Chapter 10. Suspicious

The Cerulean Ford waved through the persistent momentum of the raindrops, slowing to a bend, headlights engrossed on the figure ahead.

Drenched by the tearing heavens, underneath the tree offering sanctuary. A cigarette lit amidst the cacophony, embers of a dignified solace, the man stood.

The roaring ferocity hailed a bust of finality, in cahoots with the flaming cinder. Ronald took a step outside his car, the fall inviting him in, the car door shut, watching him walk away.

The wetness an annoyance, puddles barred Ronald, seen the coverage of his guest, he pursued the shades embrace too.

Domain intruded, Bernard lifted his head. A summoning he wasn't sure of, the response surprisingly was immediate.

Though gratification instead derived emptiness in him. Ronald's troubles, he was aware of.

A haunting daunting his friend, damnation reaping closely on his child.

But troublesomeness prized his absence, when it saw a chance, it made it's presence, a hurting with expertise.

The rain clattered, a solo patter, somberness descends in the between.

"The rain doesn't bother you?"

"It does, though not as irritable, another takes priority." An inescapable emotion, Bernard struggled. What was it? The cigarette butt underneath thy heels, crushed. The smoke withering, an afterthought with no burning.

"I'm more hospitable than the rain, let's enter." Invitation given, a race they made.

The porch havened their arrival, the knob caressed, it lied of the warmth inside. Ronald illusioned a persistent inside, the warmth beyond the extinguishing of the outside. Bernard followed in, hostile outside beacons him.

Raw wood furnished for their sitting, the guest takes their goodwill.

Ronald disagrees, important matters at hand. Though custom followed his gesture, "Help yourself with some beer, I'll be right back."

Bernard nodded, a thirst that needed a quench.

Matters lingering, Ronald had to face it, the steps to the above encouraged him. The stairs, he ascended.

His disappearing act, Bernard seasoned it with a chilly froth of Guinness, the ceramic black counter reflecting his 'only'. The cold drink smothering his loneliness.

In waiting, a mellow yellow singed the walls, a bore they festered. Curiosity itched, Bernard took a scratch, a few he could discover in waiting.

A stroll around he took, the known unknown called unto him. The furniture and ornaments, dissuades him. Uninterested? It pulls him closer.

At last he halted, a calling, a mark of irrationality to be expounded upon, imperfection glared back at him.

Sentiment placings, graphic representation of memories fished from the callousness of time. Stained throughout the walls and cabinets. Films of remembrance, snippets of a time long gone, portraits held them in rebellion, forgetfulness partially kept afar.

Bernard inhaled, a musk of familiarity beguiling him, strangers wouldn't, discrepancies he searched for.

There it was, a smudge located, the forced perfection hid it in plain sight. A forged 'wronged'. Indifference as a tan, the black sheep has no tether.

Lucas's hollow had no nether, a frame of his 'yesterday' held no purpose, time eroded his past self as intended. His remembrance a hindrance to the families true happiness.

Intensity of love and hate, the depth assuring. His absence in the halo of his life-bringers, infected Bernard.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

That sudden noise, a distraction; peace defecting to chaos.

The steps to the upper looming with apprehension ahead. Above it's station? the unknown eludes it.

Bernard basked in his fore sight, a reaction preluded by his haste arrival here, he could empathize with Ronald, an anger he well understood; his also festering silently.

In the theater of explosions, precious projectiles were launched, the walls absorbing the sins of another, disarrayed the objects were.

Ronald experienced a surge on his outlet, his funnel not wide enough to predominate his quivering. The targets of his rampage lay a strewn, the reason intriguing.

The wooden platform of matrimony, the cause and victim of the outrage lay overturned, leaning on one side.

Underneath it's boards, an empty leather strap stayed, nailed unto the timber, it's possession missing, shaped to one singular form within, a customized pistol (non to be seen).

A safety measure against the Ill intended, detrimental to the ill fated. Security it promised, but the weapon had no allegiance, now in the whims of a corrupted.

A son he has, one that even a father loathes.

An event he had no privy to, blood almost spilled, a shadow of consequence from his son's decision to kill, it's claws stalking it's provoker, the one daring to intrude with evil intent.

Bernard always emulated the bizarre, thoughts hard to adapt to, formless like water.

Ronald knew no bounds to test him, his hands clenched, nothing to grasp, resignation enticing him to accept it.

Solving a sin of another, wondering why Lucas heeded the path of murder.

No concrete words or actions to pave a road to, the one and only Ronald had to take.

Exiting the room, descending downwards, the maelstrom he left behind, 'non' compared to his turmoil.

Underneath the yellow lights of the kitchen display. Bernard received him, the kitchen counter receptive, two cans occupying between their separation.

A conversation impending, eyes not warring, deliberation instead in progress. Words have power, chosen wisely.

Tap!

Tap!

Tap!

Tap!

A couple of taps on the surface, silence abhorred, Bernard had no time to waste, his fingers perpetrating a response from the disadvantaged party; Ronald knew he was in the frying pan, the sails looking up to him.

