Hatchetfield.

but now this room is spinning while i'm trying just to fill in the gaps

All Richie knew was that she was gone.

He'd found out the news at Beanie's. It was after school, and he'd just finished up his latest cram session with Pete and Ruth. No matter what Ruth liked to say about cramming, it had just been some simple studying and that was all. There were no mysterious phone calls to be had, no surprise texts from cool, popular girls, no horrible references alluding to Star Wars. All in all, it had gone off without a hitch. Richie had felt more than prepared for their chemistry test the next day as he'd walked out of the library, waving goodbye to Pete and Ruth as he did so, adjusting his shirt and keeping a careful watch out for any wayward bullies he was likely to catch the eye of. He'd walked into Beanie's, suspecting nothing. But of course, someone had the volume turned up on their phone watching Action News with Dan and Donna just a little too loudly, and that was when Richie had the shock of his life hearing his own last name.

"... this just in, Margaret Lipschitz, owner of Hatchetfield Cedarway Apartments, has been found brutally murdered --

"Hey, can you turn that down?" shouted a man with long, golden hair from the counter. "I'm in a hurry!"

Richie's world began to spin. He stumbled forward to the person watching the video, but he must have misjudged the distance because he walked straight into the line that had been forming for the coffee instead. Cries of surprise followed him as Richie felt himself pitch forward, the floor of Beanie's swaying and growing blurry.

"Hey! Hey, kid! Kid, come on! You alright there? Emma -- Emma can we get some water?!"

"Huh? Oh -- yeah -- hold on Paul just, I dunno put him in a chair or something --"

"Hey, kid, look at me, okay? Just -- just breathe for me, can you do that?"

Richie blinked hard, the black spots darting in and out of his vision before slowly solidifying into a rather plain-looking face staring down at him. Slowly he registered he'd been guided to a place where he could sit. Static grew in his ears and he tried to shake his head, his movements slow and lethargic. The man took him by the shoulders but he could barely feel it.

"Hey -- hey come on now, stay awake for me. Here's some water -- thanks, Em -- what's your name, kid?"

"R-Richie..." Richie slurs loosely, blinking again so the man in front of him comes into focus. He's just some guy wearing a brown suit, twin blue eyes of concern looking down at him from floppy brown hair, not quite unlike Richie's own.

"Okay, that's a start. Richie, I got you some water, can you drink it for me? Now -- hey, hey look at me, alright? Listen -- my name's Paul, Paul Matthews, does anyone know you're here? Your parents?"

"Paul, don't assume --"

"Okay, right -- your uh -- legal guardians? Or -- or whoever?"

Someone was still watching the broadcast. Like he was stepping through molasses, Richie turned to look and listen, the voice of Donna filtering through the air like he was hearing it through a long, long tunnel.

"... she leaves behind one son, Richard Lipschitz, as sole proprietor of Cedarway Apartments."

Next thing Richie knew was that the cries of shock and horror were for him falling off the chair and fainting clean away. His last sight before he swooned was Paul's face full of worry leaning over his. He hadn't known a stranger could be so worried for his own safety. Or that someone would even want to be.

***

Hours later, Richie awoke with a start. This was not his bed, and this was not his apartment. No -- he lay on a shabby little couch in a shabby little living room, a TV dark and dormant in front of him. Faint light filtered in through the archway, and as he woke up more, he thought he could hear soft voices from the other room. A kitchen, maybe, based on the mug of tea that had been placed in front of him on the coffee table.