The Sunshine in My Veins (Peterick) ➳ Book 1

Twenty

"Fucking Weekes," the blue haired man hissed as he stared down at the dead body on the floor. Her hair was soaked with blood, her eyes dull and lifeless, her body contorted in an awkward angle as if she had been pushed down the stairs before the final blow that left a noticeable dent in her skull and ended her life.

"How could you?" he screamed. A glass vase was hurtled across the room, with its contents of withered lilies scattering in a haphazard path along the floor. Not satisfied, he took to shouting insults at a man who couldn't hear him and ruining more of the glass decorations dotting the room. "How fucking could you?"

"Excuse me?" a timid voice called from behind him.

Startled, he turned and launched a small angel statue at the cowering figure that managed to duck in time.

"Who the fuck are you?" The blue haired man snapped as he took in the boy's figure. A few scratches ran parallel on his left cheek, just missing his eye. Torn and dirty clothes hung over his frame like hand-me-downs from a sibling a few sizes too big. Shoes worn to the soles. Wide empty eyes. An overall helpless looking creature.

"I'm . . . I'm Ty-Tyler," he stuttered. "Tyler J-Joseph."

Tyler stood waiting, eyes curiously trained on the other's face.

"Josh," he finally grumbled, not bothering to give a last name. He wasn't so trusting when it came to others.

Tyler gave a weak smile. "Hi, Josh."

Josh turned and stalked out of the hallway; his destination was the kitchen.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"Where're you going?" Tyler asked.

"Away from here," Josh replied.

"Where?"

"Home."

"And that is?"

"None of your business," Josh snapped.

The chuckle that slipped from Tyler's lips changed the mood instantaneously. It was almost as if the lights had been dimmed, even the sun.

Stalking forward, Tyler reached a hand towards Josh.

"Stay away from me, you freak." Josh stumbled back a few steps, regaining his footing moments later and putting the table between them.

Tyler didn't seem fazed by the harsh tone or word. Instead her merely smiled again, this time wider than before. "Oh, no, Mr. Dun. You're coming with me."

Two bodies collided together, landing painfully one on top of the other. A flash of silver caught Josh's eye, but by the time it registered as to what it was he was already fading away, the effects of the serum rapidly injected into his veins already taking effect.

*

Patrick woke with a headache. Not to mention the room was spinning and there were a few specks of blood on his hands. He couldn't remember what exactly happened—some rabid kid or something—but he was lucky enough to be alive with all of his supplies.

He let the dizziness pass before he attempted to stand on his own. Pete would've helped, he though bitterly. Pete wouldn't have let that kid get anywhere near Patrick, but Pete was a traitor. The thought made Patrick's stomach twist. He decided to skip breakfast.

As he staggered down the stairs the thought came to him that he was alone without a plan just as he had been several months ago. He stopped on the last stair and looked around. What was the point of leaving? He was no better off anywhere else, so why leave? Shrugging, he meandered towards the living room where a shelf a books sat perched in a corner.

To his delight the previous owners of the house had taken a liking to the Harry Potter series and had proudly displayed all seven of the books right in the middle of the shelf. Patrick grinned and pulled them off, managing to stuff all but the first one in his backpack.

He got comfy on the sofa and carefully opened the book to the first page, soon getting lost in the magic that had captivated him since he was a kid.

The hours slipped away as they would with anyone too engrossed to pay attention to the time. By the time Patrick finished the first book the sun had already set and he was struggling to say awake. His stomach growled in hunger despite the fact than he had munched on a few things here and there as the day progressed. So he went to rifled through the pantry in the kitchen, but when he got there he screamed.

The intruder placed his hand over Patrick's mouth in a effective way to silence him.

"I'm human," he said. "Name's Dallon."

Patrick's eyebrows furrowed and nose crinkled as he patiently waited for Dallon to remove his hand.

"Right, sorry."

Once Dallon removed his hand Patrick dared to ask the question burning in his mind. "Haven't we met before?"

"Have we?"

"You were fighting those Killjoys and my friend and I helped you," Patrick muttered, the word "friend" leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Oh." Dallon's eyes widened in recognition. "Right. You two were making out and nearly got yourselves killed."

"Yeah," Patrick replied sheepishly. "That was us."

"I never did get your name."

"I'm Patrick."

"Nice to meet you, Patrick. Where's the other guy?"

"Not here."

Dallon took it the wrong way. "Oh. Sorry to bring it up."

"No. He's not . . . dead, just not around anymore. Things got . . . complicated."

It was obvious Dallon wanted to ask more, but Patrick was thankful when the subject was dropped and another was brought.

"Uh. Mind if I steal some food?"

"Go ahead. Just save some for me."

"Of course. What kind of house guest would I be?"

Patrick faintly smiled and picked up the bag of chips he had been coming to get in the first place. "I'll be in the living room," he said.

"Okay."

Assuming Dallon would be staying, Patrick spread himself out on the love seat and left the long sofa for Dallon. Slowly, he absentmindedly munched on his chips as the ticking of the old grandfather clock echoed around him. Part of him wondered where Pete was. Part of him didn't care. But Patrick couldn't control what he dreamt about, and that night he dreamt about the man who may have stolen his heart.