Stories to Keep You Awake at Night

Darkstar part 2

He​ ​should​ ​not​ ​be​ ​standing​ ​in​ ​this​ ​room.​ ​He​ ​should​ ​be​ ​at​ ​the​ ​station.​ ​He​ ​should​ ​be​ ​getting​ ​to​ ​the bottom​ ​of​ ​this​ ​but​ ​he​ ​couldn’t​ ​seem​ ​to​ ​abandon​ ​the​ ​form​ ​before​ ​him,​ ​who​ ​lay​ ​nearly​ ​lifeless,​ ​in the​ ​hospital​ ​bed.
“What​ ​happened​ ​to​ ​you?​ ​I​ ​wish​ ​you​ ​could​ ​tell​ ​me…”
There​ ​was​ ​no​ ​response​ ​from​ ​the​ ​one​ ​in​ ​the​ ​bed.​ ​He​ ​was​ ​so​ ​small,​ ​so​ ​fragile.​ ​His​ ​eyes​ ​had​ ​been closed,​ ​some​ ​merciful​ ​nurse​ ​had​ ​seen​ ​to​ ​that,​ ​but​ ​it​ ​didn’t​ ​matter.​ ​The​ ​man​ ​who​ ​stood​ ​in​ ​the room​ ​thinking​ ​that​ ​he​ ​should​ ​leave​ ​remembered​ ​how​ ​they​ ​looked​ ​when​ ​they​ ​were​ ​open.​ ​No one​ ​had​ ​reported​ ​a​ ​missing​ ​child.​ ​It​ ​had​ ​been​ ​two​ ​days​ ​since​ ​those​ ​eyes​ ​had​ ​been​ ​closed​ ​and​ ​he had​ ​been​ ​settled​ ​into​ ​the​ ​hospital​ ​bed​ ​but​ ​no​ ​one​ ​had​ ​been​ ​missing​ ​him.​ ​The​ ​woman​ ​hadn’t had​ ​any​ ​identification​ ​on​ ​her.​ ​The​ ​information​ ​that​ ​they​ ​had​ ​found​ ​had​ ​linked​ ​her​ ​to​ ​the​ ​name of​ ​a​ ​child​ ​who​ ​had​ ​died​ ​at​ ​birth,​ ​long​ ​ago.​ ​Soon​ ​the​ ​tests​ ​would​ ​return​ ​which​ ​would​ ​prove​ ​that the​ ​detective’s​ ​worst​ ​fears​ ​were​ ​confirmed.​ ​What​ ​if​ ​that​ ​woman​ ​had​ ​been​ ​this​ ​boy’s​ ​mother? Was​ ​there​ ​really​ ​no​ ​one​ ​who​ ​could​ ​say​ ​this​ ​child’s​ ​name​ ​and​ ​call​ ​his​ ​soul​ ​home​ ​to​ ​the​ ​frail​ ​body that​ ​barely​ ​had​ ​enough​ ​substance​ ​to​ ​rumple​ ​the​ ​sheets?​ ​The​ ​detective​ ​sighed​ ​heavily​ ​as​ ​he smoothed​ ​his​ ​hand​ ​through​ ​hair​ ​that​ ​was​ ​a​ ​little​ ​bit​ ​greasy​ ​from​ ​lack​ ​of​ ​a​ ​shower.​ ​He​ ​should​ ​go home​ ​and​ ​take​ ​one​ ​of​ ​those​ ​or​ ​eat,​ ​maybe​ ​sleep​ ​if​ ​he​ ​could.
How​ ​was​ ​he​ ​going​ ​to​ ​be​ ​able​ ​to​ ​look​ ​into​ ​those​ ​big​ ​blue​ ​eyes​ ​and​ ​say​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had​ ​found​ ​a​ ​way to​ ​offer​ ​justice​ ​for​ ​what​ ​had​ ​been​ ​done.​ ​Even​ ​when​ ​the​ ​body​ ​healed,​ ​would​ ​this​ ​one’s​ ​mind ever​ ​be​ ​able​ ​to​ ​understand​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had​ ​tried,​ ​that​ ​he​ ​wanted​ ​to​ ​give​ ​closure​ ​so​ ​that​ ​this​ ​boy could​ ​smile.​ ​He​ ​almost​ ​looked​ ​peaceful,​ ​almost.​ ​If​ ​he​ ​had​ ​been​ ​older,​ ​the​ ​soft​ ​furrow​ ​of​ ​distress that​ ​marked​ ​his​ ​brow​ ​would​ ​have​ ​seemed​ ​more​ ​commonplace,​ ​but​ ​in​ ​someone​ ​so​ ​young,​ ​it made​ ​the​ ​child​ ​before​ ​him​ ​feel​ ​even​ ​more​ ​tragic.​ ​What​ ​had​ ​he​ ​been​ ​like​ ​before?​ ​Would​ ​he​ ​ever be​ ​that​ ​boy​ ​again?
The​ ​detective​ ​turned​ ​as​ ​he​ ​felt​ ​a​ ​presence​ ​behind​ ​him.​ ​He​ ​thought​ ​he​ ​saw​ ​something​ ​dark​ ​out of​ ​the​ ​corner​ ​of​ ​his​ ​eye,​ ​as​ ​though​ ​someone​ ​had​ ​just​ ​left​ ​the​ ​room.​ ​Had​ ​someone​ ​been standing​ ​behind​ ​him?​ ​He​ ​stepped​ ​to​ ​the​ ​door​ ​and​ ​slowly​ ​opened​ ​it.​ ​It​ ​hadn’t​ ​been​ ​latched.​ ​He thought​ ​he​ ​remembered​ ​pulling​ ​it​ ​so​ ​that​ ​it​ ​latched​ ​behind​ ​him​ ​when​ ​he​ ​had​ ​arrived.​ ​Though his​ ​eyes​ ​found​ ​no​ ​one​ ​in​ ​the​ ​hall,​ ​he​ ​glanced​ ​back​ ​and​ ​forth​ ​twice​ ​to​ ​be​ ​sure,​ ​before​ ​he​ ​realized he​ ​must​ ​be​ ​mistaken.​ ​Perhaps​ ​it​ ​was​ ​only​ ​his​ ​exhaustion.​ ​He​ ​should​ ​leave.