A vision he needed to create, a specific outcome to cave away.

"It's missing." Ronald said, voice, back to normal.

"As I suspected." Bernard nodded.

"So what's your game in all of this?" Leaning forward with his chin supported by his elbow on the surface, Ronald asked, "Am sure you have, something in mind, you haven't filed charges or confess to your suspicions.

"You want a cigarette?" The clock ticks, orbits longer than a few seconds ago. The damp air, the pack of cigarettes scents it.

"Nah" a mild refusal inferred, the nicotine still diffusing the air's boring spice, enticing his past addictions.

"It's funny you don't take my gestures anymore as goodwill.". Recognizing a fracture, Ronald's refusal wasn't taken well, a fragile relationship devolving further.

Whoever no thaw in his heart, too rigid to feel the break.

"Were past that Bernard, spit it out already." The mazing corners stressing, vexing frustration, a need to move on from stagnancy.

The conflict between their families exiled any form reconciliation, they felt the thread snapping(the representation of their friendship), connections losing out to hormones: their children the obvious cause.

"The truth Ronald, I was going to kill your boy, but interference always comes when the least we expect it." A card smeared in blood, laced to view. 'There's no going back.' Bernard thought.

"So consider your son's life saved." He added, a debt he was owed, he would collect it.

"You won't give me a straight answer?" Ronald plucked the strings of intuition, their quiver containing more tunes, he desired the utmost truthfulness.

"It depends" with every muscle twitching, a cost he fixed with the unpliable decision he made, profit was a delicacy Bernard always searched for.

"On what?"

"Your worth" a statement uttered, lies become a lost spring, trustworthy he preferred.

"I'll think I'll pass on that" those signs generous enough to warn him.

"I only ask for one thing?" the moment of truth, Bernard delivered with a pause.

"......"

"Give Alfred a chance."

"Can you rephrase that please?" the winds sometimes mistreat the sanctity of conversations, maybe he heard it wrong.

"Alfred's still pretty guilty about the whole scandal he was responsible for, so can you give them a chance to talk, at the right time.

Preposterousness strangling reason, Ronald heard the absurdness. "Are you joking with me, you know he's the prime reason were all here."

"I know. That why am asking, only for this." Assurance carving the curve of his lips, a smile sculptured to beguile.

"And why would I agree?"

"Because you have to, it's the least stringent compensation to me."

A weight to carry, Ronald brainstormed, but the immensity of all solutions too much, the heaviness still present in all, no matter where to derail.

"....."

"....."

"I'll think about it." Ronald announces, his mood deteriorating.

"No, you can't"

"Why is that?"

"I want an answer now?"

"This is my daughters dignity where talking about..."

"I disagree, her mental state might improve on having closure."

Ronald frowned, deeply unsettled, unnerving soaring his voice. "What are the other options?"

Bernard together with disappointment, friends they were not, alternatives morbidly distasteful for him, his next options he reluctantly voiced, "Well, it's quite simple."

Ronald quipped a brow, 'simple' contradicted the observable reluctance, but he let the other party speak.

"I need your blood, and a complete assurance in the next three days to follow my instructions"

A harder frown than the previous, "What do you need with my blood?"

"I can't say but you will know in a few days."

A scowl escaped from him, the implications suspicious, wariness stroking his gut, "I hope you won't use it in a crime scene or fraud."

Bernard snorted, profanities losing their imminent momentum with his self control, "Don't disparage my honor, rest assured I won't implicate you. It will even benefit you."

Ronald presented his limb, the jacket collar adjusted up to the elbow, his pale hands under the dim light, he trusted. "Where do I bleed?"

Bernard sighed, "I sincerely forgot to bring a syringe."

"It's the man's way then" Ronald rose up, returned with a knife in hand from the kitchen drawer.

The sharpness of the knife, Bernard stared further, the boldness more intriguing. Acceptance he expected, confusion too came hand in hand.

His hands retrieved from his coat, a glass tube presented. It hungered for a purpose.

A sharp edge sliced through the palm, skin parting with blood, a covenant it was not, but the tube cared less. Bernard harvested to the brim, the emptiness occupied with a darker red.

"Anything else?" Ronald asked. The result of his self mutilation, already bandaged, the medical kit always nearby. Watching his guest storing his life essence, the enemy to his fortified composure lashed with vex.

"Just be available, there will be an update in a few days." The downpour ceased, their meeting equally in completion. Occupied by the fog of uncertainty.

Regression to the simple days. It felt like a burden to go back to, mutually for both men.

"I'll show you the way out." The last of everything, meant more.

"No need, you have better things to worry about. Your wife won't appreciate your childish tantrums upstairs." A joke it was, a memorable advice it also contained.

Both knew, their friendship had no place anymore in particular adversities, such as theirs.

The phone rang as Ronald left. The subconsciousness always omniscient, Ronald took his wife's call.