Beyond the Breaking Point - Chapter 1

Ah, the first chapter. The challenge of hooking your reader is a true challenge. Isn't it?

Chapter 1

She was watching him again. He could feel her anxious stare on his back. Finn thought her name was Kitty, probably short for something like Catherine if Finn would have had to guess.

She had shoulder length blonde hair and glasses, Finn also remembered hearing that she lived near where his late grandma used to live, six or seven doors down if he remembered correctly. Finn shook himself from his daze.

The score was tied, Finn was standing at the free throw line with no coverage. The ball was passed to him. Finn snatched the ball and popped it into the air. It was soaring through the air in a perfect arching path to the basket when coach Jim called the game off. Hooting and hollering until everyone in the entire court noticed him.

“Games over! Finn! Get over here!” Finn was about to protest about the unfortunate timing of the game’s ending when he saw a black man in an only slightly darker suit.

“Finn! Did I ask whether you wanted to obey?” Finn jogged across the court to the bleachers.

He was hot and felt like an aura of heat was radiating around him when the man in the suit said something about a car crash. Adrenaline was surging through his body and his ears didn't seem to be cooperating. He asked the suit to repeat what he had said; only to hear the same thing. Your father got into a car accident. Finn realized he had heard correctly the first time. But it wasn't the first part of the statement that hurt; it was the second. Your brother was also in the car.  

Finn didn't believe them at first. Instead, he thought that the whole thing was one big, elaborate prank. Johnny had pulled something like this two months ago, Finn still hadn't quite forgiven him.

“Is this like a test or something? ‘Cause I’m not going to be angry and react. I told you, Coach, I got my anger issues under control,”

“Finn, this ain’t no joke,” This was coach Jim, the perfect picture of a bald new yorker. Finn heaved something in the form of a desperate laugh. It sounded more like a snort, and if the mood was lighter, he would have been embarrassed to be seen making such a gesture. But right now, he didn't really care.   

“No, no, no, no, no… This is not happening,” Finn looked down at his Jordans, a terrible pain seemed to have gripped his stomach. “Zach’s dead?”

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Smith,” The man in the suit also had a bald head. He was black with a big nose and what Finn guessed was a powerfully muscled body. Finn looked at the man in the suit to coach Jim and back again. His eyes searching for something, anything, other than sincerity, which was exactly what he found.  

Finn felt nauseous. He broke away from the circle of teens that had formed around him and headed for the only exit that didn't have people crowding around it. Unfortunately, a few of the teens that didn't really know when to shut up began asking him questions as he made his way across the basketball court.   

“Whoa, what happened?”

“Bro, this guy is freaking out,”

“What's goin’ on bro?”

“Dude… what happened?” The prying eyes that belonged to faces Finn could no longer place seemed to pierce him until he finally had enough.  

“Leave me alone!” Finn yelled as he ran out of the basketball court and into Greencenter’s hallways, filled with their strange green lockers.  

He had passed the science room and was about to leave through the first set of glass doors when he was stopped by a formally dressed woman.

“Finn? My name is Ms. Hawk, I was a friend of your father’s,” The woman was in her early thirties or late twenties with blonde hair and piercing green eyes. A different kind of guy might have thought she looked astoundingly beautiful. Finn just thought she looked like some sort of animal poised for the kill. Finn didn't even think about stopping and talking to the woman. He pushed past the woman, ignoring her attempts to bring him back and opened the final glass door.

***

Finn was running down the sidewalk, his feet slapping the wet sidewalk in a rhythmic motion. Finn was 15, lived in Greencenter NYC, weighed one-hundred and sixty pounds and had the body of an athlete, and when he wanted, he could really run. That was what he was doing now. His brown-blonde hair now stuck to his forehead as he ran at what he guessed would be about seven and a half mph.

Running was his escape, how he could postpone problems long enough for God to help him figure them out.

Finn passed the sign for 14th street, signifying he was almost to the road that led straight past what used to be his Father’s house. Finn stopped running, instead, he stood on the sidewalk bent over, heaving ragged breaths. From this angle, Finn saw that he might as well not even be wearing a shirt, as everything underneath it was visible through the soaked, white tee shirt he wore. He didn't care, not now, not after Zach’s death.  

Finn stood there for about five minutes, trying to oxygenate his system, when he looked up, at least, a dozen microphones were shoved in his face. Lights flashed, cameras recorded, their red lights flashing to an unheard beat somewhere. Reporters with huge umbrellas tried to push their way to the front.

“Mr. Smith, how do expect the population to react to your father’s death?” That was one of the first questions Finn was able to isolate. It was nearly shouted by a red-haired girl that couldn't be more than twenty-one. Finn briefly appreciated the fact that the rain had slowed to a trickle; ten minutes before he would have had to shout to be heard over the sound of the rain making contact with the sidewalk.  

“I don't know, or care,” Finn immediately regretted answering that way. Somehow the sentence didn't seem right when it came out of his mouth. Maybe it was a little too snappy or mean. To be fair, the reporter was just doing her job; asking questions like these. She hadn't done anything against him personally. “...I mean, ...they won't take it as hard as I will,” Finn tried to leave, but he couldn't, he was surrounded on all sides by reporters and cameramen.  

