Sitting in front of his computer screen with a blank look on his face, he was picturing everything that Sabine had shown him from her encounter with Connor. She shared that with him when she obviously hadn’t wanted to. She trusted him with something when she feared his rejection. Yet, he had been hiding a secret from her all along...
“No, Jordan! I am not going to keep arguing with you over this. I told you at the beginning of the school year that if you didn’t make good grades, you wouldn’t be allowed to go to Billy’s birthday party. You shouldn’t have promised him something you knew you couldn’t do.” She turned back to doing the dishes, signalling that the conversation was over.
She hadn’t even given it a moment’s thought. That always irritated Jordan, and this time was no different. “You don’t even listen to me anymore. Not that you ever did. I keep telling you that the teachers just don’t like me.”
She didn’t even look away from the sink this time. “The teachers don’t hate you, Jordan. They just want to see you get your head out of the clouds, and I can’t say I disagree.”
Get his head out of the clouds? He was making big strides in the computer industry right here in their own house. Mr. Kramer had given him a D on his homemade computer. While crude and basic, it still did the most basic of calculations without being big and bulky like all the computers available at the moment. He stomped from the room, really angry now. He grabbed the science project he was so proud of and stormed back into the large kitchen, slamming it down on the table.
“This is not having my head in the clouds. This is me being more inventive and intelligent that most, if not all of the other kids my age. Do you know how many 10 year olds there are that can’t even turn on a computer, let alone BUILD one? You should be beaming with pride like a normal mother, not punishing me. Mr. Kramer is nothing but a hippy stuck in the 60s.” He crossed his arms and had to force himself not to hit something. His anger was starting to become an issue that he was really trying to keep under control.
She turned around and glanced up at him while drying her hands. “Jordan, that toy is not a science project. Its nothing more than an oversized calculator.” She shook her head, getting obviously tired of the same conversation over and again. Having a moment of pure hatred for belittling him yet again, Jordan had an image of a kitchen knife stabbing her directly in the heart several times. He was shocked as soon as he saw the vision, unable to open his eyes to look at the mother he just envisioned killing. It was her scream that forced his eyes open. What he saw, he would never forget.
The same knife he’d pictured stabbing her repeatedly was just now dropping to the floor next to her. There was no one holding it. There was no string attached to it. It did it on its own...that was impossible, right? He screamed and ran to her, falling to the floor and picking her head up, pulling it into his lap. “Mom, mom? Mom, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Oh God, please don’t die.”
“Sorry for what, Jordan? Oh dear God!” Jordan looked up to see his father crossing himself before turning from the door with terror in his eyes. Without needing to hear him say another word, Jordan knew where his father would go. Father Michael was the only Catholic priest in the county, and he had approval from the archdiocese to preform exorcisms. The last one he’d preformed was on a girl Jordan knew in first grade. She still walks with a limp and later confessed to Jordan that she’d only acted out of control to get attention. She hadn’t been possessed. No one would listen to her after she’d let it go to far. She had only been 7 years old at the time. Everyone knew she was lucky to survive. Father Michael’s exorcisms were far too violent and cruel. If the church knew, they would have him arrested.
Jordan let his mother’s head roll to the floor and wiped his eyes, leaving a red streak across his face and scrambled to his feet, running out the door. He and his father had never gotten along. Jordan never truly felt like he fit in at school, home, church...anywhere. His father, however, never even looked at him like a son. Remembering the last time he’d condemned him, he was seething with anger and fear of a repeat. Between the priest and the belt, he knew he wouldn’t be getting away without a fight. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, the sound echoing through the canyon his parents had nearly secluded them in. He suddenly pictured a tree falling in the path of the truck and heard the crunch of glass and metal.
Opening his eyes, he expected to see that the truck had crashed into a fallen tree in the road. He fell to his knees at the picture in front of him. The truck had been going faster than Jordan had anticipated and the tree had fallen on the roof, crushing the cab..and its operator. Jordan’s mind went completely blank at that moment as he cried into the dirt and gravel.
Jordan snapped out of his memories as his alarm on his watch went off, signalling time to take his meds. He felt like he couldn’t share that part of himself with anyone. The police had closed the case on his father’s death as an accident. His mother’s case was still sitting in a basement storage area as a cold case. The evidence pointed nowhere since the only prints on the knife had been his mother’s. Swallowing the anti-depressants, Jordan knew he needed to keep this to himself.
