To Crush a Rose - Floyd & Riddle

Chapter 14

Riddle never believed in ghosts. Even the nightmares of his mother hadn't haunted him as much as being alone in this house did. A creak of the wood would send his heart racing, thinking for a moment that Floyd had come back. He'd reach over in the morning hoping that it was just a bad dream, but it never was.

Floyd Leech wasn't coming back.

He'd waited as long as he could knowing that if he was going to turn, it was probably better to do it in a place that was familiar and away from everyone else. But with each day that passed, nothing changed. Riddle would wake up, ration his meals to the best of his ability, and go back to sleep without that insatiable hunger that Floyd had.

He didn't want to leave. He clinged to the hope that the ghoul would walk through that door, apologize for being late, and pull him into a tight hug. But without fail, he was left alone and now he was running out of food. He could stay here—give up—but even he knew that sounded ridiculous. Even if Riddle felt like there was nothing for him back in town he had to try.

The redhead had found a backpack buried in one of the closets and packed what little things he could. Honestly, he didn't have much and the things he wanted didn't exist. Floyd had left behind some clothes, but that didn't hold the sentimental value he craved. Despite how affectionate the older boy was, it seemed he really didn't like to hold onto much aside from the journal he kept. Riddle couldn't blame him for that.

Mostly, he packed his own clothes, a shirt of Floyd's, a tiny bit of money he'd seen on the counter when he was cleaning and had thought nothing of. Grey eyes scanned the bookshelf in the living room as he stood in the front door, trying to think of any last minute details he was forgetting. His gaze finally landed on the book Floyd had given him so long ago—the one explaining what a jikininki was. Riddle knew there wouldn't be anymore answers he could glean from it—he'd poured over it time and time again. It wouldn't tell him where Floyd had gone or why he had felt compelled to leave. It wouldn't tell him why he hadn't even had the guts to actually say goodbye. Even so, it made him feel less alone. Where he was going there were no jikininki. There'd be no one who understood what he'd gone through.

The redhead took a deep breath and shoved the book into the bag before leaving the place he'd called home for the last time.

A part of him had hoped that the walk back to town would help him clear his mind, but it only made him feel less alone. Each twig snapping, each brushing of the leaves made his heart race. That familiar sensation of the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck never came, though. Floyd wasn't lurking in the distance like he had all those times in his dreams. He was just gone. The teenager hugged himself tightly, keeping his eyes on the ground until the way was no longer as familiar as he had liked.

As he entered the town, he had to face the fact that he didn't actually know what he was going to do. His mother was gone. Trey was gone. He didn't even know if Che'nya still lived there and if he did, he didn't know where to find him. All he could do was wander the streets, taking in the different people around him as he tried to think of a plan. He considered going to his mother's clinic, but he couldn't be certain anyone would even remember either of them at this point. He'd been gone for so long that anyone who once knew his mother could have already come and gone. That is, if Floyd hadn't killed them first.

Riddle came to a stop as he eyed the familiar lettering on the windows that obscured the intricate pastries inside. Bile bubbled up within him, visions of Trey's mangled face once again coming to the forefront of his mind. His whole body went cold and he couldn't help but double over as he dry heaved onto the pavement.

"A-Are you alright?"

The boy tried to wave it off, but he felt a hand placed on the small of his back. "Come inside, let me get you some tea." Blue-grey eyes finally took in the familiar green hair of Trey's mother. He remembered, even as a kid, thinking how similar the two of them looked. The boy's bottom lip quivered, though he couldn't manage a protest as she led the two of them inside. "Honey? Can you put on the kettle?" She called out to the man behind the counter.