“Mr. Smith, why do you think your father got into a car accident, was he being careless?” Finn was tired of the questions already, he stayed quiet.

“Mr. Smith! was your father an alcoholic?” Not that Finn knew of. He still stayed quiet.  

“There are rumors of you father being abusive, is that true?” The question had appeared out of the blue and it caught Finn off guard. It was true, but how did they even get an idea like that? Finn thought that billionaires were the last people that anyone would accuse of being abusive, even if they were dead. Finn still stayed silent.  

“Mr. Smith! why was your father’s body never found in the car wreck?” That one caught his attention. He looked earnestly at the source of the question. It was the same redhead reporter.

“...My Father’s body wasn't in the car wreck?”  

“No, the car imploded a few seconds after contact with the light pole. Your brother’s body is still being assessed but we only found but only a few scraps of your father’s DNA, along with his tie.” That confirmed what Finn thought, most likely his father’s corpse had just been incinerated by the explosion of the crash. Finn’s head began to swim; it felt like it was about to explode.  

“Mr. Smith, how do you feel about inheriting your father’s vast amounts of wealth. Happy?” This was a gray-haired man in his late forties. Finn did not like the approach this man was using. To be truthful, Finn hadn’t thought about his inheritance, he didn't care. He never cared about money, even though he probably had more money in his sock drawer than some people ever see in their life. “To make things better, the only other known family member is your sister, how would you feel if you were the only one to inherit the money?”

“What are you getting at?” Finn’s expression, just a moment ago, holding obvious signs of confusion and boredom, now harbored angry expressions and eyes that locked onto his interviewer like a cornered animal about to strike back.  

“Exactly what I said, Mr. Smith. Would you feel any better if you were the only member left in your family?” The muscles on Finn's forearms and biceps seemed to tighten up, his fist clenched and unclenched. He ground his teeth together in an attempt to keep a nasty insult from leaving his mouth.  

Finn looked at his wet Jordans, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with the man who seemed intent on making Finn react in anger. Colossians 4:8, But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Finn remembered his sister's memory verse for the week and since Finn couldn't imagine opening his mouth and anything good coming out of it, he made his getaway, forcing his way through the reporters and accidentally knocking over those that stepped in his way. As soon as he broke free, he started running and didn't stop to look back.  

***

The knock on the door a bit more than a simple knock. It was more of a pound. Demanding someone come to the door.  

Finn stood on the high-quality welcome mat in the entry to the house he presumably owned now. A girl barely 12 stood on her tiptoes to peek out the tiny peep-hole in the middle of their door. Finn had to wait almost a minute for his sister to unlock the various locks and chains that she insisted on having installed on their already secure door. Once she accomplished that, she swung the infinitely larger door open, a surprised look on her face.

“Finn? why are you home early? ...Why are you soaking wet?” Cassie was a tiny figure, barely 80 pounds with predominantly blonde hair and bangs with green-fading-into-blue eyes that stared anxiously into her brother’s similarly colored eyes.  

“...Zach’s ...dead,” Finn watched the expression on Cassie’s face turn from fright and confusion, to realization, to terror. Zach was the one that would be the most painful for Cassie to live without. Their Father was always either abusive or gone on “business” trips. They hardly ever even saw him. But Zach, that was the one person that was always there for the both of them. For Finn, he was a near perfect role-model and childhood hero, for Cassie, he was her protector and friend. The one Cassie always got up to see if she had a nightmare, which she often did. Finn loved his brother dearly, but not as much as Cassie did.

Tears welled up in her eyes. The sounds of her breathing were now replaced by ragged gasps as she began to shake.

Finn stepped into the house, closed the door and took off his wet shirt all in the same motion. Throwing the shirt in a heap beside the door, Finn stooped down just a little, pulling her into a hug and letting her cry into his shoulder. This was when the full realization came to Finn too, all of the things that Finn did with him. All the times they won't ever have again. Skydiving, surfing, skateboarding, sports. They were all gone and with them the person who Finn looked up to and adored.  

Little bro, the time has come for you to do things on your own now. All the things I used to do? You gotta’ do ‘em now. You got that? Finn could have sworn he had had that talk with Zach before. But now it seemed like it became a reality. Zach had often gone on “business” trips with their father before, and Finn and Cassie were left on their own for long periods of time. But now, there was no one to look forward to seeing come home, ever. They were alone. Finn, sensing that Cassie was having trouble standing, gently picked her up and carried her to the living room where he sat down on the couch that dominated the majority of space in the comfortable room. Cassie was still crying, but with a little less intensity. Finn could see a tea party set up in the corner of the room, the stuffed animals all lined up with their plastic cups and cupcakes that Cassie made laid out on each animal’s plate.  

After about ten minutes of whispering comforting words to Cassie. She had almost stopped crying. Cradled in Finn’s strong arms.  

