CHAPTER 3 - Written In Gold

I couldn't stop thinking about what happened during training yesterday. I walk into McDonald's absentminded for a snack. I walk over to the counter, "Is anyone here?" I stretch my neck, trying to look over the counter.

"What can I get you?" a girl asked, coming over while tying her apron. I lean back and wait for her to come over. She looks at me. "Yeah?"

"I'll have a supreme surprise," I order, bringing out my wallet to pay.

"Supreme surprise coming right up," she says before going away. I saw the ball coming from Ben's back, rising from the grass, and hitting him straight in the head. What is this? A freaking invasion?

"Excuse me," the girl calls, snapping me out of my trance and back to reality. She dropped my order on the counter.

I shake my head and close my eyes, realizing what had happened. "Sorry," I apologize while opening my eyes to look at her before grabbing my order. "Thanks again..." my gaze drops to the name embroidered on her shirt, "Alexis."

"Come again," she called after me as I walked through the doors. I open what I ordered and pull out a small toy. I stop walking and stare at it, remembering my Dad. I clench it in my fist before placing it in my pocket. I entered the house after a few minutes from McDonald's. I remove my jacket and hang it on the coat rack beside the door. "Mom! I'm home!" I shout, entering further.

"In the living room, hon!" she calls back as I walk in. George is sitting on the dining table with a pile of food in front of him while Mom is ironing our clothes in a corner.

I walk over to her, ignoring the presence of George. I give her a peck on the cheek. "How was school?" she asks, folding a T-shirt and placing it in a blue basket.

"Stressful," I reply, placing my bag at the foot of the stairs.

"You always say that." she looks at me with a smile, knowing me too well.

"And I always say you shouldn't have wasted the money. I told you countless times that I didn't need it, and I still don't," I say all in one breath, walking back to her.

"He has a point," George comments from across the room, his mouth full of food. We turned back as Mom continued ironing, and I went to the coffee table, looking at all the mail that came that day.

My eyes fell on a black envelope, and I picked it up. It only had something on it, written in gold, in capital letters—my name.

I rip it open and pull the letter out. It was straightforward to read because it was short.

"Come outside," I read silently.

I strolled to the window and looked out to the front yard, but no one was in sight. I look at the letter and envelope again, looking for anything that will tell me maybe all of this was just a stupid prank. But I saw nothing suspicious.

I look back outside and walk towards my jacket. "I have to go somewhere. I'll be back really quick", I inform my mom.

"Be back in time for dinner," she tells me.

"Okay," I kiss her again and head towards the door.

"Get me a drink on your way out," George orders.

"No," I say plainly, checking if I forgot anything.

"What did you just say?" he asks, surprised by my comment.

"Go get it yourself; I'm supposed to be your stepson," I pause. "Even if I don't want you here," I mutter.

He pushes back his seat and stands up sharply. "Do you think I want to be here?!" he shouts. Mom had stopped what she was doing and stood there watching us. "I never wanted to be here, I just need the freaking money, and maybe I liked your mom a little when we were dating, but now I don't feel a thing, and that's why you are not my stepson because you are different, you are stupid. Maybe your dad didn't die. Maybe he just ran away to escape all of this, mostly you," he growls everything out.

My anger rises. I close my eyes, trying to push it all away. "Don't talk about my dad like that," I warned in a growl. His mug on the dining table falls to the floor, scattering to pieces, but none of us seem to care.

"George, stop this. Stop annoying him; he has a bad temper", my mom steps closer to us. I did have a bad temper, and I learned how to control it, but my dad's topic is always hard to control, especially when pricks like George say shit about him.

He turns to face her, "Now don't get yourself into something you won't be able to get out from. This is between us." he turns back to me smiling, "Dad to son."

"I am not your son." This guy was seriously getting on my nerve, and anytime now, I'm going to cut his fucking head off.

"Oh, sorry, forgot. He's dead", he says sarcastically

"Shut up", I say, closing my eyes.

"Or maybe I was right all along. He did run away".

"Shut up." I tried to block his voice out, but he sounded like a broken record, repeatedly saying the same thing.

"You are pathetic. He didn't want you. He didn't want any of you, so he left".

I shake my head, trying to banish any thoughts his words brought up, trying not to think further into what he said. He didn't leave us, Cedric; he died in a plane crash. I reassure myself.

"Didn't --"

"Shut the fuck up!" I shouted with my eyes closed. I heard a scream from my mom, and I opened my eyes.

"What did you do, Cedric?" she asks with teary eyes, staring at where George stood.

I turned to look at him, and my eyes widened in shock. A knife in George's head pinned him firmly to the wall. When I said I wanted him headless, I never meant it, though his head is still on his neck.

Blood dripped from his forehead where the knife was, with his eyes bulging out from his sockets in horror. I always dream of him dead, but not me killing him.

He was dead.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat that wouldn't go. I blink, trying to convince myself that it was all a dream. But I know it wasn't.

I snatched my jacket in my hand before going to the door.

"Cedric! Where are you going?" I continued walking, ignoring my mom's questions. "Come back, Cedric!".

I blocked out the voice and ran.