Love of the Son

Chapter 2

-Lily-

The TV blared the sounds of cop cars and showed warning tape everywhere, like a Halloween decoration.

Except it wasn't Halloween.

Bodies lay on the ground, covered in white cloth. A large crowd had started to gather, and people cried out from behind the tape. In the background, a bank.

The Bank Murder.

Policemen yelled at each other and into their walkie-talkies, pointing at things I couldn't see. 

Finally, a crowd of burly policemen marched out, herding a group of people in the center of them. The news reporters yelled and swung their cameras in that direction, zooming up on the robbers. The one in the very center glared at the camera.

Sunken eyes and cheeks, his face was an ashen gray, which matched his eyes. His black hair matted against his face.

I tore my eyes away from his. My hands shook so violently that the phone slipped out of my hand and hit the ground. A part of their screen was shattered, but it still worked. 

My dad was at the bank.

I fumbled to press the call button. 

"Hi! You've reached Chris Thatcher. If you have a message, please leave it--"

Her dad's cheery voice was cut short when the phone dropped from my hand and shattered on the ground. Glass peppered the floor and bit into my bare feet.

I fell onto the couch. My wouldn't -- couldn't -- work. I stared at the screen.

He can't be dead, I thought. Just an hour ago, he had sat down next to me and ruffled my hair. He told me he was going to swing by the bank and come back with dinner. He couldn't be dead.

Right?

I stayed in a daze, watching the flashing blue and red lights on the TV. Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Sometime around midnight, the doorbell rang. But it wasn't her dad.

I stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. It felt like a piece of me had been ripped out of me, leaving an empty feeling in my stomach.

The policeman looked down at me with dark, worried eyes.

"I'm sorry."

---

My eyes popped open, the bright lights blinding me. I blinked and sat up. My head felt like I'd been holding my breath for too long. 

I was in the nurse's office, with its grey walls and soft hospital music playing in the background.

"About time," the nurse at the table grumbled. "I was wondering if I'd have to call your parents. School's over." She flicked her pen towards the window. It was dark out, and I wondered just how long I'd been lying on the dirty cot.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I'll go now."

"Yeah, go ahead." She looked at me over her cat-eye glasses. "You want an ice pack?"

---

By the time I got to the main doors, a storm was raging outside. Rain thundered down on the pavement and lighting flashed overhead. Everything was dark, making it ten times worse. 

I considered calling my brother to see if he could pick me up, but he was probably still working. I took out my umbrella, wondering if it'd break under all the rain. Clutching my phone, I hurried outside. The rain battered at my cover, but it kept me dry.

Rain sloshed under my feet as I rushed home. I kept an eye out, unsure what was hiding in the shadows. I tightened my grip on my phone and kept moving.

A high-pitched yell came from around the corner, and I paused, wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me. I heard a door slam and a strangled sob.

I stood there for a second, wondering if I should take the longer route home. But curiosity got the best of me, and I cautiously inched toward the corner where the sounds came from. 

I peeked around the corner, and I saw a tall figure silhouetted against the streetlight. Their back was turned to me, and I could make out their broad shoulders rising and falling. They stared at a door in front of them.

This is a bad idea, I thought. I stepped away from them and started to sneak back the way I came.

Before I could, the figure turned and looked at me.

My heart stopped. 

Ghost boy.

Alaister's kid.

The kid of the murder who'd killed my dad.

I took a step back. He continued to stare at me. I would've thought he was a statue if not for how alive his eyes looked.

Or how broken they looked.

We stared at each other for a second. The wind screamed in my ears. Rain splattered against the ground, my umbrella, him. He was soaked, and the hoodie and pants clung to him, highlighting his lean yet muscular figure.

Finally, he sighed and turned back to the door. He looked at it for a second, then walked off, his shoulder muscles tensed.

I watched his back as he disappeared into the rain and fog.

My head throbbed. What just happened?

The door slam. Ghost boy standing out in the rain.

I wondered if I should find him and figure out what had happened, but he was long gone.

I tried to shrug it off, but it stuck to me like glue.