Author's note: This story has been edited. I would recommend reading from the beginning as plot points and storylines have been changed for a better flow.
Wondering the empty streets of the city that never sleeps. Malcolm was searching for just that...
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-Morning at Jessica Whitley's Residence-
“Good morning.” Malcolm greets with a forced smile walking up the long table to the head of it. Taking the seat closest to his mother who held a phone in one hand, a pen in the other that restlessly tapped on a blank notepad beneath it.
“Don’t lie to your Mother.” she scolds. “You look exhausted. If I have to bring you to the hospital my whole morning will be shot.” groaning dramatically as he lowered his head.
“You don’t have to worry.” was his only answer. “What’re you so busy with?” he eyes the various papers with business names he couldn’t care less to fake interest in. Taking the kettle he assumed it to be coffee pouring himself a cup.
“I am taking meetings for my charitable work.” She begins. “I’ve been thinking that maybe you were right.” She gives praise.
“Impossible.” He says after taking a sip from his cup making his Mother laugh.
“I shouldn’t be so cloak and dagger with my donations. My family’s foundation was once a fermentable force for good.” She lists in confidence. “I have put out calls to some wonderful nonprofits who would really benefit from my-“
“Cash.” Malcolm cuts off.
“Precisely.” She agrees. Turning back to her work. Her eyes furrow looking at her son’s shaking hand. “Talk to me.” She gets right to it. Giving her son her full attention taking his trembling hand into her own.
“About what?” he faked ignorance once again placing the fake smile on his lips that seemed to have fooled her for so many years.
“You’ve always listened to my issues. I want to be here for yours.” she coos. “These nightmares…er…memories.” She quickly corrects. “They’re getting worse.”. Malcolm’s behavior and appearance alone gave her, her answer.
“Yes, they are more vivid.” He admits lifting his head swallowing his pride looking his mother in the eyes. “I haven’t slept in days.” He sighs.
“Well.” She breathes “What you clearly need is an epic nap.” She prescribes. “What’s your take on barbiturates? Personally, I am a fan.” She holds her hands up showing no judgment.
“Only one thing seems to help me.” He declines. Seeing her brow raise and a hum sounding from her throat. She always pushed for him to be normal. Find a nice girl, settle down and have a couple of kids. Just to boost the family name and whatnot. Proving to the world that they’ve moved on and was the definition of a perfect family. He would roll his eyes if the gesture alone wasn’t exhausting. Everything he did was exhausting. Even blinking wore him out.
“I need a murder.” He smiles seeing the smirk on his mother’s face switch to a grimace was priceless.
“Your loss.” She huffs letting his hand go, but not before noticing the shimmer on his nails. “What on earth did you do to your nails!” She gasps inspecting his other hand that was the same. Malcolm groans snatching his hands from her hold stuffing them into his pockets. “Don’t tell me you invaded a little girl’s slumber party.” She chuckles at the thought.
