Kindling | BxB

Finley Carter gazed shakily out of his top floor bedroom window, He was perched comfortably on the slim windowsill staring out at clouds of smoke enveloping the dark night sky, slowly covering the blinking starlight piece by piece. His Dad, Chief Carter. Was yet to make it home. Finley traced his finger softly down the glass pane, craning his neck as the smoke began to seep above the window frame.

He let out a small sigh, the night air was still filled with sirens. Smoke framing the big tree that stood stoically in Finley’s front yard. What if his Dad was hurt? What if he never made it home? Trying to push the anxiety ridden thoughts out of his head Finley delicately dismounted from the windowsill. He shivered slightly wrapping his jacket around his slim frame to shield himself from the cold.

Quickly he bustled into the bathroom being blinded by the bright light. Staring at himself in the mirror he sighed again. His brown curly hair was dishevelled. There were bags forming under his deep brown eyes drowning out the freckles dotted across his face and nose like constellations. Taking a deep breath to compose himself Finley carefully opened his cabinet. After rifling around it in it for a few seconds he eventually found the box containing his pills.

Happy Pills he called them. That’s what they were meant to do, make him happy. His therapist had told him it could take 4 or so weeks to begin to work. Yet it had been 6 months now, the dose had gone up and up and up with no results at all. Finley was still depressed, and at this point he’d given up on the pills ever working.

Quietly holding the packet in his palm Finley fumbled with it until one of the small, white capsules popped out. Barely even looking at it twice Finley tossed it into the basin. It landed with a small plop before sinking in the water. Not really even registering what he was doing Finley then flushed the toilet watching as the pill disappeared from view.

Pacing back out of the bathroom he then picked up a small book from his nightstand, it was an A6 paper journal, on the front was a glittery golden background with a Minion smiling goofily back at him. His Dad had gotten it for him when he was small. Despicable Me had been his favourite movie back then, now he struggled to even sit through an entire movie at all without losing concentration.

Slowly flipping it open he found the closest blank page. Setting pen to paper Finley began to write.

“Hi, It’s me again, who else would it be. Today has been... yeah. Dad isn’t home yet. I had to have dinner without him again. There’s also another fire in town, lots of smoke in the sky. Doctor Padmore asked me to start taking my meds properly again, I’m gonna tell her I have been doing, what difference would it make anyway. I’ve got school tomorrow as well. So I hope Dad is back soon. I’ll update you tomorrow, Journal”

Gently closing the book Finley placed it back on his bedside table. Writing in his journal was something that had always brought some form of closure. Whether it was venting his feelings or just talking about a mediocre day. It always felt like something he could turn too.

Suddenly the front door burst open. Finley jumped in surprise, he hadn’t even heard a car drive up. Leaping to his feet Finley rushed down the stairs, he could tell right away his father wasn’t in a good mood. His uniform had scorch marks on it, he smelt like he’d just slept on a barbecue for an hour and his face was thunderstruck.

“That damn boy” Chief Carter muttered, shoving his briefcase onto the floor and kicking his shoes off, they flew into the wall with a crash before flopping lopsidedly onto the ground. Finley crouched down, delicately straightening them out before turning to his father, who was still muttering under his breath. “Absolute scoundrel, fucking asshole. He’s going to be the death of me I swear to Christ”

“Are- Are you okay, Dad?” Finley whispered softly, cursing his stutter as he spoke out. In his journal he never stuttered, why did he have to do it when he spoke out loud? As if speaking wasn’t hard enough already.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about” Chief Carter replied, offering an unconvincing smile to Finley. “Just trouble at work, that’s all”

“Oh” Finley answered his voice still quiet. From the state his Dad had come into the house in, it seemed like more than ‘just trouble’

“Continue staying away from Lance Harris for me, okay?” His Dad then added, glancing firmly at his son.

“Yes Dad” Finley replied obediently, nodding his head in confirmation. Even the name on it’s own sent shivers down his spine. Lance Harris was the towns resident troublemaker, the true definition of a bad boy. He wore leather jackets, drove a beat up car, smoked, and had a penchant for setting fires. Allegedly at least, though it was an open secret at this point. He walked around the halls of Finley’s school with all the swagger in the world. A cocky grin constantly plastered to his face, an uncaring attitude always on display. He didn’t care who you were, or where you came from. People were all the same to Lance Harris. Just little pawns for his dangerous game.

Finley’s Dad had recounted those words to him countless times over meals, sat on the sofa, in the car, heck even when they were on holiday in France sat by the pool. Nothing got under his Dads skin more than Lance Harris.

“Go to bed now Finley, it’s getting late. You’re up early tomorrow for school too” Chief Carter stated, his eyes narrowing at Finley’s still form.

“What about you?” Finley questioned quietly. His eyes softening as he took in his Dads tired expression. It seemed like his Dad was the one in need of some rest, not him.

“Just do as your told Finley, please” He replied impatiently. Finley didn’t need to be told again. He nodded and said his goodnights, then trotted back up the stairs. Once back in his room he quickly packed his bag for tomorrow morning, then slid off his comfy clothes and headed into his bathroom, efficiently he brushed his teeth, then got into his woolly, warm pyjamas. He needed them for a cold winters night like tonight. Snow was being forecast for the weeks ahead too.

As Finley slipped on his shirt he glanced guiltily at one of the many red lines protruding on his wrist. They crisscrossed his pale skin looking crusty and out of place against the sweet boy that adorned them. Lightly running his finger along one of the uglier ones Finley felt tears building up in his wide brown eyes. Quickly blinking them away he rolled his sleeve up, switched off the light then curled up into bed. Soon enough his eyes fluttered shut and a the soft lullaby of sleep enveloped the quiet police chiefs son.