Description
There is a soft rap on the door, like the person on the other side isn’t sure if they wanted to be there. It sounds approximately at 2:32 in the morning. I know that because I had done nothing but stare at the digital clock above the stove top, my fingers fiddling and tapping against the warm ceramic mug in my hands. My legs were folded underneath me on the rickety wooden chair, and they crack and protest as I untangle myself and rise from the chair I creep towards the door. I hop over the plank of wood next to the couch that always creaks and land on the balls of my feet. I don’t know if anyone else was up, but I don’t want them to come storming down the stairs and bark at me to go to sleep. They are worried enough as it is. The knocking is reduced to a light, persistent tap of long and short beats. Like they were playing a song. Like they were playing the piano. I switch the lock and carefully lug the door open, but I already know who is on the other side. “Seth,” I breathe, leaning against the door. The night wind rushes towards me and trickles into the house. Seth is wearing nothing but a flimsy t-shirt and black jeans. “What are you doing out there? It’s cold” He sways and blinks rapidly. He looks different from the last time I had seen him, more ragged. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat and his face is all shadowed planes. His eyes are bloodshot and a bright green. In the faint porch light, he looks like a scared animal, frozen in the spotlight. “Valerie,” he chokes out. His voice is scratchy and low, like he had a cough. He sounds even worse than he looks. “I think I killed somebody.”