NOTE TO READERS: Hey, sorry about waiting so long to update again. This
week has been crazy; my sister was over so I spent lots of time with her. I
hope you enjoy this chapter. It may seem a little short, sorry, but I'll
try and update sooner to make up for it. ENJOY!!!
Sam McGuire stopped at a red light, trying to remember if he had tipped the maid at the motel he had been staying at for the past three nights. It hadn't been a fine motel, or even a good one, but it was one he could afford and one that would take him away from the pain of reality. There he didn't have to see them, any of them! He never had to lay eyes on the people who were supposed to be the one's he trusted with his life, but that didn't mean he didn't think of them constantly. His only escape was at the office; there all he concentrated on was work, only work. As the light turned green, Sam wondered why he left motel life. As he sped up, he couldn't recall where he was heading, or why he chose to turn left, not right, at the fork in the road. Glancing at the clock, 1:48am, he wondered if he would ever reach his destination.
Sam turned onto a street full of 6 houses, perfectly adjacent from each other. Stopping at the third, he noted the homey feeling overfilling him and parked in the driveway. On the front stairs, made of cement, leading to the door resided two small hand imprints, belonging to a little boy, no older than four and a girl, no older than seven. The big oak tree on the front lawn seemed perfect for two young children to climb on. Stepping on the stairs, he read the name on the front door, "McGuire."
Entering the house, Sam's eyes first moved towards the living room in the distance, where a little girl had taken her first step, as well as her first fall. As a smile widened, he moved his gaze left, towards the kitchen's open doorway. The kitchen held many memories of nights spent eating dinner as a happy family, with the occasionally bickering between brother and sister. Although, by now, it was past 2am, there was still a light on in the kitchen, but Sam moved along anyway. Last he saw the stairs right in front of him, which led to a world where a family slept peacefully, night after night.
The stairs creaked as Sam headed up towards the bedrooms. After reaching the top, he stopped at the first door on the left and peered in. A young man, only 15 years old, snored slightly. There were posters on the walls of rock bands unknown to Sam and pictures of sport teams and players. A shelf above the bed was full of soccer trophies, pictures of friends, and one picture frame, holding a photo of the young man standing with three other people resembling him, which read "My Family."
The smile on Sam's face widened as he headed towards the door directly across from the one he just left. Peering through the slightly opened door, he saw pink painted walls, empty of posters, pictures, and anything except the loneliness of covering. On a dresser, with an attached mirror, lied make-up cases, jewelry boxes, and hair accessories and in the bed was a young women, no older than 17. Seeing her reminded Sam of happy memories they had shared, like when she spoke her first word, "Daddy."
Suddenly the smile faded, as he realized the situation this young one was in now. Images of men touching her, feeling her, and taking away her innocence enraged him. Thoughts of this child having a child herself plagued Sam, as he began to punch the stair railing angrily.
The sound of pounding against wood woke a nervous Jo from a restless nap in the kitchen. She jumped as she heard it again, causing the cup of coffee still in her hand to spill to the floor. The cup followed as the sound reached her ears again. Now she realized it wasn't in her head, caused by late nights consisting of waiting for a missing husband and drinking a full pot of coffee, that in fact, it was real.
Rushing to the stairs and peering up she saw a shell of a man, resembling her lost husband.
"Sam?" Jo whispered.
Her voice sent a warm sensation through Sam's body, for it was Jo's voice that led Sam's heart to her. The bags under her eyes matched the ones under his. Sitting down on the stairs in defeat, Sam cupped his head in his hands. Jo rushed up the stairs and sat beside him, placing his head on her heart.
As the banging had awoken Jo, it had the same effect on Lizzie, who had arrived home from the hospital just yesterday. Lizzie gulped before opening her door slightly, only after the noise had ceased. Outside her room was her father, finally arriving home, crying as her mother comforted, just as Dave had tried to with Lizzie in the hospital. The difference, though, was that her father didn't push away from the caring arms, he only embraced them.
Lizzie stood against the wall inside the bedroom, nearest to the door and slid down to a sitting position. While hugging her knees, and listening to her father's sobs, tears fell down her already tear wet face. She wondered when life had become so complicated and wished with all her might for a way out, anyway to get away from the pain she caused and the lives she ruined. She cried herself asleep, only thinking of the past, when her father told her she would grow up to be fantastic and the disaster she turned out to be.
