yardbird | ✘ lost in the flames

A ball bounces nearby; rolling across his head. Murphy Pendleton is lying on his belly over solid pavement now. Strange, how he doesn't remember ever getting here, and how this kind of thing doesn't seem to surprise him anymore.

What he does remember is Alex. He remembers being attacked, and the soreness of his leg, and the blood and tears on his clothes. But everything had gone by so fast. He's trying to piece together the puzzle; it's too scattered.

Useless...

He turns his head and looks up, more surprised by the fact that he recognizes the garage door. A ball rolls away from the basketball hoop, tapping the wheel of the car parked there and keeps on moving despite no boost for it.

Murphy feels his muscles ache as he pushes himself off the ground. Looking around, he notices this driveway, this whole front yard with a distinct familiarity.

"...Shit, why here...?" He asks this, though knows there's no one around to give him a straight reply.

This time, he isn't drawn to the lake by his son's cries for help. Even if he did, he's sure that he shouldn't fall into the same trap once again. That would be stupid.

Murphy does hold himself together, grabbing his ribs and using the parked car (his car) for support as he leans on it. He remembers this car, though it's been years since he's ever seen it. Last time had been after his divorce, and against his own volition, he'd sold it so he could afford to keep up with paying out for a hotel room. A temporary situation back then, as he was obsessed, and then the inevitable happened...

The garage and driveway is not without a home. He looks up at the Bostonian townhouse, and it's strange. The sky over it, and everything around him -- it's still. Like it's all part of some kind of still-screen, except the basketball is rolling away on its own. He briefly thinks about a film splice before Murphy is able to move again himself.

Somehow, part of him understands that he must do something different this time. It's just like what Anne had told him, that maybe this really is like last time. Maybe there's something that he hasn't yet finished, put behind him, or something... He's quicker to believe that than anything else.

When Murphy limps, there is no echo, no resonance with his surroundings. Only the flat of his feet over the pavement.

Weird. The gate whines as Murphy pushes it open, at least. It stays ajar, does not shift or latch afterwards. He doesn't bother to secure it -- there's nobody around, anyway.

He ascends the front stairs tentatively. He doesn't know if this is what he's supposed to do, or where he's supposed to go. Somehow, it just feels right, as if the unfinished business must be here. He can't explain it any other way.

Out the corner of his eye, something shifts the blinds in the window. He swivels his head towards it. By then, it's gone, though the lingering paranoia that he's being watched remains.

"Carol?" He doesn't know why or how he comes to this line of thinking. In a way, it strikes him as the most obvious answer. Charlie is gone. In this scene, he's been gone. Painful as it may be, as he hates to accept that, he can't see it any other way.

If there's "unfinished business" as Anne had claimed, then it has to be here.

Something clicks then. It's the front door.

He realizes that when he takes the door handle and turns it. It has been unlocked.

I'm home.

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✘ lost in the flames

{Furnace Room Lullaby | Part I.}