A Chance to Heal

Unexpected Guest

Woke up bleeding? Woke up bleeding? There had to be some logical explanation for it. Like he'd harmed himself in his sleep. Or, or, or...she looked at his face. Then at his arms for a moment. Wondering if she should ask to see the injuries or not. A part of her was tempted to make him. Just to see what the hell they were dealing with. And if it looked self inflicted or not. Her hands tightened slightly as she glanced back up at his face. Quentin hadn't seemed to notice her gaze. He looked as if he were deep in thought. His mouth was set in a slight frown. For a moment, he said nothing. There was only the T.V making noise.

It was a long tense before he pushed up his sleeves. Four scratch marks visible on on his right forearm. Not made by his fingernails at all. In a soft voice, he continued,"I didn't know what to make of it...the dream, the wound, your Dad..."

"At first, I didn't recognize him. His face was so burned...",he trailed off. That made no sense to her. Why would he burned? Hadn't he been put in prison? Her Mother told her that he was arrested after they fled. And that he died in prison. Something about another inmate stabbing him to death. Loretta told her, told her...she turned her head to look at her Mother. Her eyebrows raised as she caught her expression. Loretta had set her drink on the coffee table. Teeth digging deep into her bottom lip. The fear on her face was easy to read. Kathryn asked,"Why would he be burned? Didn't he die in prison?"

Immediately she felt like a complete dipstick. Why the Hell was she going with this bullshit? None of this was making-her thoughts were interrupted as Quentin answered,"No, he never made it to prison."

Her blood ran cold at this answer. Never made it to prison? Then what the Hell happened to him? If he never made it to...she turned to Quentin as she asked,"Then what happened to him?"

"S-some parents of our old school found out what he did to us.",Quentin explained. Which was obvious. But she couldn't understand who told him about that. There was no possible way that could be true. But when she turned to her Mother, her stomach dropped. The look on her face confirmed her worst fears. This was...this couldn't have...why? Why had her Mother lied to her like this? How could she have lied for so long? It didn't make sense to Kathryn. What else had been a lie? Like how they 'escaped'her Father? Just...just...she put her drink on the coffee table. Then pressed her palms over her closed eyes. She gave a deep breath to steady herself. Kathryn asked,"What did they do to him, Quen?"

"My Dad...my Dad said that they cornered him in an old shed.",Quentin stated. His voice sounded shaky and nervous. Like he were scared to go on. Though she couldn't blame him for that. This wasn't exactly easy to speak about. He took a deep breath as he continued,"They locked him in, then they set it on fire."

Taking her hands off her face, she set them on her lap. Looking at Quentin with wide eyes. Noting how much paler he had gotten. Surprised he could even get any paler than that. In a soft voice, he stated,"Once they were sure he would die, they fled. Someone had called the cops on them. He didn't know what happened after that."

With that, she turned to her Mother. Loretta didn't look like she was completely there. It was as if she were on another planet. Her hands gripped her drink so hard it squished in the middle. Dribbling the drink along with the whip cream along her hands onto the floor. Kathryn gently nudged her Mother's shoulder. Trying to break her free from her spacing out. Her Mother seemed to snap out of it. Enough to get up off the couch and mutter something about cleaning up the mess. Then hurried into the kitchen before Kathryn could ask her anything. Her eyebrows raised as she glanced over at Quentin. Then at her Mother's retreating form in utter confusion. She quickly got off the couch then hurried after her. Watching her dump her drink into the trash. Noticing that she was a bit twitchy as she washed her hands. Looking as if she was trying her hardest to not cry. But was failing miserably.