Replay {Skephalo}

5 | Here

-Darryl's POV-

I could hear the party from a mile off. Parties were never my thing, but I couldn't help but sing along to some of the songs. Mumbling 'drop the bass' under my breath as I walked back towards Northbrookes, I took in the scenery around me.

The town in which Northbrookes was located was a pretty normal size. Just another generic town, aside from the mass influx of teenagers over the past couple years. The town was dimly lit, but enough so that I could check my phone without being blinded under each street lamp. I opened Instagram and scrolled through a couple posts, most of them about the party.

That's when the sirens started.

Sirens, coming from the direction of a house down the next street over. I couldn't help myself as I quickly changed direction, taking a right down the street in the direction of the oncoming sirens. What if someone was hurt and needed help?

I started to see large groups of teens flood out of a pale blue house at the opposite end of the street. Most were staggering, clearly under the influence of alcohol. I approached two girls running towards me, their ruined makeup staining their cheeks. "Um... hi do you know what happened?" I asked them both nervously.

A blonde haired girl, roughly my age, burst into another round of tears. "It's my fault! I saw them arguing and I had to, before they got even more hurt!" she sobbed, her friend pulled her into a hug.

"A fight? Who? Who's hurt?" I began questioning. I was first aid trained. If the fight was so bad this girl called the police, the people fighting must be seriously injured, I needed to help them.

"Carder!" she sobbed. Carder. I knew that name. The girl's friend took over. "She means Zak Carder, you know, the younger  one on the baseball team? He got into a fight with Vincent in his class. It got violent pretty fast." My heart dropped to my stomach. Now I knew why I recognised the name.

I sprinted off in the direction of the house, yelling 'thank you' to the girls as I went. There was alcohol at the party, the police would certainly arrest everyone in sight when they arrived.

I had to save him.

I raced the sirens down the street, begging my legs to go faster. If Zak was as injured as the girls had described, he couldn't have got far. I reached the pale blue house on the corner of the street. People were still flooding out of the door, running frantically in any direction to get as far away as possible. I looked down each connecting street in turn, when my eyes lingered over a blue bag covered in little designs. Zak's bag.

Weaving through the rush of people, I made my way towards the bag about 20 metres down the street from the house. As I approached, I was certain it was his. The patterns were battered and covered in mud, the zip open and looking broken. There was blood on the bag.

So, so much blood.

My brain went into a frenzied panic.

Where is he? Who's blood is this?!

I picked up the bag and slung one of the straps over my shoulder before running further down the street. He had to be here somewhere. That's when I saw a body, illuminated by the street lights. I approached the body cautiously. They wore a black leather jacket and black jeans. Their face was buried into the pavement. I recognised the raven hair and tanned skin, it certainly looked like him.

I turned the body over. It was definitely Zak. He was covered in mud, alcohol, blood and splinters. His face was cut and bruised all over. My eyes trailed on his cheek I had patched up earlier that week. There was a shard of glass that looked to be from a broken bottle pretty deep in it. I could feel tears forming in my eyes.