Chp.13

I knock on the door, harder than I intended to, panting because of the run I had. After everything that's happening today, I really want to find out what happened. How did my parents not realize that they left me alone for the whole night? Was there something wrong with their time? Or did they just forget how late they were? Which is impossible. Because they should know what bloody time they should come back! And the way Mom acted. So… normal. Like nothing happened at all. Like I wasn't scared as shit that something happened to them. Like I didn't run in the pouring rain until Rickson found me.

But what itched at me the most was the fact that someone was there with me. In my house. Someone who packed up your room, Jesse. Someone who acted like me. Probably looked like me. Because how else would me parents fall for him. Was he the same person who killed you? Killed all of you? This person… who somehow fainted me. Why would he do all that? Why would he want to go through all that trouble just so he could box your room and pretended to be me? I'm not even sure if he's a he. Could be a girl, right? Could be Skylar. But am I only thinking this intruder has a possibility of being a girl so Skylar could be one of the suspects? The guilty? Maybe… But I'll refer this person as a he for now. Till I actually know who did all this.

Whoever it was – it is – he's still out there. With your diary. With the book. With your beanie. And since he packed your stuff, he probably has every single clue that leads to what happened that night.

My fists clench at that. As if balls of fire will slip out of them if I let go. I was so close. I was almost there. The answer was so close to me that I could have grasp it. But this happened. Just when everything was going perfect. The way I wanted it to go. It had to happen when I was so ruddy close! Shit, shit, shit! It's like the whole world is against me. Laughing at how I'm such a loser. Can't even solve a bloody murder… they're probably saying.

My knuckles white, hands shaking, I raise one fist to pound at the door again when there's a slight click as if someone's unlocking it, before a crack like slot appears in the door. Brown eyes looking directly at me.

"It's uh… Lukas. Lukas Wells." I say, and I'm shocked how my voice came out as a croak, "I came here to talk to Rickson. If he's here."

The slot closes. I expect a sudden burst of the door but instead it opens slowly, revealing the brown-eyed person. It's Rickson. But not how he usually is. His blonde hair messed up, like he was tired and didn't sleep for days. He isn't even wearing a proper suit like he always does, just a plain creased white shirt. He rubs at his eyes, and yawns.

I control the contagious, involuntary breath of air, myself, my teeth pressed together tightly, as he speaks up,

"Lukas?" His voice mixed with weariness and confusion, "Didn't recognize you without your hat." That hit the mark, "Anyway, what are you doing out here this early?"

I know that if I want to get my answers, I have to play smart. And the way Rickson is looking at me, it's like he didn't expect me to come after what happened yesterday. Unless somehow he has been brainwashed like my parents and he's just confused about me ever coming to his house without a reason.

I shake my head, "That's not important."

Rickson frowns, skeptical, "Oh?"

"I just wanted to ask you something, that's all." I explain, impatiently.

"And what's that?" The wary grimace doesn't leave his face.

"What happened last night?" I let it all go in one breath, "I mean what did you do yesterday?"

"Umm…" He hesitates, "And why do you want to –?"

"It's for a school project." I curse myself for interrupting so quickly. I can't get less suspicious.

"What's a school project got to do with me?" The way he's asking me all these questions, I'm not surprised. He is a Detective Sergeant, after all.

"We need to do a project on town heroes. And who else could I have thought of except for you?" I give a tight, unwilling smile, putting forced emphasis on each word of the last question.

He raises his eyebrows but I can't tell if he's convinced or not.

"What about DI Williams?" He asks.

I sigh, rolling my eyes, "I don't think I'll count a fat man who sits in an air-conditioned office and does nothing but eat as a town hero."

He lets out a 'humph' as if considering this. I feel my skin hot when he narrows his eyes at me.

"What about Skylar?" He says, "Isn't she a town hero?"

This is a test. He's testing my reaction.

I take a deep breath, saying calmly, "Skylar isn't a hero."

"She is for the town." He pushes.

"But she isn't for me is she?" I fume, "I'm supposed to write on who I think is a town hero. And for me, Skylar is nothing but a pathetic liar which you guys clearly can't see. Anyway let's just get on with it?"

He gives me a long stare, then, finally nods.

I give a wide – probably obnoxious – smile, "Great. Now tell me. What happened yesterday?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Just tell me!" I shout, losing control over my anger.

He looks taken aback, stunned. But I'm done being nice. He has to answer me. How else will I know what happened?

"Come on!" I yell. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you not saying anything? It's a simple question. What. Happened. Yesterday?"

"Lukas," He raises the palm of his hands, "Stop freaking out on me and calm yourself." His tone isn't tired anymore. It's stern. It's a warning. It's…prepared. I ignore it.

