My mind went blank. How could his father be out of jail already? Before I knew it I was out of bed and dressed, ready to sprint to his house. I exchanged my normal jeans for a pair of leggings and the closest shirt I could find. I had yet to turn on the light, so I stumbled around in the dark. My heart was racing a million miles a minute, a cold chill went through my spine. A pit in my stomach formed, rapidly growing and consuming my whole body. But I didn't have time to worry about that. I grabbed my bag (which I hoped had my books and laptop in it), clenching my phone tighter so I wouldn't forget it. I dashed out my door, with a quick greeting to my parents who were left dazed and confused at the kitchen table, unsure what had taken place and where I'd be going.
As soon as I exited my front gate I sprinted down the uneven cement footpath toward Josh's house. The sun had started rising, just barely on my back and I ran faster. Although I could tell that the cool morning air filling my lungs, I didn't think I could breathe. Every breath felt shallow, my chest becoming heavier with every step. My hands were shaking, but I couldn't stop running. I soon arrived at Josh's house and knocked.
I could hear the singular knock echo throughout the house and immediately felt guilty. Grandma Olivia was probably still sleeping and I arrived like I was part of the circus. I should have just texted him, ugh. Josh came to the door almost immediately, and gestured for me to come in. I dropped my bag just next to the door, and breathed heavily. He didn't say anything, just lazily walked to his room, back hunched, hands in pockets, head looking at the ground. I followed him through, the ground creaking beneath us both in the silence.
He sat on his bed, the whole thing sinking low. As he stared at the wall, frozen, still processing the news, I stood and stared at him. His back was still hunched, but he had made his hands into fists, pushing at his side against the bed. His hair was messy now, his red hoodie over his head. He was angry. And then I saw his eyes. Those beautifully bright, energetic ocean eyes were now swirling. Like a storm in the middle of the ocean. This was the first time his eyes had changed colors, and not because of the lighting. This was the first time I could see the hatred in them, in him, just boiling inside.
I sat next to him, the bed sank a little further. I looked up to him, trying to figure out what his thoughts were. I couldn't. Then I realised I was still puffing, sweat beading down my face from my forehead. I moved a little to the side, not wanting to sweat on him and make his day trivially worse. He looked at me, from the corner of his eyes, for a split second, then looked back to that spot on the wall. Not thinking, I edged back closer. I looked at the spot on the wall his eyes were focused on. Yesterday, it had been fine, but today, there was a hole. I looked back at Josh, at his hands. His left hand was bleeding.
My heart didn't slow at all, my chills still with me, the pit in my stomach still emptying me from the inside. I was terrified. Not of Josh, but of how he was dealing with it, it couldn't have been healthy for him. I stood up rapidly, taking a load off the bed. I turned out to face the door and left, working my way through the house, trying to slow my heart, breathing slower, but my insides were trembling. I went to the kitchen, grabbing a towel, the closest one there was. I moved to the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, wrapping it in the towel. With a light jog I headed back toward Josh.
I kneeled down in front of him and gently grabbed his hand and placed the ice pack on it. He winced, lip slightly twitching to the right, eyes squinting. I heard a soft consistent sound, like a teetering. Suddenly, I realised that my teeth were chattering. He stood up, recognizing this, and moved to his cupboard, grabbed a hoodie and handed it to me and sat back down, each movement calculated and stiff. I immediately put it on and felt a wave of warmth shoot down the back of my spine. But my insides still felt empty, I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, his father who is responsible for his mother's death was getting out. I would never understand what that felt like, so I felt pretty useless. I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing as hard as I could, not knowing what else I could do.
