It’s not my home

The new apartment smelled of dust and fresh paint. Boxes of their belongings were jammed against the walls. And Nox stood right next to them. He still held his black guitar case in his hands. His gaze nervously scanned the room.

The apartment was small. The kitchen, which also doubled as a dining room, was connected to the living room. In the small front room was the bathroom. And at the end, a small room, which was his. The apartment was small, too small to accommodate them for the rest of the days they would be together. Nox grimaced and looked at Remir.

“Really? This is supposed to be a house?…It’s a cage!” His voice was sharp, full of resentment.

Remir put down his bag and went to the small kitchen. He immediately began unpacking the most necessary things on the counter. He pretended not to hear his son’s tone.

“Nox, it’s just for a while, until I find something bigger. You knew this was necessary.”

Nox felt something boiling inside him with anger. The boy clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into his skin, and a metallic crack of replaced bones erupted from one wrist. That single word, “It was necessary,” made him feel like someone had punched him in the stomach.

“IT WAS NECESSARY FOR YOU! I WANTED TO STAY!”

Remir turned to Nox, but it was too late. The cramped apartment, the suffocating smell of paint, the new sounds outside, and the novelty of it all were too much for the boy.

Nox began to spin around the boxes and suddenly kicked one with such force that it shattered. His father’s tools spilled out with a clatter on the floor.

“Nox!” Remir reached out to him, trying to get the boy’s attention.

But the boy covered his ears with his hands, almost as if trying to shut himself out. Suddenly, Nox let out a terrifying scream. It wasn’t words, it was pure, raw sound. Remir knew it was a desperate attempt to expel everything that was choking the boy from within. In frustration, Nox kicked a locker and then slid to the floor. Leaning back against the same locker, he’d kicked it moments earlier. His breathing was heavy as he drew his knees up to bury his face.

Remir walked over to the boy and sat down across from him. Silently, he didn’t try to touch the boy because he knew it would only make things worse.

Instead, he began to speak to Nox slowly and calmly, almost in a whisper.

“Son, look at me, I’m here with you. Everything’s okay.”

His voice was monotonous, repetitive, just the way the boy liked it.

The screaming subsided after a moment, and Nox’s breathing began to calm. However, the boy remained curled up on the floor. Remir saw Nox’s finger twitch nervously on his guitar case. After a moment, Nox lifted his head from his lap. His chest was still heaving erratically. His gaze darted past his father to the emptiness before him.

“I know this is a lot for you, Nox.” Remir gently moved closer to the boy. “I know you hate this change, but everything will be alright, you’re here with me.”

Nox didn’t look at him, only snorted softly. Almost as if he wanted to laugh and curse at the same time. They sat there in silence for a moment longer. Remir knew it had been minutes, but to him, it felt like hours. Nox finally looked at him. His hands rubbed his prosthetic leg, feeling the cold metal beneath his fingers and every single cut in his leg.

“Dad… I’m scared.”

Remir froze. For a moment, it seemed to him that all the sounds outside had stopped.

“What are you afraid of, son?”

“That he’ll come back for me. That he knows I’m alive.” Nox’s voice broke. And Remir felt the boy move closer to him and snuggle up to him. His arms were shaking. The father gently embraced his son. Remir felt his throat tighten.

“It’s okay, I’m with you, Nox.”

“You won’t leave me?”

“Never, Son.”

——————

8:45 PM

Remir sat in the kitchen with a mug of coffee that had long since cooled. His gaze was fixed on Nox, who was sleeping restlessly on the couch, covered with a thin blanket. The boy tossed and turned, and Remir could hear his son’s quiet murmurs in his sleep.

Despite his own exhaustion, he didn’t want to leave his son. Remir lifted his mug to take another sip of his coffee when he heard a soft, yet unsettling clatter against the door. Remir glanced at Nox again. The boy continued to sleep, oblivious to the noise. He quietly got up and glanced at the clock on the nightstand in the living room.

The numbers read:

8:45 PM

Remir swallowed as he grabbed the wrench lying on the counter. He cautiously approached the door and opened it a crack. Ready to attack. But no one was there. Remir peered outside. He looked around. Empty. But when he looked down, his breath caught. A folded piece of paper lay on the doormat. With trembling hands, he picked it up and unfolded it. The first thing that caught his attention was the strong smell of cigarette smoke and some chemical. Remir glanced at the writing. It was uneven and crooked. Almost as if someone had written the message in a hurry.

-It’s not over yet, Virell…-

Remir swallowed and turned back to the living room, where Nox slept. The boy’s sleep was finally peaceful. Remir folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

He didn’t want to think about it, but he knew it wasn’t over yet.

Because whoever had his eye on his son wasn’t going to let up.

And he knew… He knew Nox was alive.

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