The Cost of Words (pt 5)

Author's Note:

This chapter is part of a rough draft of my novel The Cost of Words. I'm sharing it for feedback while I write and revise, with the intention of traditionally or independently publishing the final version. Comments and suggestions are welcome.

P.S. Characters, group names, and the title might be changed in the final published version.

Chapter 5

Macy

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. My head is so filled with thoughts I don’t focus on any of my classes, even psychology, which is my favorite class. I just can’t believe I didn’t stand up for Tom when I had a chance, he deserves better, a better friend.

As I head home I can’t help but notice the abundance of beggars on the street, even more than usual. I wonder what's happening, are punishments getting stricter or what? No big shock, but I spot Bryan, fresh out of school begging for words. I feel bad and debate on giving him some of my words, but I’d much rather sacrifice my precious lexicon for Tom, not some stranger I feel bad for. I know better than that.

I get home and go up to my room to take a shower, feeling gross after the events of today. I think any sane person would though, though maybe I’m the insane one. No one else seemed to bat an eye today or yesterday at the horrific events happening right in front of us. Maybe I’m overthinking this, if everyone else felt what was happening was fine then it must be fine… right?

I let the warm water rush over me as I think about this, feeling the warmth bring me back to life. Showers have always been a major comfort to me, when I’m stressed or sad I take one and instantly feel better. Something about getting clean and standing in a stream of warm water is just so relaxing. I finish up my shower and get ready to go downstairs and greet my mom, who works from home.

Shockingly, I hear the door slam open and figure dad must be home already, ‘Hey dad!” I yell as I bound down the stairs.

“Hey honey,” he replies back, sounding just as eager to see me as I am him.

I get to the bottom of the stairs and turn the corner to face the front door before being confronted by the most horrifying scene ever. My own father is dripping with blood, the warm liquid pooling below him. I can smell the faint scent of iron in the air, that I don't know how I didn’t recognize as I was coming down the stairs; it’s such a distinct smell. This image is immediately burnt into my brain, and I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about it for years to come.

“DAD WHY THE HELL ARE YOU COVERED IN BLOOD” I scream, terror filling my voice, despite my efforts to try and remain calm and reasonable.

“It’s ok honey, it's not my blood” he replies, totally relaxed. How can he be so serene when he’s covered in someone else's blood? That means someone had to have died, or at least been seriously injured.

“SOMEONE ELSE'S BLOOD…? WHAT HAPPENED DAD?”

“You know my work gets… messy… sometimes, it’s just how the world is.”

“MESSY?! Someone being hurt is not what I thought that meant”

My thoughts are all scrambled up, what does he mean, messy? What does that even mean? Why would his work require hurting, and possibly killing, someone. That's just ridiculous. I don’t believe him one bit and I'm wondering if maybe the dad I know and love isn’t the real him. Maybe he’s secretly like a serial killer or something. Who knows since he’s being so cryptic right now.

“Dad, you better give me some answers, NOW.”

“All I can say is that I… respect the people I work with and what we do. It’s the way the world has to be and what we have to do to keep the peace.”

“That’s not a true answer, dad, give me some real ones”

“I AM giving you real answers you just won’t listen to me” he roars at me, anger clearly starting to fill his head.

“FINE. I see you aren't going to give me any answers, just go get washed up and clean the front area please, it stinks now because of you.” I glare at him, seeing red as I walk away, not knowing what else there is to be done, it's not like he’s going to tell me anything more.