Getting Home.

It was late when you got home, and full dark. The house was completely still and you moved through it feeling like several kinds of battered shit. Your first port of call was the shower, the hot water a godsend on your aching body and beleaguered mind. Like a broken down robot you washed yourself, dried off, and then dressed into PJs. Your old clothes went into the wash, where hopefully the stink of smoke and gasoline would be smothered. Eventually you made your way to the kitchen and drank deeply from a glass of water. It frightened you to think about the nightmares that would come, the look on the face of that girl you failed to save.

“What are you doing up?”

You startled at the sound of your mom’s voice. She looked half-asleep, dressed only in a robe, but there was deep concern in her eyes as she looked at you. “Are you ok, Mikey? You’re looking very pale.”

“Fine, Mom,” you replied. “Just a little trouble staying asleep.”

She came over and pulled you into an embrace, kissing your head several times. A thousand childhood memories came back to you, and with all the pain and anxiety you had felt over the last few weeks it made you want to cry in her arms as you had done when you were little. You managed to restrain yourself, but it was a near thing.

“Mom,” you asked, half muffled, “am I good person?”

She looked at you with confusion. “Of course you are, sweetie. You’re the thing I’m most proud of in the whole world,” her eyes searched your face, “what’s brought this on?”

“I just…sometimes I feel like when life comes at me, I take the easy way out, Y’know?” A sigh escaped your lips. “It’s like I have no impulse control. I go for the path that makes me feel good, or that’ll be less challenging,” you shook your head, “I dunno what I’m saying, Mom. I just feel like I’m selfish.”

Her hands cupped your face, warm and smooth. Her brown eyes locked onto you and shone with love. “Michael, you’re not selfish. You’re nineteen. Sometimes you’re going to act without thinking, that comes with youth. But trust me when I say this, you’re a good kid. You’ve never hurt anyone, and you’ve never wanted to hurt anyone. That’s why I love you, and that’s why I’ll always love you.”

In that moment you very nearly thought about confessing everything to her, the whole damned thing, but the thought was fleeting. Your life had become dark and frightening, it would be better if your mom was shielded from it.

She wrapped you in another hug, then sent you off to bed with another loving affirmation. When you lay in bed, your mind hardened. Things in town with the cult, the demons they worshiped, it would have to end sooner rather than later. For the sake of the girl you failed to save, and for the sake of your mom.

Starting tomorrow, you told yourself, I’ll be coming for Chapman…