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The day started as any other, in retrospect. Aside from the fact that Vincent woke up screaming as he fell out of bed at eleven am. The nineteen year old, four days from twenty, three months out of high school, gasped for breath, looking around in a daze, his brilliant green eyes clouded from sleeping far too long. Panicked breathing slowly turned to slow, even breaths as he pulled himself from the tangle of sheets to stand next to his bed. That dream, it was getting more and more persistent. Four and a half years later, he was still plagued by nightmares. He still woke up in a cold sweat, screaming. Sometimes for no one in particular, sometimes for one of his friends. Anyone at all that could stop the pain.
Shuddering, Vincent rubbed his arms furiously, trying to take the goosebumps away. No luck. He slipped into his jeans, pulled on his white wife-beater, and threw on his red overshirt. He looked messy and unkempt. Just how he had looked all those days prior to this one and all the days after graduation. He hadn’t seen any of his friends after graduation, they scattered to the four winds. Desmond... Gone somewhere. Cain and Gale? Same, they up and vanished. Noel, Cossette, Morgan, and Kara? All of them had gone somewhere while Vincent was left to wonder just what the hell had gone on, still living at his parents, working a dead-end job as a delivery boy for Dominos Pizza. He had saved every penny from work, living off only tips, and had a significant supply of money tucked away in his pocket, er, his bank account. He was getting the hell out as soon as he had enough money.
It saddened him to think that Morgan wouldn’t be sneaking in his basement bedroom late at night anymore. He had always looked forward to her visits, despite the fact that they meant bad things had happened at her house. Vincent was just glad for the company. The girl never expected too much from him, he liked that. He wasn’t very good with expectations.
A comb dragged through his hair quickly and set aside as he stared in the mirror. After his friends left, he had no reason to keep himself well groomed. He came to people’s doors at night, holding a steaming box of pizza, and left. They wouldn’t know who he was or why he was there. It was just... Stupid to waste his time on appearance when it would just cost him money in the end.
Semi-satisfied with his disheveled appearance, he trudged up the stairs, dragging his feet. His father-figure sat at the table, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. The scene was so obscene that he couldn’t help but shake his head. Who, in this day and age, had the time of day to read the newspaper on their lunch break? Jude Krinkle was really something, it was a shame Vincent couldn’t be related to him through blood. Vincent sat down at the table, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sipped the near-boiling liquid carefully. He watched his father for a sign that talking to him would be alright.
Jude took an elaborate sip of his coffee, staring at Vincent over the rim of the mug the whole time. Setting the coffee mug down, he ruffled the paper and folded it back into it’s original position, carefully avoiding any creases where they were not desired. He had the strange habit of buying the paper, reading it, then returning it to the stand or container he had gotten it in. That often meant paying to replace the paper where it seemingly belonged. He cleared his throat and looked over his reading glasses at his son.
Vincent eagerly jumped at the chance to talk to his father. “I was wondering if you and mom wanted a pizza for dinner,” he said, his eyes so bright it seemed he would blind his father.
Jude arched an eyebrow and smiled. “You brought pizza home last week. Lets try something else,” he replied in his soothing, fatherly voice.
Vincent frowned, letting himself relax. He tried to read his father’s face, looked at the creases and wrinkles that told the story of his life. Vincent opened his mouth, closed it, and took a sip of coffee. What was he going to say? Jude’s face said it all, he had heard Vincent that morning.
“You screamed again,” his mother’s voice said from the hallway.
Vincent turned to see his beautiful whore of a mother, palms on her hips, hair tied back, thin, pale face full of anger and worry. He swallowed hard and shrugged. “Just a nightmare, nothing to worry about, mom,” he said quietly.
“Do you need to go to a councillor? We can afford it. You’ve woken up screaming three times this week, Vince, I’m worried about you.”
“Mom, it’s alright, really. Just random nightmares. It’s probably all the sugar I eat before bed. It’s nothing to be worried about,” Vincent lied with a smile on his face. He had become very good at lying to them, they never suspected it anyway.
Narrowing her eyes, Kassandra scoffed. “It’s not for your health, I’m sick of waking up to that dreadful noise,” she said in irritation, leaving the room with nothing more than a baleful glance at her son.
Vincent’s shoulders twitched, visibly betraying the hurt in his soul. There was something not right with him and his mother’s relationship. She seemed to hate him more and more each day. It hurt to think that the woman who cared for him when he was little hated him. Though it could be because Vincent knew the truth about his real father and Kassandra, being the b***h that woman was, couldn’t stand it.
Vincent got to his feet and blinked away a tear threatening to spill out of his eye. Setting the coffee mug on the table, he looked at his father. “I’m going to work now,” he informed him mechanically.
Jude shook his head and waved a hand. He couldn’t say anything to the kid, not after his mother had ripped him to shreds in one sentence. Pulling himself from the table, he gathered up the used coffee mugs and herded them to the sink.
Vincent jogged to his car, hopping in and letting his hands run over the leather. It always calmed him, the feel of his car. He set his forehead on the steering wheel and sighed heavily, closing his eyes. The nightmare... It had to go away somehow. He sucked it up, lifting his head and starting the car. He backed out and headed to Dominos. It was a long shot, he knew, but if he sped, he would get there on time for his first set of deliveries.