...
"I'm exhausted!"
I came home after a long, hard day at school. I was teaching students who either didn't understand math or weren't interested in the numbers and problems I was writing on the board. It was exhausting.
But I'm all for the latter.
As soon as I walk in, I take off my shoes and throw them lazily on the floor, looking for my slippers. I can't find them after looking in almost every corner, even though I remember very well where I left them.
It's strange.
I shrug, toss my bag on the couch, and head to the bathroom, rummaging through the drawers for something to ease the headache that's been bugging me since this morning.
But wait, something's missing.
I furrow my eyebrows suspiciously, glancing at all the stuff lined up on the shelf.My favorite perfume is gone.
I turn around and glance around the bathroom in a voice that won't rise to the level of a scream.
I'm nervous right now.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?"
I stay in the same position as before, waiting for any suspicious movement, but nothing.
Wait, I heard footsteps in the hallway, but I think I know where my slippers went.
This unknown person broke into my house while I was gone, put on my slippers, and is now walking around my house like it's his own.
Okay, I'm starting to freak out. My adrenaline is pumping, and my heart is beating faster.
I swallow three times, thinking, or rather, looking for a weapon to confront him with, maybe a psycho or a killer with a gun.
Should I use the shampoo bottle?
I won't even be able to call the police because I left my phone in my bag.
What a mess.
I'm in trouble.
I can't help but get out of the bathroom to try to find out who the thief is. It's crazy that I'm stuck in the bathroom and let him walk off with my stuff.
I cautiously peek my head out from behind the bathroom door, searching my eyes for any shadow of that asshole.
The scent of my perfume hangs in the air, and I use it to trace the source.
A thief and an idiot.
I go into the kitchen, open the drawer slowly, pull out a knife to hide behind my back, and take slow steps toward the stairs leading to my bedroom.
The scent of my perfume gets stronger as I get closer to the bedroom door, which is half-open.
I pause to fill my lungs with enough oxygen before touching the handle and opening the door wide.
There's no sign of anyone inside.
I tell them, "Get out of there, give yourself up, and don't be reckless. I'm armed!"
I say, sounding like I'm about to lose it, as I tighten the knife handle with my fingers. This whole situation is really getting to me.
I'm met with silence, and I bite my lower lip as the anger starts to take over.
I look under the bed for the idiot, but I can't find him.
I stare at the closet for a bit before I go up to it, smiling a little, and say as I get ready to open it
"I know you're here!"
I open it up and take out my hanging clothes, and I'm met with a childish face staring at me, looking kind of scared.
I'm taken aback, but then I realize that I was joining in the staring contest for many seconds.
It was like the color of his eyes had bewitched me.
Well, I've seen a lot of different blues, but this is the first time I've seen such an unusual shade of blue in his irises.
William, come to your senses.
I slap my cheek, grab him by the arm, and pull him out of the closet, pushing him away. He almost trips but gets his balance back, then he lowers his head, stroking his arm with an annoyed expression.
It hurt him.
"Who are you? How'd you get in here?"
I just ignore it and yell at him, but I never get a clear answer to my question.
It's going to drive me crazy.
I lick my lower lip as I glare at the boy standing in front of me, his face betraying his fear, and I notice his eyes glancing at the knife in my hand.
I exhale irritably and throw the knife on the bed, cross my arms over my chest, and tap one foot on the floor, waiting for an explanation from the strange young man.
"Talk or I'll take you to the police station to get what you've done."
He gasps and his eyes widen, then he grabs my slippers, puts them on the floor in front of me, and crosses his fingers, clearly nervous.
"I'm sorry."
He tries to move his legs to get away, but I stop him, grab him by the hood of his hoodie, and pull him back to me to force him to stand in front of me.
"You're not getting out of here until you tell me who you are and what you were doing in my house!"
I say, tapping my index finger on his forehead, and he just stares at his little fingers that he keeps playing with.
What the heck is this creature?
Is he dumb or just putting on a show so I'll feel sorry for him and let him get away with it?
Go on with your charade, but I'm not buying it!
After a few seconds of silence that got on my nerves, he finally comes up with an excuse that I'm not believing, staring right into my eyes and basically begging me with his gaze.
"I was really hungry, and I happened to pass by your house and saw the kitchen window was open, so I went in to look for some food."
Alright, I was almost willing to forgive him just to hear the truth, but he really rubbed me the wrong way with that provocative answer, making me even angrier.
I smirk and grab him by the ear, clenching my teeth.
"Don't you have a home to go to or does my house look like a soup kitchen to you?"
I'm waiting for him to lie again, and I'm watching him out of the corner of my eye, and he's making this pained expression.
He surprises me with an answer that's even stranger than he looks.
"I don't own a house."
"What?"
I keep staring at him in silence with a puzzled expression until he speaks again.
"Let go of my ear, please. You're hurting me."
I grab him by the collar of his shirt and force him to sit on the bed, snarling at him.
"Tell me you don't have a family to support you too and I'll throw you out the window if you keep lying to me!"
"I don't have a family."
And for the second time, he makes eye contact with me, as if he's trying to influence me with his gaze. Is he trying to mock me with his answer?
Wait a minute, am I seeing the tears in his eyes or am I just imagining it?
I'm not imagining it.
He purses his lips to show me that he's trying to hold back his tears like a little kid who's made a mistake and is afraid of being punished.
"What's wrong with you?"
I'm not sure what to do.
I keep staring at him, rubbing the back of my head, and furrowing my eyebrows when I notice something shiny on the thumb of my right hand.
I held my hand up to my face, admiring the ring, and I have no idea where I got it.
I don't even remember wearing a ring. I'm not usually one for jewelry.
And why is the blue so close to his eyes?
And why does it keep flashing like that?
There's got to be something weird going on.
I take two steps back, trying to take off this weird ring, but it just doesn't budge no matter how hard I try.
"What's going on?"
The ring keeps flashing in a way that's both unsettling and distracting, and the strange guy keeps crying.
"Shut up, you annoying!"
I didn't realize I was screaming so much until my voice echoed around the room and the boy's body shook and it got quiet.
He stops crying and stares at me in horror again.
But as soon as he stopped crying, the ring stopped flashing.
What's going on?
I swallow hard and keep backing up until my back hits the wall. My eyes nervously watch the boy who keeps smiling goofily, moving his legs back and forth, looking at every corner of my room as if he's not the same person who was crying earlier.
Is he schizophrenic or something?
"Who are you?"
With a big smile and a gentle tilt of his head, he says. "My name is Evander. Evander doesn't like to be bullied. Please treat Evander with kindness and take care of him."
....