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"Skin" Part 7
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Posted by Logan the Lobotomizer on: 10:51 AM, 10/12/18
My eyes opened, and I stared at the white ceiling for what felt like an eternity, tendrils of smoke seeped through the cracks of my door, the sweet smell of buttermilk landed on my taste buds. Pancakes weren't enough to get me out of bed.

“Tommy.” Mom called.

I was uncertain about therapy, but it was either this or boot camp. I would have to lie about what was bothering me. If I told the therapist about the ghosts, I’d be locked into a small white room.

“Tommy, time for breakfast.” She called again.

After a few seconds, my stomach started to growl, and I couldn’t ignore the hunger pains so, I headed downstairs. Dad, Mom, and Stacey were sitting at the kitchen table eating. A platter of pancakes sat in the middle of the table along with a bottle of syrup, a gallon of milk, and a gallon of orange juice. I sat down and served myself.

Mom poured herself a glass of orange juice. “Tommy, your father and I have noticed that you have been having issues."

My heart began to work overtime I felt weak, and I felt a knot twisting in my stomach. My appetite was gone, and I wanted to go back to bed for ten years. I placed the syrup down and let my head drop.

“You’re not in trouble son; we’re just concerned is all. " Dad said.

I poked at my breakfast with my fork no longer hungry. I knew he was still pretending to care about me, he was only happy the cops weren't called last night. “I know.”

Mom finished her juice. “You have an appointment with Mr. Warner at nine.”

I looked at the clock hanging on the wall; the meeting was in an hour. “Okay.”

As I finished my breakfast, I noticed a terrible smell. It smelt like someone had just finished a five-hour workout and didn’t bother to shower. I scrunched up my face. “What’s that smell?”

Mom sniffed the air then covered her nose.“That’s you, Tom.”

“Ewww.” Stacey added pinching her nose closed.

Dad slowly got up from the table. “You should shower before you leave son.”

After breakfast, I jumped in the shower. Time must have escaped me because when I came downstairs after the shower, Mom was waiting by the door jacket on and keys in her hand.

Mom opened the door to leave. “Alright, we’ll be back soon.” We got into the car and headed off.

"You can’t tell Warner what happened last night." Mom said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Your father will  go to jail."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Doesn’t seem to be my problem."

Mom sucked her lip in. "He’s just trying to take care of you?"

I whipped my head in her direction. "He tried to kill me last night."

Mom sighed. "He didn't try and kill you, Tommy."

I bit my lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. "Dad, doesn't care about us. He proved it last night, he never does anything for anyone unless it benefits him or makes him look good. It's always on you or I to take care of Stacey. You're only with him because you're afraid of being alone."

Tears fell from Mom's face. "You need to be the man your father isn't willing to be. I understand that he's hard to deal with, but he's your father and he cares about you. He might not show it in the way that he should, but he cares about you."

Before I knew it, we had arrived at Mr. Warner's office. On the way in we passed by a man smoking a cigarette. A cloud of gray smoke engulfed us. We both coughed violently. Mom scowled at the guy. “Second-hand kills, man.”

When we walked into the building, Mr. Warner was waiting for us outside his office. He wore a black button down shirt with black jeans to match. Red lips parted into a smile exposing white rows of ivory, a neatly trimmed mustache lined his face. For someone who looked like they should have been in their late fifties or sixties, he seemed to be in good shape. He extended his hand outward for me to shake it. “How are you, Tommy?”

I was nervous I didn't want to make eye contact at first. “Good.”

He motioned for me to follow him. “Let’s head into my office.”

I followed him to his room.The room was plain: Eggshell white walls, and a framed degree hung on the wall behind him.

He pointed to a chair sitting across from his desk. “Tommy have -” His face turned black as oil, patches of his face were red as a tomato, the room smelled like a ash tray. That horrible sickening flavor of smoldering flesh filled my mouth and ravaged my taste buds.

“Skinnnnn.” He hissed.

I backed away until my back was against the wall. “No, no, no, no."

He stood up from behind his desk and walked after me. "Skinnnn."

After fumbling with the handle for a second, I looked back the thing that was following me. All burnt and charred, It reached its hand out to me trying to grab me, I tore the door open and ran for the exit screaming.

Mom rushed after me. “Tommy, what’s wrong?”

I curled up into a ball in the corner of the lobby shaking and crying. “He’s trying to take my skin!”

The smelled ebbed, a hand rested on my shoulder, I turned to see Mr. Warner instead of a monster. “It’s okay, Tommy no one’s gonna hurt you here. I’m going to help you.”

All fear left my body. “I’m ok, I think.”

He offered me his hand. “Why don’t we go back to my office and talk for a bit.”

I grabbed it and pulled myself up. “Okay.”

He pushed a bowl of hard candy at me. “What happened to your lip?"

I rubbed where my lip was split. "I fell off my skate board. I was being stupid, trying to do tricks I saw on TV without ever doing them before."

"Gotta be more careful. So, do you mind telling me what upset you so much?"

I popped a candy into my mouth. "It's the smell of smoke that makes me crazy, every time I smell smoke I'm brought back to that night my grandfather died. My Grandpa’s friend Nick killed him. That night I smelt the awful smell of cigarette smoke, when I woke up Nick was standing over my bed with a knife. Anytime, I think about that night I can smell that exact smoke, I can taste it. I feel so; guilty,I feel like I should have died. If I had done something else other than lay there, maybe Grandpa would still be alive."

"And it's only cigarette smoke that makes you feel this way?" Warner asked.

"All smoke is starting to smell the same... also, clanging triggers me too, like the clanging of a tricycle bell."

Warner took a tissue and blew his nose. " I see. You shouldn't feel guilty, It’s not your fault Tommy. You’re only a kid what could have down? If you got up and tried to fight, maybe you would have gotten killed too."

My lips quivered, and mucus rolled down my face. Mr. Warner handed me a tissue. Before I knew it, time was up. On the way to the car, a ringing filled the air. Mom reached into her bang and pulled her Nokia out. "Hey, Mom. What?.. There's no girl on a tricycle clanging a bell.”

My stomach turned to mush, and my legs felt like Jell-O.  "W-what's going on?"

She put the phone back in her bag. “We’re gonna stop by Grandma’s real quick before we go home.”

My heart began to race as I got into the car, I sunk into my seat and tried to calm down, mom pushed the key into the ignition and turned it; the car came to life. We were on the way to Grandma’s house.

« Last Edit: 09:46 PM, 04/29/19 by Logan96 »

Posted by R_Solomon on: 08:43 AM, 10/13/18
Is there a reason almost every sentence is it's own paragraph?

Posted by Logan the Lobotomizer on: 12:43 PM, 10/13/18


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