ANOTHER NOTE: I'd like to say that I don't know exactly how the McGuire's house is set up. I made up the outside and did the rest from memory. Besides I think my version fits the mood better anyway. So what did you think? I love input. Thanks for reading.
Sam McGuire stopped at a red light, trying to remember if he had tipped the maid at the motel he had been staying at for the past three nights. It hadn't been a fine motel, or even a good one, but it was one he could afford and one that would take him away from the pain of reality. There he didn't have to see them, any of them! He never had to lay eyes on the people who were supposed to be the one's he trusted with his life, but that didn't mean he didn't think of them constantly. His only escape was at the office; there all he concentrated on was work, only work. As the light turned green, Sam wondered why he left motel life. As he sped up, he couldn't recall where he was heading, or why he chose to turn left, not right, at the fork in the road. Glancing at the clock, 1:48am, he wondered if he would ever reach his destination.
Sam turned onto a street full of 6 houses, perfectly adjacent from each other. Stopping at the third, he noted the homey feeling overfilling him and parked in the driveway. On the front stairs, made of cement, leading to the door resided two small hand imprints, belonging to a little boy, no older than four and a girl, no older than seven. The big oak tree on the front lawn seemed perfect for two young children to climb on. Stepping on the stairs, he read the name on the front door, "McGuire."
Entering the house, Sam's eyes first moved towards the living room in the distance, where a little girl had taken her first step, as well as her first fall. As a smile widened, he moved his gaze left, towards the kitchen's open doorway. The kitchen held many memories of nights spent eating dinner as a happy family, with the occasionally bickering between brother and sister. Although, by now, it was past 2am, there was still a light on in the kitchen, but Sam moved along anyway. Last he saw the stairs right in front of him, which led to a world where a family slept peacefully, night after night.
The stairs creaked as Sam headed up towards the bedrooms. After reaching the top, he stopped at the first door on the left and peered in. A young man, only 15 years old, snored slightly. There were posters on the walls of rock bands unknown to Sam and pictures of sport teams and players. A shelf above the bed was full of soccer trophies, pictures of friends, and one picture frame, holding a photo of the young man standing with three other people resembling him, which read "My Family."
The smile on Sam's face widened as he headed towards the door directly across from the one he just left. Peering through the slightly opened door, he saw pink painted walls, empty of posters, pictures, and anything except the loneliness of covering. On a dresser, with an attached mirror, lied make-up cases, jewelry boxes, and hair accessories and in the bed was a young women, no older than 17. Seeing her reminded Sam of happy memories they had shared, like when she spoke her first word, "Daddy."
Suddenly the smile faded, as he realized the situation this young one was in now. Images of men touching her, feeling her, and taking away her innocence enraged him. Thoughts of this child having a child herself plagued Sam, as he began to punch the stair railing angrily.
The sound of pounding against wood woke a nervous Jo from a restless nap in the kitchen. She jumped as she heard it again, causing the cup of coffee still in her hand to spill to the floor. The cup followed as the sound reached her ears again. Now she realized it wasn't in her head, caused by late nights consisting of waiting for a missing husband and drinking a full pot of coffee, that in fact, it was real.
Rushing to the stairs and peering up she saw a shell of a man, resembling her lost husband.
"Sam?" Jo whispered.
Her voice sent a warm sensation through Sam's body, for it was Jo's voice that led Sam's heart to her. The bags under her eyes matched the ones under his. Sitting down on the stairs in defeat, Sam cupped his head in his hands. Jo rushed up the stairs and sat beside him, placing his head on her heart.
As the banging had awoken Jo, it had the same effect on Lizzie, who had arrived home from the hospital just yesterday. Lizzie gulped before opening her door slightly, only after the noise had ceased. Outside her room was her father, finally arriving home, crying as her mother comforted, just as Dave had tried to with Lizzie in the hospital. The difference, though, was that her father didn't push away from the caring arms, he only embraced them.
Lizzie stood against the wall inside the bedroom, nearest to the door and slid down to a sitting position. While hugging her knees, and listening to her father's sobs, tears fell down her already tear wet face. She wondered when life had become so complicated and wished with all her might for a way out, anyway to get away from the pain she caused and the lives she ruined. She cried herself asleep, only thinking of the past, when her father told her she would grow up to be fantastic and the disaster she turned out to be.
ANOTHER NOTE: I'd like to say that I don't know exactly how the McGuire's house is set up. I made up the outside and did the rest from memory. Besides I think my version fits the mood better anyway. So what did you think? I love input. Thanks for reading.
