Beyond The Lost

5

I spent the next couple days in and out of the library, searching for some kind of understanding. An explanation. I firmly believe that anything can be explained if you search long enough. Yet, it had somehow turned into a week and I still had no truth to back up the suspicion that this had anything to do with his family history. 

I was becoming frustrated, my hopes sinking into my gut as I walked to the front of the library. "Excuse me." I tapped on the main desk and eyed the woman sitting there. "Do you have anything on Hullan?"

"Are you looking for books or newspapers?"

"Newspaper."

"Follow me." She led me toward the back end of the library, where newspapers had been stacked in boxes. "Hullan would be the eighth box."

I went through the box of different cut-out articles until I found what I was looking for. My heart sunk.

"Ma'am." The librarian stopped for a moment. "You best stay clear of that boy. Their people don't take too kindly to your own."

"Pardon?"

"The boy you follow around town."

"I-" my words stuck in my throat, holding into my tongue. "I was only helping him."

"Don't corrupt your beliefs for the sake of others. Especially Hullan." She left back to her desk and I sat down to read the articles I'd found. I managed to grab seven articles alone that mentioned the name Hullan.

HULLAN HOUSE FIRE

HULLAN STRIKES AGAIN

HULLAN RELEASED FROM CAPTIVITY

I stared closely at the articles, discovering something I'm sure Victor already knew.

His father, the priest, had formed what the press decided was a cult. He burned down an orphanage and his neighbors home, only to be released from prison two years later. He used that freedom to murder and rape the children of the town. He was beaten to death by a father of two boys and three girls on October 11th, in 1932. The man who caused his death left him hanging in the church with a sign around his neck. That sign stated three things; His crimes, his occupation, and his last name.

I live in a small town. Not much happens here, so why hadn't I heard about this? It happened ten years ago, but Victor hadn't even mentioned it. Why?

I brought the articles to Victor at sundown, but he dismissed them entirely. "This isn't important. It's useless information. What's happening to me has nothing to do with any of this."

I stared at him, watching his defenses rise as his eyes fell dark. "You might not think so, but I do. If he caused as much harm as he did, it's likely those spirits are angry or in pain. When your father died and they couldn't harm him, they thought that the next best thing to do was take it out on his son."

"Nonsense." He continued to scribble on a sheet of paper, his head buried into his work. I could tell he'd been drinking. We sat in the bar silently for a while before I spoke again.

"I need you to listen to me if you want my help."

"Do something useful if you want me to listen to you. Gathering information about my father isn't going to help and I'd rather you didn't know what you do now."

His umbrella rests against his lap, wrapped up tightly to ward off bad luck. I carefully set down the articles I'd found and slid his drink over to me. Stealing his liquor seemed to bother him, causing him to finally make eye contact with me. "I'm trying my best to help you. Watch your tone, I'm not here to judge you."

"How is knowing this information going to help me?"

"How is your attitude going to help either of us?" I shot back, annoyed. "What's your problem?"

"I shouldn't even be speaking to you!" He whispered, slamming his fist down on the counter to show his own irritation. "Do you have any idea how many people have reported me in town today?" He speaks with his head low, hair covering his eyes.

"Reported you for what? If you got in trouble that's not my fault." I watched him shuffle in his seat, watching another table from the corner of his eye.

"Forget it. You shouldn't help me anymore." He left the booth and headed out of the bar, wobbling a bit as he went. I made no move to follow him, but grabbed the papers he'd left behind.

I assumed he was working, but it appears I was wrong.

The sheet of paper I'm looking at is covered with writing that I can't read. It seems as if he was writing a letter to someone, but the ink had been smeared multiple times. Like he got frustrated. Any words could read were misspelled.

I smiled, tracing my fingers over wet ink as the front entrance swung open. A brush of cold winter air flew through my hair after the door closed, reminding me of my chilling walk home.

"Where is he?" A striking voice disrupted my thoughts, heavy boots marching into the bar. An angry looking man is yelling at the bartender, showing him a wanted poster for a hauntingly familiar face.

I quickly rolled up Victor's writing and shoved it in my bag, watching each soldier search the bar. The calming music rolling over this bar no longer felt comforting.

I stood up to leave, earning no attention from any of them as I slipped out the back door.

Cold, humid air hit my chin and spread across my face. Rain falling down onto my shoulders made me shiver, my breath smoking in the alleyway. This is ridiculous. Why did he bother asking for my help if he was just going to run off on his own?

"Victor!" I whispered loudly. "You left your-" I slipped and fell into a frozen puddle, earning shards of broken glass and ice in my knees.

I carefully lifted myself up, leaning my back against a foul smelling dumpster to take a look at my new injuries. It didn't look good.

Blood trickled down to my ankles, my frozen fingertips picking broken beer bottles from my skin. Id gotten my bag wet, ruining any understandable writing on his letters.

"Young lady." One of the soldiers from before hobbled in front of me, unable to see my face in the darkness. "I've been informed you recently met a friend of mine."

"You must have the wrong person."

"I assure you, I don't." He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, quickly releasing me when he saw that I was hurt. I slipped to the ground again, leaving him worried. "I apologize! Are you alright?"

"I'm okay."

He bent down to my level, pulling each ring shard from my knees and using his coat to clean some of the blood from my legs. "Can you stand?"

"I'm sure I could if I tried. Just give me a moment, I'm cold."

He draped his bloodied coat over my shoulders. "Better than freezing to death, right? Come with me."

I took his hand and slowly stood up, wobbling. It hurt to move my legs, but I didn't want him to know that. "I'll go home, but thanks anyway."

"I still have quite a few things to ask you. I'm sure you would appreciate the medical help, so just follow me."

"I don't follow strangers."

"The law states that you do as I say. Follow."