Chp.10

I wake up, hearing sound of thunder and rain, rubbing my wet eyes. I feel my hair damp with sweat because of the beanie. I sigh, realizing it was 12:47. In the night. I think I slept longer than expected. I stretch myself, not looking at your diary. Because I'm not going to listen to you, Jesse. You wouldn't have listened to me either. You would have wanted to find out the truth even more. Like me, right now.

The clock ticks away. I realize Mom and Dad are already here. Mom will be disappointed when she finds me here without even getting started on packing your stuff. But I'll make it up to her. I take a long, cracking breath before going downstairs.

I go to the living room. But no one's there. Of course no one was. Because it's the middle of the night. They're probably tired and went to bed.

I run back upstairs, gently rapping my knuckles on the door. When I don't get any answer, I open it slowly and quietly, imagining them asleep. It's weird how they didn't even check if I was dead somewhere or alive. I snigger at my own joke, squinting in the dark. But I don't hear any soft breathing. I don't hear anything, at all, in fact.

"Mom?" I whisper, "You guys there?"

As if it's a reflex, I switch on the lights. And no one's there.

My breath shallow, I check if the time I read in your room was right. 12:58.

Oh god. Where are they? I run to the kitchen, my head as dizzy as it had been before. The tablets clearly didn't work. I enter the room. But they aren't there.

"Mom!" I yell out, "Dad! Are you guys here?"

But I don't get any answer. Just the mockery of the solitude.

I'm not scared though. Because they probably got stuck in traffic. For five extra hours? What if something happened to them? What if-?

"Shut up." I hiss at myself, picking up my phone to call them.

Shit. Shit.

It's dead. My ruddy phone isn't charged.

How could I forget to charge my phone? How could I forget the most important thing in a teen's life? I throw it on the floor in frustration. I race to the telephone, dialing Mom's number.

The ring is dead. No one's picking up. I dial the number again. And again. I keep on dialing until my fingers start to hurt.

They aren't here. They aren't picking up my calls. And I don't know what to do. I run back upstairs, to your room, and grab that diary. For comfort. But I stop in front of my room, before going downstairs, frowning. Because the window is open. I didn't open the window. My heart is thudding and I can hear the adrenaline running in my body.

I slowly walk to it. A..paper. I feel the note in my pocket. And the paper was way bigger then Mom's message. But that handwriting. It was ugly. It was like an infant wrote it with his toes. Or something. And it's taped on the window. I take it off, the blood draining from my face.

You'll get them back if you win the game, Lukas.

That's all what it says. Game. Jesse mentioned game in her letter. And so... so did the note. I take it out, my body shivering as I place it next to the new note. Game. What game? That's all the notes bloody say. Game.

I don't want to bloody play or win any game.

Jesse, I think I found your letter way after. Because I think, all this time, I've already been in the game.

"No, no, no." I shake my head vigorously, laughing nervously mixed with a little hysteria, "I'll just wait for them. Just wait for them to come back."

But I'm backing away. I'm backing away from the notes. I'm backing away and I feel like I'll throw up nothing but burning acids. Where are they? What happened to them?

I should get help. I should get help. I need to get help.

I run down the stairs, not bothering to wear my jacket, just locking the front door and running in the rain, lightening everywhere, but I keep on running because I don't know what's happening, where they are? I wish you were here right now, so I wouldn't be freaking out. Water has soaked my beanie, so I take it off, clutching it in my hands.

I slip and fall in the furious storm, the drops splattering on my face, cold as ever. Swearing at myself, I get up, ignoring my scabbed knees, running towards...

Wait... where am I going?

No one's going to help me. They wouldn't want the killer's brother in their house in the middle of the night. My body's shivering with the cold and my clothes are wet and heavy. Hair sticking on my forehead, my skin on fire. I'm breathing but I feel like my lungs are filled with water.

What am I going to do?

The only person I can think of is Mr. Walker. But I'll be damned. I don't know where he lives. Shit.

I hear a car behind me, so I scamper to the side in the rain, still trembling and shivering and my head hurts and my breathing is so shallow and my vision keeps on blurring and I bloody hate this. I hate it all. And I just want to give up and step in front of the car speeding at me.

My legs feeling like jelly, I fall on the ground, curling up my knees to my chest, rain falling, chattering my teeth. I watch the car slow down. But I barely care because I don't know what to do.

Shockingly, the car stops right next to me. The window opens and I hear a voice. A familiar voice. But not the one I want to hear.

"Lukas?" DS Rickson said, surprised.

I look up but I couldn't see him all that properly, still hugging my knees and shivering. The DS gets off the car, running to me. But I don't understand anything, feeling lost and sicker than ever.

Remember that time when we went to that fair? And we went to that roller coaster, you dragging me with you even though I was underage back then? And you promised me ice-cream if I do. That's how we ended up taking a picture of us eating it together. But now it's ripped. And you aren't in it with me. And I'm sorry - I'm sorry - about everything that happened to you Jesse.

