Vacant by Dukey Ker

Author:Dukey, Ker [Dukey, Ker]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2015-03-29T23:00:00+00:00

IT’S BEEN FIVE DAYS AND I haven’t heard a thing from Hannah or Tom. My dad called asking me what happened at the pool and if I’m okay. I have no idea how he knows about it but I have learned to not ask questions and just accept he knows all. I assured him it was nothing and that Hannah is fine and was grateful for my help, which appeared to sate him and Mom. The truth is, I could tell them anything and they would take my word for it because they think I’m fragile after everything we went through. They didn’t understand how easily I took the news about Ryan’s death, or the fact I was nearly murdered because of him. They talked about therapy, which was laughable after a “psycho” therapist was the cause of all the drama. Mom really laid the guilt on when she told me how Ryan killed her parents but I didn’t know them and although I feel empathy for her, I still can’t feel disdain for Ryan like she wants me to. He’s very sick, yes. He has dark urges and acts upon them but just because he acts out his thoughts doesn’t make me not love him or feel an ache inside at how lonely and difficult the world must be to him. He didn’t ask to be this way. He didn’t start out with a choice, he was born this way. I know I sound soulless. I’m not condoning the lives he took, I’m just not ready to hang him for being created differently to the rest of the world. I keep most of my thoughts to myself when it comes to Mom. A nod and fake smile is my go-to response when listening to her talk.

Do you ever feel the pressure before a storm hits? The muggy air and tension simmering in the atmosphere almost electrically charged just waiting to crackle? That’s how I felt today when I woke up. I’d been for my morning run and ran straight into Randal, literally, almost knocking myself clean out. He felt like crap and apologized profusely but it was my fault. I’ve been lost in my mind with Ryan talking to me. I’m going to have a nasty bruise and more than likely a black eye; fabulous. Randal dropped his phone, smashing the screen. He groaned, complaining he needed to call someone important about a piece of art work so I loaned him my cell and waited to get it back outside the art studio after an afternoon of painting. I recreated that night at the pool in blurry watercolors; it was the first time I’d painted something other than Ryan’s image. It was risky and dark to get so much pleasure from dabbing and stroking the red from the palette on to the canvas to indicate the blood spilling from Hannah’s head but it was worth it.

I take this piece back to my dorm to display proudly on my wall. Randal was late and the thickening feeling of unease I woke up with made me antsy.

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