3 A.M.

3 o’clock in the morning. A stranger appears at the doorway.  Ice crunches as I shift my weight. I stand separated, only a few inches of wood and glass, from you. I resent the fact that you don’t know me, but I fear that if you did, you would not open the door. We’re only a few inches apart, yet I feel that I’m miles away.

11 o’clock in the evening. I’ve been walking for hours. Wading and waiting through the abandoned streets. I don’t know how I ended up here again. Every house is sleeping, every door shut. Not a single light deigns to illuminate my way. The bruises on my knees reveal the malice in the ice beneath my feet. Every step towards the darkness pulls me further into my mind, further into the past.

-

“Alex, are you okay?” Dad asks from the kitchen, light streams into the house in soft, golden rays.

My mind goes blank as I continue staring out the window. They can’t find out what I’ve done.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I whisper. Though months had passed since the accident, I still feel the blood coating my hands. Now, I can barely stop them from shaking as I turn to face the person I once confided everything in.

-

12 o’clock. I am still walking. My mind drifts with the snow flurries above me. I wonder what I would give to see just one sliver of light peeking through someone’s blinds. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for some warmth. I pass by looming townhomes, glaring one story duplexes, single family homes that remind me of my childhood. As I draw near the one with a stained-glass door and a gable roof, I taste sweet tea in the back of my throat and feel sunshine warm my face. I lean back on the porch chair with a contented smile, drowning in my sister’s laughter carried by the wind. Hints of clean-cut grass tickle my nose as I continue rocking the chair. Back and forth and back and forth. My father calls us inside for dinner, but I don’t want to leave my chair. I keep rocking: back and forth and back and forth. I barely feel the ice pelting my skin.

1 o’clock in the morning. A mouse creeps along the outskirts of the porch. Silently padding by, hoping to slip past the world unnoticed. But it doesn’t see the tracks it leaves behind in the snow. A flash of black fur slips behind it. Red seeps into the snow. The footprints are bloody. I knock twice on the door. 

2 o’clock in the morning. A dog’s silhouette greets me from the other side. Curious sniffling, followed by the fading sound of paw pads. All I want is some warmth. A television program blares on in the background. I knock again. 

“Who are you?” A voice crackles through the intercom. 

“I –” I’m not sure what to say. I am your son, I want to say. I have come looking for you. Please forgive me for what I have done. I have finally found you again.

Instead, I say, “I just need a phone charger. My phone died and I have no connection.” I only feel their eyes through the camera. Would they recognize me? Some part of me hopes they would, but another part knows that if they did, I would need to run again. Run, as fast as I could from them. 

-

What have you done. What have I done?

Sirens blare and cold metal digs into my wrists. My gaze is empty as I watch my family through the back of the cop car. Their eyes pierce into mine. Look what have you done.

I didn’t mean to hurt him. It was that time of night when the lights started blending into stars and my steps were uneven. I wasn’t thinking straight. One moment he was my new brother, the next he was a threat. A few moments after, he was in a hospital bed. I just wanted our family to stay the same. No one was meant to find out it was me. I don’t even know if he survived or not.

-

Silence hangs heavy in the air. 

“Go away.” That voice crackles again. A voice that had once comforted in nights like this one, a voice that had once lulled me to sleep. How different we were now, separated by glass panes and window shades. I hear laughter in the background as a man’s voice drones on. 

Suddenly, I am lying on the living room floor again, watching Corbin’s Late-Night Show. Warm arms wrap a blanket around my shoulders as father laughs from his leather recliner. My mother looks down at me with clear eyes that reflect radiant pixels on the screen. Something swells in my chest as I look back up at her, seeing love reflected in them as well. 

“You need to leave, or we’ll call the police.” The line suddenly drops off.

My blood goes cold.

The last remnants of warmth evaporate from my bruises, my tattered clothes, and my bloodied hands. The hair on the back of my neck raises. That cat should have never tried to interfere with my meal. 

The dog inside is barking now, and I continue to rock on my heels. Back and forth and back and forth. The ground is coated in red.

3 o’clock. You sent him to get rid of me. 

When the stranger came to answer the door, I knew you wanted me gone. Not only that, but I knew he had survived me. My little brother, a stranger then and a stranger now. I thought about running. I thought about how many times I’d run before. 

So, I don’t run this time. 

My footsteps are bloody as I walk away. I am tired of going unnoticed. I am tired of creeping on the outskirts.

I am tired of begging for warmth when my home has always been amongst the ice.