It was the day that Zach was supposed to come home, and Cassie had set up a welcome banner in front of the door with glitter and other “crafty” things on it, but that wasn't what was out of the ordinary. Along with the cupcakes she baked for her stuffed animals, Cassie had also baked a cake covered in pink frosting, sitting on the counter of the kitchen in clear sight. That was when Finn realized something terrible. It was Cassie’s birthday. Finn felt a pang of dread and sorrow for his poor sister. She had made preparation for her own birthday party only to find that the person she loved in life dearest had just died. Finn knew he could never take the place of his brother, but he decided to give it a go.  

Cassie had stopped crying, but she was still sniffing and hugging Finn even tighter, clinging on to him like her life depended on it. Finn had to wait almost ten minutes for her grip to lessen and as soon as it did, Finn tried to lighten the mood, if only a little.

“Mmm, I’m really hungry, and I kinda feel like a ‘Spot-a-tea.’” Cassie, taking this as her cue, nearly leaped off of Finn and went into the kitchen to warm up some tea that she apparently had recently finished making. Finn, hoping he had enough time, raced up the terraced staircase, ran down a hall and into his messy bedroom, picked up the first dry shirt he came to, a red one with the symbol of American Eagle on it, and raced downstairs, slipping the shirt over head and shoulders as he leaped halfway up the staircase to the ground. His jordans were still wet, but they still kept him from slipping as he made contact. Finn then went to the living room and sat down on a chair that was three times to small for him. When Finn looked down at the plate that sat in front of him he noticed a paper that was folded so it stood by itself on the plate. In Cassie’s incredibly artistic handwriting, it said: Reserved for Zach, My Hero. Finn moved the paper over to the next place down, putting it in front of a stuffed elephant in a suit and bowler hat. Finn looked up just as Cassie came into the room, elegantly gliding, would be the best word for it, across the room with a tray of real tea cups with real tea in them. Finn could tell by her expression that she was still incredibly downcast. It was remarkable she could function enough to do her “duty” and fetch tea and cupcakes for him. Finn was determined to take her mind off of that, at least, as long as his plan worked.

***  

Ten minutes later, Finn came strolling back into the living room in a full suit and tie, his hair in perfect condition, shiny black shoes and all. Shortly after, Cassie came into the room in a frilly blue and white dress and pigtails that made her look like a doll herself.  

Finn sat in the same chair again, trying not to appear uncomfortable in the tiny chair made for a 12-inch doll. Cassie sat down as well. Both of the siblings then began pretending to be at a fancy tea party. Finn was about to reach across the table for the cupcakes when he remembered his manners and pulled his white gloved hand back, cleared his throat, and asked for the cupcakes to be passed. Cassie passed the cupcakes to Finn, not quite sure whether to start crying again. Finn saw his plan wasn't working, so he amped things up by taking a ginormous bite of the cupcake, “accidentally” smearing the frosting all over his face and lips. Cassie looked at him, first in horror, then in slight amusement as Finn asked what she was looking at.  

“You have frosting on your face silly!” Finn responded without chewing all the way.  

“Where? mmmphm, is it on my cheek?” Finn pointed to the one place on his face that wasn't completely covered in frosting. Which made Cassie smile a little.  

Finn saw that his plan was working, so he took another enormous bite of cupcake, engulfing the entire thing in his mouth. Finn looked at the elephant in the bowler hat next to him.  

“What is she talking about, do you see anything?” Finn leaned in close to the elephant, looking directly at him as he asked the question, searching the glass eyes of the curious animal.  

“Of course, I do Finn! You must be the lousiest tea party attendant I’ve ever seen!” Finn leaned even farther in and talked for the stuffed animal. Then after he delivered the insult to himself, he gave a ghastly sound and made it seem like he was incredibly insulted. This finally started Cassie giggling out right. Finn’s plan had worked.  

***

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP the sound echoed in the huge house. When Cassie heard it, she practically dived for cover behind the couch. This scared Finn out of his mind and made him jump in his seat, only to hit his knees on the tiny table overturning it.

A second later, Finn looked in horror at the mess he made. Shortly after he looked to see what was the cause of this untimely interruption. It the mailman. Finn thought about asking Cassie why she jumped, but she could tell from the expression on her face. The expression a child has when they think they are about to be beaten.  

Finn, wiping any frosting that was left on his face off with his sleeve walked over to the door and opened it, accepting the small size box that the good-natured mailman handed him. He was a jolly man in his fifties with a smile that seemed to be contagious. Finn had known him since he was 10 years old. When he had taken the box he stepped over his still soaked jordans and walked across a small area in front of the stairs and through a hallway into the kitchen. Noting that his sister was cleaning up his mess in the living room. Finn set the box down on the counter and opened the box with his pocket knife. The box contained one thing, a small note. Finn took the single piece of paper in his hands. It read: Apartment room 155, remember grandma? Four doors to the left of where she lived before she died. Bring your clothes and Cassie, don't tell anyone.  Finn looked at the paper in curiosity. The note had to be from Zach, Finn could tell from the handwriting. Zach must have sent the package before he died, was it a coincidence? Must be. Finn set the box down and slid the knife back into his pocket.  

“Hey Cassie, start packing your clothes,”