Paper Lanterns

Chapter 19 Φ

Chapter 19 Φ

"Is she dead?" Mr. Davis repeated. He was wearing his sleeping robe, since they'd no choice but to wake him up during this hour. It was the same thing Mr. Davis had asked them a while ago, and nobody could provide him a decent answer. His patience was running out, and Eric could feel the tension rising.

Mr. Davis was a sharp man, with features closer to Eric than with his firstborn son. With that same dark brown hair and green eyes, it was easy to tell that they were related. Jared had mostly taken his mother's striking details—those blue eyes and deep blonde hair. But years of wasting away had made Jared appear to be pale and lanky.

"We don't know if she's really gone or..." Eric tried to explain, since his brother didn't seem to be willing to cooperate on how they should deal with this. Mr. Davis had coined the term a long time ago, and Eric first heard about it a few weeks after he had moved to this house. And ever since that very first time he'd been here in his father's study room with them as they took care of Jared's issues, he hated it. Eric loathed what they were doing.

They shouldn't be having this meeting on how to resolve what had happened. Instead, Jared should be on his knees, begging forgiveness from the victim's family. It riled him to see that Jared was comfortably sitting on the sofa, yawning as he appeared to be very tired.

Ever since they got here, it became clear that Jared had found his shelter. He instantly calmed down to the point of detachment. Eric even caught him stealing glances at his phone, muttering to himself that it was late and he wanted to hit the bed. Within the walls of this residence, nobody could touch him, and Jared knew that.

"I'm not asking you, Eric," Mr. Davis answered. He was a man who uttered words with substantial authority. Turning his high chair so that he would be facing Jared, Mr. Davis went on, "I need to know the answer and not some mere speculation. Is she dead?"

"I think she is," answered Jared, sliding back on the couch as he crossed his arms in front of him. Eric disbelievingly eyed his relaxed stance. Jared seemed to notice his brother's glare. "What?"

"How could you say it like that?" Eric asked him, disgusted.

"Let's just admit the truth," Jared started. "She was lying on the streets and bleeding for hours. Do you think she'll get to live after that?"

"And who do you think let that happen? Who hit her in the first place?" Eric asked him through clenched teeth. If he had known that Jared would only be cowardly hiding around here, he would have had handed him over to the cops earlier on. How could he believe him in the first place? There was no place for conscience in his brother's twisted head.

"It was an accident." Jared looked away, unapologetic.

Mr. Davis furrowed his eyebrows and forcefully rubbed his forehead in dismay. His eyes shifted to the man that Jared had brought with them—the lone witness. "And who is this?"

"I'm Andrew Fletcher, sir," the man stammered, refusing to make eye contact. His handkerchief was meticulously soaked by now, as his nervousness hadn't subsided.

"And why are you here?" Mr. Davis questioned him with a flat voice.

"He saw everything," Jared was the one who answered, as if stating the obvious. He turned to the family lawyer, Mr. Jack Thompson, who was standing nearby. He came here as soon as he'd heard about what happened. "We should do what we always do. I'm not gonna leave him there. Another witness will be handy. Make sure they will tell the same story."

Mr. Davis said, taking a deep breath. "He was there when it happened."

Jared let out another yawn, rubbing his eyes. "Can't I just see you guys again tomorrow? I'm exhausted. I don't think I can stay up for another—"