He​ ​turned​ ​one​ ​last​ ​time​ ​to​ ​look​ ​upon​ ​the​ ​form​ ​in​ ​the​ ​bed.​ ​His​ ​eyes​ ​widened​ ​as​ ​he​ ​found​ ​they weren’t​ ​alone.​ ​Pale​ ​fingers​ ​gently​ ​smoothed​ ​dark​ ​hair​ ​from​ ​a​ ​troubled​ ​brow.​ ​Something​ ​was wrong​ ​with​ ​the​ ​man’s​ ​eyes​ ​as​ ​they​ ​gazed​ ​down​ ​upon​ ​the​ ​boy​ ​in​ ​the​ ​bed.​ ​Something​ ​was​ ​wrong with​ ​the​ ​far​ ​side​ ​of​ ​his​ ​face…​ ​his​ ​clothes​ ​which​ ​seemed​ ​to​ ​hang​ ​from​ ​him​ ​as​ ​though​ ​they​ ​were gently​ ​suspended​ ​in​ ​water​ ​and​ ​made​ ​of​ ​something​ ​only​ ​slightly​ ​heavier​ ​than​ ​smoke.​ ​Something was​ ​so​ ​very​ ​wrong​ ​with​ ​this​ ​person​ ​despite​ ​that​ ​he​ ​bore​ ​the​ ​same​ ​foreign​ ​beauty​ ​that​ ​the​ ​boy in​ ​the​ ​bed​ ​had.​ ​The​ ​detective​ ​was​ ​gripped​ ​with​ ​the​ ​wish​ ​to​ ​run​ ​just​ ​as​ ​quickly​ ​as​ ​he​ ​was​ ​the rush​ ​to​ ​step​ ​closer,​ ​so​ ​he​ ​chose​ ​to​ ​remain​ ​stone​ ​still​ ​instead​ ​of​ ​doing​ ​either.​ ​He​ ​saw​ ​the​ ​boy take​ ​a​ ​deep​ ​breath​ ​and​ ​finally​ ​the​ ​furrow​ ​relaxed​ ​so​ ​that​ ​he​ ​was​ ​only​ ​young​ ​again.​ ​The​ ​pale hand​ ​slowly​ ​withdrew​ ​and​ ​the​ ​dark​ ​figure​ ​straightened.​ ​Eyes​ ​that​ ​glowed​ ​like​ ​arctic​ ​ice​ ​finally rose​ ​and​ ​met​ ​those​ ​of​ ​the​ ​detective​ ​who​ ​was​ ​just​ ​beginning​ ​to​ ​realize​ ​he​ ​barred​ ​the​ ​only​ ​exit. Sumptuous​ ​lips​ ​pushed​ ​together​ ​as​ ​the​ ​creature​ ​squared​ ​off,​ ​shifting​ ​the​ ​most​ ​infinitesimal amount.
“Elia…”​ ​the​ ​creature​ ​spoke​ ​in​ ​a​ ​whisper​ ​that​ ​sounded​ ​like​ ​shifting​ ​leaves​ ​on​ ​a​ ​forest​ ​floor.​ ​His lips​ ​appeared​ ​to​ ​move​ ​purposefully​ ​as​ ​though​ ​he​ ​were​ ​unused​ ​to​ ​pronouncing​ ​the​ ​word,​ ​the name.​ ​He​ ​looked​ ​to​ ​the​ ​boy​ ​in​ ​the​ ​bed​ ​and​ ​let​ ​his​ ​hand​ ​stray​ ​back​ ​toward​ ​him,​ ​indicating​ ​the child​ ​who​ ​finally​ ​seemed​ ​to​ ​be​ ​peacefully​ ​sleeping.
“Elia,​ ​is​ ​that​ ​his​ ​name?”​ ​Could​ ​it​ ​be​ ​true?​ ​All​ ​the​ ​detective​ ​received​ ​was​ ​a​ ​gentle​ ​nod​ ​before​ ​the figure​ ​dissolved​ ​into​ ​shadowed​ ​wisps​ ​of​ ​smoke.
“Elia.”​ ​The​ ​detective​ ​said​ ​it​ ​again​ ​as​ ​he​ ​blinked​ ​in​ ​surprise​ ​before​ ​he​ ​stepped​ ​forward,​ ​more relieved​ ​to​ ​have​ ​some​ ​clue​ ​about​ ​the​ ​child​ ​than​ ​immediately​ ​worried​ ​about​ ​what​ ​just happened.​ ​”Elia,​ ​Elia​ ​come​ ​back.​ ​I​ ​want​ ​to​ ​talk​ ​to​ ​you.​ ​Elia​ ​I​ ​can’t​ ​fix​ ​this​ ​without​ ​you.​ ​I​ ​want​ ​you to​ ​heal.​ ​I​ ​want​ ​you​ ​to​ ​be​ ​well.​ ​Please​ ​Elia,​ ​let​ ​me​ ​make​ ​this​ ​right.”
He​ ​would​ ​be​ ​the​ ​one​ ​to​ ​say​ ​that​ ​name​ ​if​ ​no​ ​one​ ​else​ ​would.​ ​He​ ​would​ ​find​ ​a​ ​way​ ​to​ ​make​ ​this better.