He lay in waiting with poignant thoughts racing. Watching from afar, even in breathes bumping his chest alive as the minutes ticked by. Lack the need of sleep bothered him nothing of the hushes of words above him.
A worried mother, pacing along with her shadow, head down, and muffle words leaving tired lips, but weakness to stop, never came.
Far from eye sight, a father as well in the room mirrored his wife.
The wary feel of being unsure was thick in the air. Indeed of what has been done, is out of one hand, and can go forth. Daylight setting proved it even more for the time wasted to end it, was far too late.
He knew in time, the girl would awaken, spilling the tale of oh long ago. Battering a man who has ruthlessly never stopped the chase of what has been tip from falling.
It is how the game is played.
The gravel echo of tries to road grew in loudness, as it came toward the house.
In quickness, the man dressed in red hid.
Eyes peeled on the car coming to park, curbed near the sidewalk. The face of the driver was all too familiar, if caught, the memoires would be unbearable to conflict of something years ago between them.
One path of life has been taken upon, it was best to leave be the second one that has become, unworkable to saunter upon.
Blindside of thinking of old scars, the new arrival was already at the door, knocking away entwining the sad married couple to come down stairs to answer.
â€œWill? What a surprise to see you, is everything alright?â€ The first male spoke, as his wife let him in.
The fleeting words of the following were the hidden man heard.
â€œI just thought to check on you guys, after everything that has happen, a familiar face would be welcoming. Well, at least on better terms . . . how is . . .â€
The door clicked to a close. Hushing the rest to nothing but the white din of outside natureâ€™s hum, to the man in red, it was bothering.
The man in red gave a sigh, removing himself the green hideaway, looking at the doorstep, of where the man, Will, once stood, eyes glaring only a bit. Not of hatred but annoyance.
â€œYou canâ€™t leave things well enough alone, can you, Will . . . what your daughter would think of it?â€
To that, he was gone, going back and making sure the plan was still going. Even if it pained his heart of it, which soon, it would likely stopped beating.