Chapter 8
Eric and I were both awakened early one Sunday morning by the sound of someone ringing my front doorbell.
“Someone’s at your front door.”
“I know.”
“Were you expecting company?”
“No.”
“I wonder who it is.”
“You could go downstairs and find out.”
“This is your house. Shouldn’t you be the one to answer the door?”
Before I could respond, Eric and I heard the front door open and someone enter the house. We both sat up.
“Patrick!” I heard a familiar voice call from downstairs.
“f**k,” I cursed, climbing out of bed.
“Who is that?” Eric asked.
“My mother.”
I threw on some clothes and went downstairs. I found my mother in the living room, standing beside a huge rolling suitcase.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” I asked as I watched her stuff her keys into her purse.
“Honey
