We're Not Strangers Anymore

Chapter Twenty Eight - Delusions

'What? You can't be serious. Please, Charlie, tell me that you're joking.'
A look of deep regret was smeared all over Charlie Broomer's face, and for him, this was the icing on the cake - the mystery had been solved, but it wasn't one that he wanted to solve.
'Meriden Drive,' he muttered, almost silently. 'Meriden Drive.'
Uttering these very words chilled him to the core of his bones, and the hair on the back of his neck, as if right on cue, began to stand on end. The school's history teacher, a Mr Johnathan Meadows, emerged from the bottom of the corridor.
'Broomer, Webb!' he barked, 'get to where you should be!'
Charlie frowned at the tall man and turned to face Emily, who now looked just as worried as her boyfriend.
'Charlie, I don't think you should worry,' she said.
'What? I hope you're not being serious? The corpse of a little boy shows up on the doorstep of Jamie's neighbour's house, and you're telling me not to worry?'
'I just think it's pointless. Why worry about something in life that you can do essentially nothing about? It's pointless.'
'But I can do something about it, and I am doing something about it, all right? I'm going over there on Friday night, that's literally two days away now.'
Emily looked as though she very much regretted passing on her wisdom.
'Okay, I'm sorry then. I'm just trying to help, you know.. but if I'm not of any assistance to you, then I'm sorry.'
Charlie sighed, and said: 'No, it's not that. I do appreciate you being around, and you are helpful, it's just.. I'm stressed, okay? I'm stressing, and I'm worried about Jamie, I'm worried about that creepy, psychopathic father of his, I'm worried about that old and practically decrepit house of his, I'm—'
'Calm down,' Emily interrupted, 'you're working yourself up. Look, I'm coming with you on Friday night, whether you like it or not.'
'Em, it's too dangerous. There's no way in hell that I'm taking you with me. If his father is even half of the menace that I think he is, well, it's dangerous. That's all I'm saying.'
'If it's so dangerous,' Emily retorted, 'then why are you going over there?'
Charlie paused for a second, as if the anticipated answer was already clear as daylight. 'Because he's my friend, and that's what friends do. No matter how scary the situation, you always protect your friends. No matter what.'
She sighed, taking his hand into her own. 'I just want you to be safe, Charlie, I don't want yours to be the next death that I read about.'
'And it won't be,' he assured her. 'I'm gonna be really careful, we both are. I'm finding out what's in this basement, and I'm going to ring the police when I end up finding whatever is inevitably in there. I know already what's in there, I've seen it with my own eyes.'
The bell began to ring throughout the many halls and corridors of Belgrave Academy, signifying the start of the next lesson.
Emily let go of his hand, removing an eyelash from her left cheek.
'Well whatever happens, I'm here for you. No matter what. I just hope you'll be safe, yeah?'
'Oh I will be,' Charlie said confidently. 'I'll be tremendously safe.'

********

Day turned into night and night turned into day; the sun was slowly rising over the historic English town of Belgrave. It was Thursday the 29th of February, and the small Catholic Church directly opposite the Broomer residence was already filling up with people. Charlie Broomer watched in awe from the comfort of his bedroom, observing each individual churchgoer as they entered the building, creating little narratives and stories for them as they went in. One particular man, he'd already decided, was a local town fireman. The man was tall and overpowering, a seemingly terrifying middle-aged figure who had stopped off at the church on his way to hose down a burning building.
Charlie grimaced at the man's passing resemblance to Mr Manley, allowing the image of Jamie's father to once again plague his thoughts.
Within an instant he was back there, standing inside of the Manley's living room. The old television set was turned up so loud that Charlie's ears began to hurt, and sat directly in front of it was Mrs Manley herself.
'Cup of tea, young man?' she asked.
She had not once asked this in reality.
'Yes please, if you're making,' Charlie had responded, polite as ever.
'Say, young Charlie, would you like to see my basement?' Mr Manley would ask, licking his lips as he ran his fingers gently through his own greasy brown locks.
'Yes,' Charlie replied, removing his black trainers almost obediently.
'Then come with me.'
Mr Manley led him down to the basement, past the antique jewellery that sat on dusty shelves, past the filthy clothes that hung on broken washing lines. Charlie took a deep inhale, taking in the bitter smell of rust and human sweat.
As they proceeded down the creaky steps, a growing angst developed slowly inside of his stomach. Charlie pulled an ugly, twisted face, but Mr Manley's expression didn't change, not once. He was smiling.
'My humble abode,' he whispered.
I don't like how cold his voice is. Feels like I'm one of them or something.
The basement was dark, and Mr Manley's quick decision to turn on the light did practically nothing to change the room's twisted and evil ambience. 
As the light slowly began to turn on, Charlie jumped back in fear, falling onto the stair's third step. He gasped, feeling frightened and terribly uncomfortable.
Saliva dribbled down from the curled lips of Mr Manley. 'What? You don't like what I've done with the place, son?'
'Don't call me that,' said Charlie, 'this isn't right, none of it is.'
Charlie anxiously scanned the room and immediately felt a strong sense of uneasiness wash over him. He shivered, picking himself up from the battered wooden step.
Mr Manley looked up at the lightbulb, which was now flickering like a whirlwind. Grinning, he asked: 'What do you think, son?'
Charlie took one last look around, finally realising what was in the basement.
He shuddered, whispering the words: 'I think I'd like to leave now.'