Chapter 9 - Building a Home
Several weeks had passed since that terrifying first night.
The transition from summer to early autumn painted the neighborhood in bright orange and gold.
The heavy, suffocating fear in the house had slowly begun to fade away.
It was replaced by the warm, cheerful sounds of a real family.
It was a bright Saturday morning.
Peter was back out on the front porch.
The battered black toolbox was open next to him once again.
This time, however, he was not working alone.
Drew sat right beside him on the wooden steps.
The thick white bandage on his knee was finally gone, leaving only a pale pink scar.
He was holding a small, silver wrench with immense concentration.
"Okay, bud, hand me the Phillips-head screwdriver," Peter said casually.
Drew scanned the open toolbox carefully.
He picked up a yellow-handled tool and handed it over proudly.
"Perfect," Peter smiled, tightening a loose screw on a wooden birdhouse they were building.
"Can we paint it red so the birds can see it from far away?" Drew asked.
"We can paint it any color you want," Peter assured him.
Inside the house, bright piano music drifted through the open screen door.
Lily was sitting at the kitchen table, aggressively coloring a picture.
Her pink unicorn was propped up on a chair next to her, watching her work.
She had gained a healthy amount of weight, and the dark circles under her eyes had completely vanished.
Peter looked at Drew, marveling at the boy's beautiful transformation.
Drew was no longer the hyper-vigilant, exhausted protector.
He was slowly learning how to just be a kid.
"Uncle Peter?" Drew asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Yeah, Drew?" Peter answered, looking up from the birdhouse.
"Mark is coming over for dinner tonight, right?"
"He sure is," Peter replied.
"He is bringing pizzas from that place downtown."
Drew smiled brightly, adjusting his grip on the small metal wrench.
"Good, because I made him a thank-you card with my new markers."
Peter felt a sudden, thick lump form in his throat.
He reached over and pulled Drew into a quick, tight side hug.
"He is going to completely love it, buddy," Peter told him softly.
Drew leaned into the hug, thoroughly relaxed and at ease.
They turned their attention back to the small wooden birdhouse.
The front porch was bathed in warm, golden sunlight.
May you like
There were no more monsters waiting in the dark basement.
There was only this porch, this toolbox, and this beautiful, peaceful morning.
