My parents ceased their activities. My mother, adorned in a pearl necklace and earrings to match stood upright. Upon both hands she word oven mitts and a matching apron. Her teal sundress really did bring out the blue in her eyes. She closed the oven and removed the mitts, revealing perfectly manicured nails.
My father sat his pipe on the end table and closed his book. His hair, just a touch of gray, was immaculate as ever. He wore a plaid shirt and a soft, tan cardigan. He removed his reading glasses to look me in the face.
Almost in unison they asked
“Why Dear?” “What makes you say that, son?”
Before them I stood. Pressed khaki pants, tucked in button down shirt and my matching belt and shoes. I felt both at one with, and detached from the people before me.
“I just…. know,” I tried to sound confident, but at the time, my confidence was lost to pubescence. “Don’t be ridiculous,” My father stood in the light of our perfectly lit kitchen. He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes, “You’re our boy, and we love you.”
I studied the lines of his face seeking no, pleading for a lie, but there was none. “Sit dear,” my mother interjected opening the stove, “Dinner is nearly ready.”
I sat at our polished wooden table and placed my napkin in my lap, an old habit from etiquette school. I felt my eyes moisten.
“Are you sure?” I was able to ask, staring at the blank place on the table where my food would soon be.
My mother placed prepared plates before my father and I. He said a brief grace for the table and began eating the roast and potatoes my mother had so delicately prepared.
“Positive,” he said, savoring his bite and wiping his lip.
My mother sat last with her plate on the other side of the table to my left and took my hand. “You’re our baby,” She said, looking me in the eye and assuring me I was her offspring, “Now, let’s talk about something else! You haven’t said hello to our guest.
My eyes and face were wet and red. I stared across the table. The woman before me was tied to her chair. Ropes ran from her throat to her feet keeping her from any free movement. Across her mouth was tightly wound duct tape and her head had slumped forward.
The only appendage not tied down was her right arm. It was not a kindness extended, but rather unneeded. Her right arm was severed below the shoulder. Blood was still actively pouring from the poor bandaging and soaking her side deep red. Her eyes had rolled back into her head in a loss of consciousness from the extreme pain she had just endured. My parents shared a laugh over it being seasoned so well.
I took all this in again and cried out in a whisper,
What if the reason Mary Drake kidnapped Spencer in the next promo is because Spencer’s twin wants to take Spencer’s place to be around the girls as some sort of recon or to up the game and straight up kill a liar or liars boo and she won’t be careful about it because she wants to frame Spencer as the murderer and there is no waySpencer is talking her way out of killing someone on Camera..She could still go after an insanity plea though
This was so much fun to write! Thank you for the prompt!
“When did you fall in love with him?” wide green eyes and a toothy smile, their daughter looked up at Lance and he melted a little.
“Your dad?” he asked.
“Yeah. When did you fall in love with Papa?” she inquired sweetly. Like all children, she had eventually grown a little more curious about her parents and often asked them about what they were like as kids- funny stories of their youths- how they met.
Leaning back into his chair, Lance scratched the back of his neck, “When did I fall in love with him?” he repeats the question, unsure of the answer himself. Honestly, it felt like it had just happened. Now that he was in love it was hard to recall a time when he wasn’t. It felt impossible to even imagine not being in love with Keith. “That is a good question, baby girl,” he brings her into his arms, smiling, “Let me think about that,” and think he did, but he couldn’t figure out an answer.
“Don’t you know?” she asks.
“Well, that is the funny thing about love- sometimes you don’t realize it is there, so it is hard to tell when it got there in the first place,” he says slowly.
“I know when,” arms, strong and familiar, wrapped around Lance’s shoulders, pulling him back a little. Feeling his husband nuzzled into his shoulder, Lance blinked wildly. “It was when aliens crashed down,”