I should have died instead. I should have been the one to have gotten stabbed. Not you.

DS Rickson grabs my shoulder and shakes me hard, forcing me back to my senses. I blink, staring at him and I see his blonde hair dripping but nothing compared to how I soaked I am. The clouds thunder above us, as he lifts me to my feet but I'm mostly leaning into him for support. He drags me in his car, ignoring the fact about how I'll soak it. He wraps me with his long coat but I'm still shivering.

He sits back in his driving seat and closes the door. The sound of thunder and rain disappearing behind it. He looks at me, expecting me to talk. But I'm trembling, and I feel like I'm dead because the fever's going inside my brain or something.

"Had a hard day and this is how it ends?" He says, more to himself than me, "A teenager who looks like he's seen a ghost, running in the rain."

He lets out a chuckle of disbelief.

I'm chattering my teeth, trying to sink my freezing body in the grey coat. Rickson notices, turning on the heater.

"What are you doing out here, Lukas?" He finally asks. I unwillingly look at him, seeing how pale my face is but at the same time my nose is red, through the window's reflection.

"D-drive." I mutter.

He frowns, "Sure. I'll drive you home."

I shake my head, stuttering, "No. Y-you don't un-understand. I-I can't g-go home."

"Then where do you want to go?" Rickson tilts his head, slightly.

Away from here. Away from him. I just want to go to you.

And he touches my forehead with the back of his hand, trying to read my temperature. I don't let him for long, turning my head away from him.

"You're sick." He says, plainly.

I don't say anything. Just feeling the car growing warm, vibrating under me.

"Lukas, if you don't tell me what's going on-"

"They're not here..." I whisper.

"What?"

"They're not h-here." I repeat, louder but hoarse.

"Who's not here?" The DS raises his eyebrows.

"My p-parents." I look at him helplessly, "I don't know where they are. They said they'll come by seven. But it's not seven at all. It's the middle of the night and they're not here even when they're supposed to-"

"Okay, okay," He raises both of his hands, "Calm down, alright?"

I nod, thinly, chewing at my lips.

Rickson takes out his notepad in an all professional way. "When did they leave?"

"Six in the morning."

He scowls, "That's a long way, don't you think? Are you sure they said they'll come in the-"

"I know what I'm saying." I snap.

He stares at me, unconvinced. But writes it down anyway.

"Where were they going?"

"A…A town. To visit."

"Why's that?"

"That will be our business, now, wouldn't it?" I hiss. But he helped me. And he deserves to know that much. I sigh, "They were searching for a new house."

He nods, grateful that I answered despite my stubbornness.

"And where were you going?" He asks but this isn't for whatever he's writing.

"I..." I'm hesitant, "I don't know what I was doing."

He gives me a long stare before saying, "Don't worry, we'll get your parents back."

He puts the car on drive, pressing the accelerator. I have my beanie in my hands, watching your initials, wondering how you got arrested once for graffiti or something. Was this how it felt to you when you were sitting with an officer? Nervous? Because that's how I feel like. That I shouldn't have told Rickson anything. I press my fingers on it, water drooling out when I do. The only thing in my possession right now. But I suddenly remember the diary in my pocket. I sigh, because it's probably soaking wet. I don't fish it out in front of DS Rickson.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask.

"Where do you think?" He mutters, turning round a corner, "We're going to the hospital. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?"

"No, no." I protest, "We can't go there. Why can't we go to the police station instead?"

"Oh, we aren't going there, I'm calling my crew home." He assures. "The place is flooded with water anyway. Right after you get checked up. That way, it'll be easier to answer them."

"But-"

"I know what I'm doing, Lukas," He says, "Trust me."

The rain patters down at the window, as I snuggle in the warm seat and thick coat.

"Where am I going to stay overnight?" I ask, wondering if I'll have to go back home. Because I don't want to go back there. I don't want to go there ever.

He shrugs, "You'll do in my place. Amy won't mind, I'm sure."

"Who's Amy?" I grimace.

"My wife." He says, a-matter-of-factly.

"But I can't stay with you." I say, quietly.

"Why's that?" He inquires, "You know someone else willing to take you in for the night? Because I highly doubt that."

And I know what he means by that. No one can stand me walking freely in the town, how will they let me stay even for an hour?

He keeps on driving in the dark rain as I stare out of the window.

"I hope you don't take this case carelessly just because you think that I'm a killer's brother. Which, for side note, I'm not."

He sighs, "You have my word."

"Oh, like last time?" I scoff.

"Last time, I didn't have an option." He mutters.

I turn back at him, "What does that mean?"

"It means... that we're here." He points at the clinic, not finishing what he meant, "Come on." He takes off his seatbelt and parks the car. He steps out, the rain lighter than before. I get out as well, the beanie still in my hands. Because I don't want to let go off that. I'm still frowning at what he said but he's way ahead of me. So, I catch up to him, despite how the world's spinning around, saying,

"Please find them."

He stares at me again, "I'll do my best."

And I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.