Possessed Soul

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Now I knew that the stories about heartbreak were true. It felt like someone had stuck their hand into my chest and pulled my heart out, leaving me with a big gaping hole.

"She's gone," I said to myself, and pushed my hands further into my pockets. We had split up: Aaron, Flynn and I. Aaron had gone left, I had gone right, and Flynn stayed at the house in case she came back. It hadn't occurred to me that if she did go back to the house, Flynn wouldn't be able to contact me, as I didn't have a phone. I swore with very colourful language and saw a middle-aged woman, with a too big umbrella, give me an evil look. She blocked her toddler's ears and shuffled past me, quicker than I thought was possible. I ignored the paranoid mother and concentrated on more pressing matters.

What should I do when I find her? If I find her? I could declare my undying love for her, but I had already tried that. It was clear it hadn't worked at all. She knew I loved her; my love wasn't the problem. The problem was the monster she thought was inside of her.

"I need her," I whispered to the sky.

She could be in danger, I reminded myself and picked up my pace, worried that the FBI would reach her before I did. I had been walking for hours: the sky had darkened to a navy blue and the sun had already started its descent. If you haven't found her yet you're not going to, the little voice at the back of my head told me. She's left you and she's not coming back, accept it and go back to Gina.

"Noooo!" I roared, gaining the unwanted attention of a few pedestrians. Why the hell were people walking the streets this late in the afternoon? "What?" I yelled at them. "Have you never seen a furious boy before?" I should have used the word man instead of boy. I could hardly be called a boy, but I felt like a boy: helpless and vulnerable, unable to find the girl I loved.

In a moment of fury I slammed my hand, knuckles first, into a streetlamp. Pain jarred my senses and numbed the feeling of heartbreak, even if it was by just a small fraction.

"Kaden Blythe?" The voice was soft, but the familiarity was disturbing. I prayed to whichever God was listening that it wasn't who I thought it was. This was one thing I couldn't deal with right now. "Do you remember me?" he asked, moving in front of me.

How could I forget? How could I forget the man who whipped me until my skin split? How could I forget the way he cornered me and threw punches until my lips were swollen, and my eyes were surrounded by purple circles. He was the true demon of this century; the owner of the Orphan Asylum.

"You do remember me." Mr Frits continued after analysing the look on my face. His face was square shaped, but it was soft around the edges, lacking any definition. His hair was a light yellow and it somehow made his skin look slightly yellow as well. "What happened to you?" He raised an eyebrow at my appearance and scrunched his nose, either in confusion or disgust; not that I cared what was going through his twisted mind.

"What do you mean?" I carried on walking at such a fast pace, that he had to jog to keep up with me. "I'm a lot healthier than the last time you saw me."

"Besides your hand."

I looked down at my hand. It was no surprise that each finger had a line of blood running down the middle of it. "What the fuck do you want?" I stopped short and faced him. He had no leverage over me anymore. I was no doubt stronger than him. I was no longer the boy he had once bullied.

"You're looking for someone?" he questioned, making me wonder why he actually cared.

"No," I lied, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice.

"Right." He pressed his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose. "All I'm saying is maybe I can help you. I know most people who live in this neighbourhood."

Why would I ever accept help from you? "She doesn't live here." I replied.

"Ah. It's a she then." Mr Frits' mouth quirked up at the corners. "Should have known you'd lose your wits over a girl. You were always weak and damaged; no wonder she left you. She must have been pretty stupid to want anything to do with you in the first place. You wreck everything."

I knew he wanted some reaction out of me, and I didn't disappoint him. Mr Frits staggered backwards as my fist made contact with his face. Blood ran down his face, and I wasn't sure if it was his blood or mine. I almost felt bad for hitting a pudgy, old man, but he deserved it. Not only for what he had done to me, but for what he had done to other children and what he no doubt still continued to do. "Go to hell," I spat at him and just as I turned my back to him, I saw a flash of fiery red hair.

***

She ignored me when I called out to her. I was at the point now where I was going to grab her hard and force her to listen to me. "I know it's you," I shouted, over the roar of the traffic. "You stand out with your red hair."

She froze suddenly, as if she had just realised I was behind her. She slowly spun around, giving me a chance to scrutinize her. Her hair was tightly plaited into a French braid and was tied at the end with a red ribbon. She wore a black leather skirt, with knee high boots. When had she had time to change? And that outfit looked like something Gina, or even Emma would wear, not Sage.

I started walking towards her with a frown fixed on my face. She had stopped turning, just short of allowing me to see her face; like she couldn't decide whether or not she should look at me. I was just a couple of steps away from her, when a shiny, silver sedan whizzed by and rammed into her.

She rolled onto the hood of the car, before her body fell off it and onto the tarred road. A pool of crimson blood began to from below her head. It looked like an extension of her red hair, but it was flowing through all the tracks of the road and settled in big clumps everywhere.

I screamed. It was an unnerving sound, one that I couldn't ever remember making before. It felt out of place coming out of my mouth, like nobody would ever expect a scream like that to be from someone like me. I was more scared than I'd ever been in my life. The fear built up and settled at the bottom of my stomach. It felt like all my fears were being stacked on top of one another, like Lego blocks.

My body couldn't function, so my knees gave way under me. I fell, allowing the loose pieces of gravel to embed themselves in my jeans and poke my skin underneath. Why had I called out to her? Why had I forced her to look my way when she was crossing a busy road?

I didn't bother walking up to her. All I could see was the blood. I didn't want to look at her face, even if she was still alive. I could just envision the flickering spark in her hazel eyes go out, and my heart would be engulfed with darkness; refusing to allow me to ever feel anything again. No! I couldn't go up to her, I couldn't hold her as she died. Plus, she wouldn't want my face to be the last thing she saw; she had run away from me. It would be better for both of us if I stayed where I was.

"My daughter," a woman exclaimed, running towards Sage. The woman had long red hair that fell past her waist. That couldn't be right. I had seen Sage's mother, and this definitely wasn't the woman whose house I had broken into.

Curiosity shocked my legs into working again. Hope was what drove me, as I moved towards the mother cradling her child's head in her lap. The girl's eyelids were tinged purple and her cheeks were rosy and freckled. This wasn't Sage, I realised, taking in the limp form in front of me. Sage was slender and her face was paler, much paler. My heart started beating at a rapid pace again, in a way that couldn't be healthy. I was relieved and guilty at the same time. This girl was dead, and it was my fault.

I shed a few tears with the mother, knowing the feeling of losing someone you loved all too well. I could almost hear Mr Frits' mocking voice in my head: You wreck everything.