second.

I mean, as a huge fan of his that I claimed to be, obviously I had questions, but this was going kind of far.

Do I actually want to know what his love life is like? Sex life even?

A man with a perfectly toned body like his, and a gorgeous face to go with it I found unthinkable that perhaps he hadn't been with a woman for who the hell knew how long.

You're a fucking wonder, Kristen.

Just then, he made a nice turn to the right, and proceeded to enter the parking lot.

I gazed in wonder at the apartment building.

How many years had it been again?

Nel always talked big of buying a house with a property he'd build into. If we we're lucky enough we'd get a fluffy dog with an even temperament, like say a Saint Bernard or a Golden Retriever.

Then after a few more fights with the big guns with the promise of huge rewards, he'd retire and leave behind a legacy.

Looking back on it, it actually looked like it was gonna work out.

All it was now was just a cruel distort of irony.

With a low huff, I put my handle on the door, but not before turning back to Jude.

Finally, he stopped pretending I wasn't on the same planet; his orbs fixed on me, and his grave mien hinted a question.

"You don't have to come with me." I replied to his mute query. "I'll be right back."

The car was parked only a few feet away from the building, so I didn't have to prolong my amble.

I opened the glass door, walked along the near slippery floor, and knocked on a gray door to the left.

"Mr. Benson."

The door opened ajar, the chain lock dangling in between the short gap.

"Wood? The crease between his forehead formed.