T⃨u⃨r⃨n⃨ O⃨n⃨ T⃨h⃨e⃨ N⃨i⃨g⃨h⃨t⃨ | The Lost Boys

C⃨H⃨A⃨P⃨T⃨E⃨R⃨ E⃨I⃨G⃨H⃨T⃨E⃨E⃨N⃨

⚠️WARNINGS: panic attack⚠️

I started work the next day with little expectations.

It was another evening shift and I'd be closing the store down at 10 p.m. slightly later than what I was used to. It wouldn't be too bad, I supposed. Tips so far had been generous and it seemed the usual asshole crowd had taken a vacation. Pausing from wiping down the plexiglass counter, I spared a look at the entryway.

I wondered who'd show up this evening. I silently wanted to see David, if just for a bit of clarity on my situation, but knew it was more likely I'd run into Paul or Marko.

Ever since returning from the cave, my days had felt lighter. That was the benefit of getting laid I supposed. Mortal worries seemed to fade away in favor of desires of the flesh.

Desires I hadn't stopped thinking about since David dropped me back off at my truck last evening. My obsession was almost cause for concern, but I filed away that thought with the reassurance of sanity.

I was allowed to enjoy yourself, dammit.

The bell above the door sounded, signaling a new flood of people and halting my inner monologue. I paused from my wiping, drying my hands off on my pants before sending the crowd a counterfeit smile. As I waited for them to sort through their orders, I trailed my stare over to Laddie's napping figure. He'd brought a blanket for this shift, hoping to catch up on some sleep after a restless evening back in the truck.

I shook my head fondly, mentally reminding yourself to call it an early night tonight.

The bell rung again, and I sent a practiced grin toward the newcomer, "Just a moment, sir. I'll be with you shortly."

I didn't get much of a glance at the newcomer other than a brief notice of his glasses. The group in front of me continued to order and I jotted their choices down on a small notepad. Two cheeseburgers, fries, a soda— I nodded along, listing out their specific variations, when I felt the urge to glance at Laddie again.

The pencil in my hand screeched to a stop.

Ignoring the bewildered mumbles from the customers, I marched around the counter and glanced anxiously around the restaurant. Nothing. Without a hint of an explanation, I stepped away from my post, walking frantically to the men's restroom. I opened the door with a bang, sticking my head into the single stall restroom.

Nothing.

Desperation ate at me, flooding my veins in dread as I fought not to panic.

"Shit. Shit—" You jogged back to the main area of the restaurant. A wild surge of fear guided you as you ducked and dived, checked every booth and table for your wayward son, "Laddie! Laddie!"

One of the customers took a brave step forward, "Ma'am? Are you okay?"

I spun to address her, hands shaking as I threw a hand around the room, "Did you see a little boy walk off? Bout this tall— long hair?"

He wouldn't walk away. He knew better. Us guys had a system, and he knew it. The cardinal rules of my family's existence operated in such a way that me and Laddie rarely spent time alone from one another.

He'd never do this— he wouldn't be so reckless.

"No," someone in the group answered, "We didn't see nothing, ma'am."

"Fuck!" I shouted, ignoring the way the noise made the crowd jump. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, wildly pushing through the crowd and grabbing my wallet and keys off the counter, "Look— we're closed. I've— I've got to go."

I didn't wait to see if they left. I didn't even care about locking the entrance as I jerked the glass door open, practically throwing myself out of the open doorway.

"Laddie!" I bellowed, "Where are you?!"

The bright lights of the Santa Carla boardwalk nearly blinded me and I blinked, throwing an arm over my face as I struggled to regain my balance. Staggering, I straightened up and threw my head around, desperately looking for any sight of my son. When he didn't pop out and laugh at his cruel little prank, I feverishly began to shove through the crowd.

I went to the motorcycle rack first, begging to a god I long forgotten that the boys had scooped up my son in a mockery of a joke. Dodging through the pedestrians, I sprinted toward the familiar area, heart dropping uncomfortably to my stomach when their usual bikes weren't there. My feet came to an abrupt stop, my sandals digging into my flesh painfully as I whirled around.

"No, no, no, no," I muttered, stumbling away. I felt faint as you turned, staring at the huge crowds dotting the Santa Carla boardwalk, "God— fuck me. Fuck!"

I began to run before I realized what I was doing. Breath crawled out of my lungs in horse pants and sweat bleed down my brow. Every child I saw I prayed, and I prayed, that they turned out to be Laddie. But I was failed, over and over again.

I finally stopped in the middle of a wave of people, my voice catching as I screamed again, "Laddie!"

This couldn't be happening— he couldn't be gone. The realization made my whine, dragging a wobbly hand through the ragged strands of my hair. I made a long-drawn-out noise, catching on the grief tucked deep in my throat as I whirled around, hysterically searching through the crowd.

I begun to push, shoving my elbows deep in the chests of bystanders as I fought against the surge of people, screaming my son's name on repeat.

Faces blurred together and my mind fell blank, uncaring about anything in the world other than my son. I didn't know what I'd do if he was gone— if I couldn't find him— a wet cough crawled its way out of my lungs and I clutched at my heart, face growing ruddy with anguish.

My voice was sore, throat stinging with the aftereffects of my shouts, but I didn't give up.

I'd search this whole damn city if I had to.

"Laddie!" I cried, voice cracking in anguish, before dodging past a couple of drunk teenagers, "Laddie!"

My voice faltered as tears blurred my vision. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't fucking think-- I just kept running, screaming my son's name with the faintest prayer of answer. It hurt— it hurt so bad. I felt like half of my soul had been split away, thrown into the wind and torn to pieces.

"God," I sobbed as the tears began to fall. The crowd around my thinned out until it was just a smattering of people hovering near the edges, "Please, please, please—"

The boardwalk got smaller and smaller, my hopes and prayers remaining unreturned. My steps got heavier, grief sinking into my bones as I began to realize just how terribly I had failed. Hot tears bleed down my face, coating my cheeks in shame as I continued to beg for my son.

Eventually I reached the pier, and I slapped my hands against the wood, crying one last time with all the strength I could muster, "Laddie! Laddie, where are you?!"

I wasn't sure how long I stood there screaming before words failed me and I collapsed, fingers digging painfully into the wood as my grief overcame me.

An answer never came.

From that moment on, I forgot how to be human.

Every second of my life felt akin to a battle. This had to a be a punishment, a curse from god almighty for allowing myself to enjoy life again after the sins I'd wrought.

Seconds turned into hours, hours turned into days, and yet Laddie never returned.