Invisible

Chapter Eight: Diagnose

"What do you mean Martinez had something to do with it?" Scarlett questioned with an edgy tone, "There's no way. He's a nice old man, he wouldn't hurt anyone.. Right?"

"That letter says otherwise," Aria spoke up, pointing to a piece of paper that Noah held in his hands, "He does have something to do with it. He's hiding something, maybe he and his son killed Miles?"

The Entity shifted uncomfortably with a frown on his features, brows furrowed together as he crossed his arms tightly at his chest. If that was the case, then why? What did I do for them to kill me? No more memories had come back to him, but, he wasn't entirely sure if Martinez was his murderer. Why would he risk his job to kill a kid? It wasn't adding up to Miles, there were too many thoughts running wild in his mind.

"Let's not make assumptions, not until we have our facts straight," Noah hummed, handing the note over to Scarlett, "We don't know what this note means. For all we actually know, his son could have just been a bully to Miles. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyways, while you and Aria were doing that, Scarlett and I couldn't get a hold of Cruz. He wasn't home, and he wasn't answering his phone."

Miles slowly uncrossed his arms and let them drop to his sides, gaze jumping from one kid to the next. From what he knew, and remembered, Cruz had been his best friend at the time of being alive. He could faintly remember the blonde boy, hardly recalling the joyous times they had together. They were the good kids, the quiet ones. They were the intelligent ones, the nerdy ones. They were the outcasts of the school.

"So, is it my turn to have an adventure with the guy who sees dead things?"

...

The snow had started to melt throughout the day, everything still remaining white and crispy. Now, cars were able to take on the roads without skidding everywhere, the ice had been thawed away by the salt trucks. A freezing, nippy, breeze had blown through, leaving the Entity thankful that he couldn't feel the cold; or, heat for another matter. Miles kept his clawed hands shoved in the pockets of his hood, keeping his dark eyes trained on the front door ahead. The children had decided to try Cruz's house one last time, this time it being Scarlett and Ryder.

"Surely, he won't remember who I am," Miles spoke, tearing his gaze from the door and moving it onto his host, "It's been thirty years, I doubt he'll remember."

"Mr. Whitlock remembered," Ryder pointed out in a mumble, it came out rather awkwardly as well.

For the sake of the other male, he stayed quiet; a part of him was amused by the strange look that Scarlett had given him. Talking to thin air is completely normal, not weird at all. The thought amused him further, though it was short lived. Hearing the sound of the door creaking open, his attention snapped back on it. Miles stiffened as a male poked his head through the door, taking a quick moment to study his features.

"Yo?" The dirty blonde questioned in a confused manner, blue eyes shifting from one kid to the next, "Can I help you?"

You haven't changed a bit, the thought had shocked him a bit. He was taken back by how familiar the other male had seemed, and looked. The dirty blonde hair was still unkempt, and wild. His posture was a lazy one, like it had been back in their school days. The aura around him, it felt painfully familiar. It felt like he was taken back home.

"Uh, yeah, actually," Ryder started off, breaking the Entity's train of thought, "I was wondering if you know a Jacob Price?"

"Knew. I knew a Jacob Price," The older male responded without hesitation, eyes narrowing, "I didn't catch your names, or, why you're exactly here?"