“No, Jordan! I am not going to keep arguing with you over this. I told you at the beginning of the school year that if you didn’t make good grades, you wouldn’t be allowed to go to Billy’s birthday party. You shouldn’t have promised him something you knew you couldn’t do.” She turned back to doing the dishes, signalling that the conversation was over.
She hadn’t even given it a moment’s thought. That always irritated Jordan, and this time was no different. “You don’t even listen to me anymore. Not that you ever did. I keep telling you that the teachers just don’t like me.”
She didn’t even look away from the sink this time. “The teachers don’t hate you, Jordan. They just want to see you get your head out of the clouds, and I can’t say I disagree.”
Get his head out of the clouds? He was making big strides in the computer industry right here in their own house. Mr. Kramer had given him a D on his homemade computer. While crude and basic, it still did the most basic of calculations without being big and bulky like all the computers available at the moment. He stomped from the room, really angry now. He grabbed the science project he was so proud of and stormed back into the large kitchen, slamming it down on the table.
“This is not having my head in the clouds. This is me being more inventive and intelligent that most, if not all of the other kids my age. Do you know how many 10 year olds there are that can’t even turn on a computer, let alone BUILD one? You should be beaming with pride like a normal mother, not punishing me. Mr. Kramer is nothing but a hippy stuck in the 60s.” He crossed his arms and had to force himself not to hit something. His anger was starting to become an issue that he was really trying to keep under control.
She turned around and glanced up at him while drying her hands. “Jordan, that toy is not a science project. Its nothing more than an oversized calculator.” She shook her head, getting obviously tired of the same conversation over and again. Having a moment of pure hatred for belittling him yet again, Jordan had an image of a kitchen knife stabbing her directly in the heart several times. He was shocked as soon as he saw the vision, unable to open his eyes to look at the mother he just envisioned killing. It was her scream that forced his eyes open. What he saw, he would never forget.
The same knife he’d pictured stabbing her repeatedly was just now dropping to the floor next to her. There was no one holding it. There was no string attached to it. It did it on its own...that was impossible, right? He screamed and ran to her, falling to the floor and picking her head up, pulling it into his lap. “Mom, mom? Mom, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Oh God, please don’t die.”
“Sorry for what, Jordan? Oh dear God!” Jordan looked up to see his father crossing himself before turning from the door with terror in his eyes. Without needing to hear him say another word, Jordan knew where his father would go. Father Michael was the only Catholic priest in the county, and he had approval from the archdiocese to preform exorcisms. The last one he’d preformed was on a girl Jordan knew in first grade. She still walks with a limp and later confessed to Jordan that she’d only acted out of control to get attention. She hadn’t been possessed. No one would listen to her after she’d let it go to far. She had only been 7 years old at the time. Everyone knew she was lucky to survive. Father Michael’s exorcisms were far too violent and cruel. If the church knew, they would have him arrested.
Jordan let his mother’s head roll to the floor and wiped his eyes, leaving a red streak across his face and scrambled to his feet, running out the door. He and his father had never gotten along. Jordan never truly felt like he fit in at school, home, church...anywhere. His father, however, never even looked at him like a son. Remembering the last time he’d condemned him, he was seething with anger and fear of a repeat. Between the priest and the belt, he knew he wouldn’t be getting away without a fight. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, the sound echoing through the canyon his parents had nearly secluded them in. He suddenly pictured a tree falling in the path of the truck and heard the crunch of glass and metal.
Opening his eyes, he expected to see that the truck had crashed into a fallen tree in the road. He fell to his knees at the picture in front of him. The truck had been going faster than Jordan had anticipated and the tree had fallen on the roof, crushing the cab..and its operator. Jordan’s mind went completely blank at that moment as he cried into the dirt and gravel.
Jordan snapped out of his memories as his alarm on his watch went off, signalling time to take his meds. He felt like he couldn’t share that part of himself with anyone. The police had closed the case on his father’s death as an accident. His mother’s case was still sitting in a basement storage area as a cold case. The evidence pointed nowhere since the only prints on the knife had been his mother’s. Swallowing the anti-depressants, Jordan knew he needed to keep this to himself.