Chapter 6: Amson, 17, "Infernal Shell"

My vision slowly returned, and I sat there, staring at the ceiling and waiting to catch up with myself. I focused on my breathing; it felt new, all of the sudden. It was as if I hadn't allowed myself to breathe for years, and as the sensation returned, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment, though I had done nothing worth such self-praise.

I felt the beating of my heart against my chest, but no sound came, only a ringing piercing my ears as I brought myself to the world of the living. I pushed myself up with the help of the bed's surface, and as I stared into the black of my large, flat-screen TV, it was refreshing, looking into the blurred outline of my own form.

One last deep breath... In then out, and my hearing slowly returned.

My eyes instinctually jumped to the side, my head unmoving, and I stared into the eyes of a two-inch-long cockroach, scurrying along the surface of the closet door. I slowly reached for the shoes at the foot of my bed, and without a single twitch on my face, hummed the shoe dead at the roach, slamming against the door.

It got away.

///

I made my way to the bathroom, and there, I washed every inch of my body. The feeling of water against my skin was oddly euphoric, and I found it strange how much I enjoyed it. I think I spent a bit too much time in there. When I got out, I instantly grabbed my towel, hung it along my waist, and stood in front of the mirror.

My arms holding me upright, I felt an estranged feeling with the man in its reflection. Every time I looked at him, something didn't settle with me; it didn't feel right. He had gray hair, a face like from a magazine cover, and his body was chiseled, an almost inhuman look. His eyes where a pale white, and as I looked into them, I saw no soul behind them, like a mirror in and of itself.

Though I couldn't bring myself to call him ugly, I also couldn't say he was handsome either.

That's the kind of body I was born with, a stranger even to myself. If there was anything certain about it, it was that I was nothing, yet I was selfish, ignorant, and a liar. That's the guy that was in the mirror... that was me. There's nothing that could be done about that fact, and although I hated looking at it, I forced myself to take a closer look this time, just to see if he'd crack.

Just to see if he'd detach himself from my soul.

I yanked my eyes away from the mirror in desperation, taking harrowing breaths that forced my abdomen to compress and contract. I forcefully gripped my toothbrush and began to wash away all of the impurities that lie in the mirror.

///

As I descended the stairs, Mom and Dad lounged around the living room. Dad, as he usually did, made his home in front of the TV, the sound of political news filling the entire room as Mom sat at the kitchen counter, a coffee in hand. Mom was the only one to notice my presence, a smile forming on her face as she saw me.

Seeing her eyes brighten always made me feel at ease. Though we looked a lot different from one another, we were probably a lot more alike in personality, laid-back and quiet yet sarcastic all the same. Still, her black hair and eyes made us look like night and day, though she looked very young for her age. As did my father.

As I passed her, subtly waving in her direction, Dad spoke without facing me, barely heard over the sound of the television. He and I shared the same eyes, white without a single hint of coloration around the pupil. Since his hair became white from old age, I can't say what color it was before.

"Where're you going?" He asked.

I turned around as I gripped the doorknob.

"Heading to school..." I said, confused.

He chuckled.

"It's Saturday, Am." He coughed. "Hold your horses, bud."

Mom carefully interjected, compassion leading her words.

"Is something wrong, Amson?" She said with a nearly hypnotizing voice. "You're usually so good with remembering your calendars."

"I-I'm fine..." I said, holding my hand to my head. "Th-The week just went by so fast. I still want to go out, anyway, to get some fresh air. I'll go on the bike."

"If you're going by bike, pass me the keys." He said, and I tossed them over. "Your mother and I are going out of town for the week on Monday."

My eyes raised.

'What is this, fate?' I asked myself.

With that, I wouldn't have to worry about them if I threw a party. What, exactly, did Baun do?

"Oh, really?" I asked. "Where to?"

Mom sounded excited as she explained, forcing a smile onto my face.

"We were invited to Atlanta for a retreat disguised as a meeting with our CEO. We're looking to make an impression." She winked.

"Yep." Dad seconded. "If we're good, we could be looking at an even further promotion. Then, we'll be out of this heap."

"It's not a heap." Mom challenged, inciting their rambling back and forth.

My Mom and Dad both work at an investment company, my father as a manager, and my mother as a regular coordinator at the local building. I believe that's also how they met, fifty-on years of each other wherever they went. Using their company bus passes, they ride to work together, spend work together, and ride back together.

The trip, though it was news to me, was fine in my book since they'd been out of town for much longer. The question, however, was how I was going to get to school this time around. Butcher Cross is on the opposite side of the city, inside car distance but outside biking distance. Though I could ask my friends to bring me, I don't feel too keen on freeloading.

"How am I gonna get to school?" I asked, interrupting their argument. "I can't use the bus like you two."

"Your sister's coming over for the week." Dad replied. "Her university doesn't reopen classes until next week, so she'll be able to bring you."

I tried to force a smile.

"Yay..." I frowned.

My sister being home, especially when it meant a party, spelled trouble, unbelievable trouble. Take my word for it when I say it's not fun being around her. If I can make it through this week, I'll be luckier than I ever have been.

"I'm heading out." I said as I twisted the knob. "I might be back late."

I shut the door, both Mom and Dad waving goodbye.

CREATORS' THOUGHTS
goodeygoody

There was an artistic reason why I didn’t describe Amson’s appearance until now, but that’s up to you to interpret. I hope you enjoyed the small taste of how deep and introspective I’d like for this novel to be, as well as entertaining. Don’t miss the small details I’ve made in terms of either action or description, as it will make the adventure much more worthwhile.

I hope you enjoyed your reading, and thank you.

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