He Came Through the Window

Part 14

[Originally I planned to make this one, really long chapter, but the real action will be in the next chapter. Bear with me, my pretties!]

(Holland's Perspective)

The next few days were some of the hardest I'd ever experienced. The apartment was quiet and tense, a sickening feeling surrounding each room. India's bedroom remained closed, untouched and forbidden. I spent my nights laying in bed, staring up at the broken ceiling fan with tears in my eyes, waiting for my mother to begin crying in her sleep. It was then when I would slowly force myself out of bed, gritting my teeth at the fatigue plaguing my muscles. Rubbing my bloodshot, irritated eyes, I'd crack open my mother's door and rock her in my arms, same as I would do to India. My mother's agonizing, desperate cries rang through the room, sending stabbing sensations through my heart.

Those nights were long and agonizing, and it made me wish that everything was just a terrible nightmare. Even when my mom finally did drift off into a slumber, I still couldn't sleep. My thoughts were plagued with images of the gurney being wheeled away with a white sheet covering the body, images of India's body flailing wildly as she took her last breaths. Over the roar of screeching cars outside my bedroom window and sirens in the distance, I heard the erratic beeping of the cardiac monitor and the choking sounds from an innocent, little girl. I felt worse than I did when my father left. When he left, infuriation ate away at me because I couldn't grasp the reasons for his departure. He was also just at the other end of the country, whereas I would never see my little sister alive again. But like I did when I was twelve years old, I spent any freetime hid away in my bedroom. I couldn't even bear to look at my guitar or the living room piano. Even my drum sticks lay still on my dresser.

On November 4, two days after India passed, I personally handed my boss resignation forms. The fury in his eyes and the way he fiercly sucked in his beer gut made me step back and hide behind another co-worker. He chuckled a bit, but he was far from being amused. "That's funny," He said sternly. "I was days away from firing your ass."

I stepped out from behind my stout, trembling co-worker and got a few inches away from the old, fat asshole who had been giving me hell since graduation.

"Ambrock," He said through his teeth. "you don't want to get any closer to me or-"

My fist collided with his filthy mug, and he barrelled backward toward the ground. The other workers stepped away and let him fall on his back end. Blood began to spew from his nose, and as he cupped his hand over the wounded area, fire formed in his brown eyes. An older man with crisp, grey hair and wrinkled skin helped the boss up, but I put my hand up and backed away before he could lunge at me.

"There's nothing you can do about it!" I shouted as I backed backward toward the door. "I fucking quit!"

~~~

I couldn't risk leaving my mother alone while I worked, so it only seemed best to quit. She was given two weeks leave from her job to pick up the pieces. As unstable as she was, she had a funeral to plan.

Aunt Heather, my mom's sister, took the funeral matters into her own hands. She arrived at JFK Airport from Seattle on the morning of November 5, and she wrapped me in a warm embrace immediately upon entering the apartment.

"Holland!" She exclaimed, sucking the life out of me with her embrace as my arms were limp at my sides. "Good grief, look how tall you've gotten!"

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit as I stepped away from her. "Hey, Aunt Heather."

She held my hand in her frail one and flipped wavy, shoulder-length brown hair back, hazel eyes twinkling. She was short and stout, significantly craning her neck up to look at me. She adjusted her light pink blouse and pulled me into the kitchen. Her grip was strong, almost too strong for me. She was a naturally strong woman, one who gave birth to four children older than me. My two male cousins were twenty-four and twenty-two, and the twin girls were just a year above me at twenty.