As Skye felt her heart sink at the thought of
not having her children, Cyrus sat on the stairs listening. His hands were in
tight fists as he listened to the murmurs coming from the kitchen and even
though they spoke softly he heard every word. His gaze was fixed on the front
door but his ears tuned to what was going on in the other room. He didn’t
understand how any of it was possible but knew that it was impossible for him
to believe that he had heard Maury right about his mother having no
reproductive organs. It didn’t take a genius to put that together, yet his
curiosity was getting the better of him and all he wanted was to know more.
He fought every urge to storm back in and tell
them all that he had a right to be there as the man of the house or to leave
and never come back but there was a that part of him that wanted to know more…a
lot more and that part wouldn’t let him do it. He took a silent breath, scared
to be noticed somehow and loosened his fists trying to relax even though he
couldn’t wrap his brain around everything turning in his head. For the first
time in what seemed like forever, he wished his father was there. One of his
big questions was that if those men were protecting his mom then what were they?
As if reading his thoughts he felt a small hand
on his shoulder and turned to see Kyra sitting behind him on the step, the look
in her eyes seemed to be wishing for the very same answers that he wanted. The
pain in her eyes confirmed that she wished their father was there too.
Cyrus gently patted her hand and gave her an
awkward smile to which she smiled back at him. To see her that way warmed him. “What
do we do?” he said softly to her. All she did was shrug and then from behind
him wrapped her arms around her big brothers neck.
Cyrus stood up then; made sure he had a good
grip on Kyra and piggybacked his sister back up the stairs to her room. While
taking 2 steps at a time he made a mental note that the hallway seemed darker
than usual as he walked towards Kyra’s door. Like the lights had dimmed or a
bulb had blown out in the hallway fixture. When he passed Savannah’s door he
saw her playing with her dolls humming softly as she did when she was creating
her make-believe worlds in pinks and blues with unicorns an dragons.
With his hands holding Kyra close he leaned
forward, pretended to charge like a bull using his head to push open her
bedroom door. Running to the bed he spun around and tossed her down onto the
soft mattress. At the same time he saw that her sketchbook was open on the
desk. “What are you drawing now
Shortstop?” He asked as he moved towards it to look Kyra bolted off of the bed
in a heartbeat and raced her brother to the desk. She picked up the sketchbook
and in one smooth motion, threw it in the open drawer and slammed it shut with
a speed Cyrus admired and yet found odd. The pictures on her walls fluttered
with the force of the breeze she created.
Cyrus told himself that everything Kyra did
these days was odd though and thus normal for her.
He stopped abruptly raised his hands in the air
and said, “OK, OK I’ll leave it alone!” Kyra stood firm holding the drawer shut
behind her with a look on her face that said only ‘I’m Sorry’ but Cyrus didn’t
even notice as he turned and retreated from the room to return to his post for
some more eavesdropping on the conversation in the kitchen.
Once he closed the door and his footsteps faded
away. Kyra stepped away from the desk and went over to curl up on her bed. No
sooner than she did, the drawer she had put her sketchbook in slid open slowly
on its own. From inside of it the book appeared and tumbled end over end out
onto the floor where it sat vibrating slightly and then stopped moving
altogether.
Inside Kyra was terrified enough to scream but
couldn’t find the voice for it. She ran the rest of the way across the room and
jumped on her bed, pulled her knees up to her chin and remained there as she
watched the book turn over and over until it reached the bottom of the bed and
continue the movements until it sat on the end of the bed.
The
book then opened itself, shuffled pages rapidly until it came to a fresh blank
page and she felt the shadows circling around her; she felt the anxiousness in
the wake of their movements urging her to pick up her pencil. Telling her a
story but a story she didn’t want to know… without even realizing it the book
was in her lap and a pencil in her hand.
She
knew what it wanted…
She
knew she had to do it…
Draw…
No comments:
Post a Comment