"What happened yesterday night? Was I with you? It was raining, right? You took me home and there was an investigation? And Williams was there but my parents weren't. And you sent your crew to look for them. They couldn't find them. Then how the hell did they return? And why are they acting like nothing happened. Why are you acting like nothing happened? Just tell me already! I can't take this! I was so close and now this happened and everyone thinks I'm crazy!"

I'm losing it. This stress is eating me away. It's gnawing and gnawing at me so much that I think I won't survive for long. No one believes me. I'm starting to doubt myself as well. Is this real? Had I been dreaming?

My heart's thudding like crazy. As if it'll explode right out of my chest.

"Okay…" Rickson finally breaks the silence, "What in the world are you talking about? None of that happened yesterday, Lukas. I think it's all in your head."

Maybe he's right. Maybe it did happen in my head. But it was just so real. I felt it.

"If you want to know that bad," Rickson folds his arms, "I didn't go anywhere yesterday. I was sick. Still am."

I run my hands through my hair, swallowing a huge lump in my throat, staring down at the crack on the driveway. I don't understand… He was there. Rickson was with me. Mom and Dad didn't come back home and there was someone in my house.

This is messed up shit.

A part of me keeps telling me to forget all this. That it's for the best. My parents came back right? And I'm in one piece. Everything is how it's supposed to be. I'm not being taken to any weird orphanage. But how the hell did this happen? How the bloody hell is this possible?

The old me would accept it. Accept that I should give up. Because it won't hurt me to, would it? If I do give up then I won't be a psychopath who everyone will avoid. Obviously no one is going to believe me. I'm having a hard time believing this, myself.

And I feel like I want to give up so bad. But you keep on blocking that gate for me. All my proof is gone. Your diary, that without-author book is gone –and I have no idea how you got it in the first place. You wrote warnings even when you folded those pages. It doesn't make sense. You don't make sense to me anymore, Jesse. Is my mind playing tricks on me or are you becoming even more harder to reach?

"Anything else I can do for you, Lukas?" Rickson asks, trying to study me.

"No…" I reply, my voice nothing more than a whisper. "I'll leave you to whatever you were doing."

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Do I look like I care?" I snap. Even with my heart sinking, I couldn't help heckling at him.

Rickson shrugs, clearly perplexed.

I sigh, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Sorry for… confusing you."

"Umm… Sure."

He nods at me, expecting the conversation to end. He seems eager about it.

I give him one long look of hope. Maybe he'll change his mind. Maybe he'll say something like: "Lukas, wait. I wasn't being totally honest with you. You're not crazy and everything that happened was true. And blah, blah, blah." Something like that.

But he doesn't say anything. I only feel his stare at me as I slowly leave.

My eyes are wet. Either because of the blinding sun. Or because I knew I-

A loud shattering scream pierces my ears. I turn back towards Rickson. He's as frozen as I am. It came from inside his house. He's the first to act, running inside. I follow him. Because what if he needs help? As much as I hate him, I'll loath myself for not going after him to assist him.

I run past the kitchen and in the living room, on Rickson's heels. The scream only happened once. But it was painful enough to scare the ones who heard it. I almost bump into Rickson because of him stopping so suddenly. I look over his shoulder to see Amy, his wife, standing in front of a wall, her hands covering her mouth. I notice something unusual on the wall. The smell forced my focus towards it.

I stare with wide eyes at… words. Painted on the wall, completely ruining the wallpaper. Black, gooey paint dripped down and I realize that whoever did it, done it a little while ago.

Rickson, obviously in horror, kept staring at it. I look at Amy but she's just looking at Rickson, as if he'll be the one to explain this.

I shiver in the cold, despite the hot weather. I still don't read what's written on it. For some reason, I'm hesitating.

I finally gather my guts and look at it. Only three words. But those three words are the most dreading thing I read in my whole life:

You lost, Lukas.

My face falls when I read it. Again and again. My face falls even more when I see Rickson staring at me with bloodshot eyes. The first time I ever have seen him angry. He glares at me furiously.

"I didn't do it!" I say for what feels like the hundredth time, "I swear I didn't do this! How can I do this when I was with you this whole time? I-"

"Will you be quiet for once?" Rickson snaps at me.

And I nod, swallowing. Listening to him for once. He walks closer to the wall, putting his hands on his hips. I could sense the frustration with his stance. What bothers me more is the way he whispers something in his wife's ear. And the way she gives me a hard stare before leaving makes me fidget.

"This is serious." Rickson mutters. I'm not sure if he's talking to me or not. "Sorry to say this, Lukas, but I'm taking you with me to the police station."