Invisible

Chapter Twelve: December

The environment was cold and dark, rats scurrying across the ground; most likely fighting over a scrap, a piece of rotting food. The air was musky, filled with dust and the heavy scent of old mold. The place was clearly abandoned with how broken and run down it looked, the wood and floors rotting with the years that they had endured without being kept for. It must've been a house, or maybe even a small workshop. It was hard to tell with just a single glance.

"Ryder," A voice cut through the silence, sounding rather alarmed, "Ryder, wake up!"

A form was slumped against old, and rusty, looking pipes, hands cuffed to the metal. He sat on the ground, legs positioned awkwardly, it didn't look comfortable in Mile's opinion. His clothing was wrinkled and filled with dirt, even stained with blood in a few areas; small tears were evident, revealing his bruised skin and tiny cuts. The poor male looked as if he had been there for days, expression holding exhaustion as his temple rested against the cool surface of the rusted pipe he was attached to. His own blood was smeared against his cheeks, brunette hair falling into his face. He had been beaten.

".. Mm..." Ryder grunted after a few moments, slowly lifting his hazy gaze to the Entity that crouched before him.

The Entity could only stare at his host with distress and anger, a mixture of emotions boiled in his chest; making his throat tighten. Sorrow, pain, discomfort, these emotions were ones that felt uncomfortably familiar to his non-beating heart. I need to get him out of here! That exact thought kept cycling itself in his mind, he already lost track of the days they had been missing.

"Stay awake, don't you dare fall asleep. I don't care how tired you are," Miles said with urgency in his tone, he was clearly worried for the living boy.

I won't let him die, not like this. Not by the hands of that bastard, the thought pulled a growl from his throat. He won't end up like me. Those thoughts were snatched away from him when a low snarl suddenly sounded, making a chill go up his back. The feeling of dread felt heavy in his chest, dark eyes slowly moving to see what vile creature had made such a hostile filled sound. You have to be kidding me!

"Zure bizitza hartuko dut! Nirea izango da!" A shrill voice cried out, followed by multiple shuddering breaths, "Hil egingo naiz! Hil egingo naiz! I'll kill you!"

A mixture of fear and hatred burned in the pit of his stomach, the area around his mouth tearing open to emit a screech of defiance. No way in hell was he letting this thing near Ryder, not if he could help it. The other figure crawled slowly against the ground, the sound of bones creaking and cracking with each moment; the stench of the thing was horrendous, and the foreign threats grew louder with each scream and screech. Miles pushed aside his own fear, turning his back on Ryder to face the creature that kept creeping closer and closer. His tendrils whipped and cracked at the air, occasionally snapping right in the face of the other spirit. Trying to seem intimidating seemed to be helping, so he let out another screech of his own.

"Back the hell off!" Miles snapped, growl rumbling in the back of his throat, "If anyone is going to hurt him, it's going to be me!"

Slowly, the unknown spirit dragged itself back with a low screech. Miles watched it fade into the darkness, glancing over his shoulder to check on his host. He was displeased to see the male unconscious, though that didn't hold his attention very long. The sound of approaching footsteps pulled a growl from his throat, eyes flickering onto the doorway; waiting for the old bastard to show his face.

"Boy, wake up," A voice called out, followed by Martinez stepping in the opening of the broken down doorway, "Get up, them youngins' seemed to have sniffed us out. Ya' shoulda' kept ya' mouth shut about Jacob, everything was dandy. Ya' just had to go pokin' your nose where it don't belong! I told ya' to stay away!"

"I told you to stay away from her!"

...

The sudden, piercing, sound of a bell pulled Miles out of his trance. He blinked a few times, staring at an open locker filled with a few books; and a few scattered packets of papers. What..? Panic slowly started filling his chest, this all felt so familiar. Where am I? Where's the old man, and Ryder? Before he had the chance to turn around, a hand was placed on his shoulder. His form stiffened from the contact, eyes slowly turning to face the owner of the hand. His eyes went wide, and all his thoughts seemed to had stopped for the moment.

"Whoa, hey, are you alright? Pfft, you look like you've just seen a ghost!" A scrawny, blonde, kid stared at him with a cheeky grin, "Seriously, though. Are you alright?"

Cruz Ramos. He was staring at his best friend— from thirty years ago. The panic in his chest was slowly rising, forming a lump in his throat. His mouth was dry, his breaths coming out quick and raggedy. How— How can this be?! How the hell did I come back here?! He could only nod his head slowly, and unsurely. The dirty blonde wore a grey, black-striped, button-up shirt; his jeans slacking around his waist. They're too big on him even with a belt on. He always complained about them.

"Hey, Jacob," A soft voice chirped, making him twist his body to see who had spoken.

It was strange to feel his heart flutter, to feel it pound in his chest like a hammer against a wall. His eyes followed a brunette as she walked past him while hugging a book close to her chest, her shoulder length hair bouncing with each step. Her heels clicked against the floor, skirt trailing behind her as well; the blue long-sleeve sweater looked good on her, he thought so.

"Oh, lala! Nicole totally has her eyes on you," Cruz piped up once the girl had walked away some more, giving a light punch to his friend's shoulder, "Hey, what's that in your hand? Oh, is it a love letter from your girlfriend?"

No, no, no, no! No, I'm not supposed to be here! I need to get back, I need to get back to Ryder! I'm not Jacob anymore, I'm Miles! Each time that his previous name was said, it made him cringe. He cringed when Nicole had said it, and he cringed when the name popped into his mind. How the hell did I get into this mess?! Wait, love letter? Surely enough, there was a folded up piece of paper gripped tightly into his left hand. Miles lifted it up and hesitantly started to unfold it, ignoring the eager comments from his friend. All of it, everything was familiar. It feels like déjà vu, because, I've lived this moment. His blue eyes scanned over the few words that were written in the crumpled paper, breath being caught in his throat. The handwriting was cursive, and written in a pink pen. At the bottom of the paper, there was a lipstick stain– as if someone had kissed the paper purposely.

Dear Jacob, I have noticed the way that you stare at me during the lunch hour. I have noticed the chatter amongst our friends, and I'd like to say that I do indeed return your feelings. Meet me behind the gym, after school.

He blinked a few times, folding it back up to its original shape. On the front of the folded it up piece, it read Nicole's name. Miles couldn't focus on what Cruz was yapping on about, he could only focus on the absolute dread that he felt in the pit of his stomach.

"Cruz.. Cruz, what's the date? The full date?" His voice spoke up, almost passing as a whisper.

"Huh? Oh! It's December 28, 1986!" Cruz hummed, posture slumping to a lazy one, "You're such an airhead sometimes, Jacob!"

The day of my death.