Meat Family

Chapter 3

Imperfect crime

Pure luck

Two weeks had passed since the incident.

Justin was reported missing. How? Pure luck.

Brock's father had explained every step he needed to follow. First, clean up all the blood and any signs of contamination—make sure it never looks like a murder took place there.

Next, remove the body. The hardest part. As Brock looked down at Justin's lifeless body, tears welled up in his eyes. He was so sorry; he couldn't control himself. He didn't want this to happen... But what could he do... it had already happened. He couldn't undo it, only save himself.

He thought about where he could hide his friend, then remembered an abandoned house not far from the school. He pulled down Justin's shirt to cover the hole in his stomach and lifted him up with both hands. The smell hit him immediately—a slightly sweet scent. Brock shook his head; no time for that. As long as the sun was down, the streets of the town were empty.

Redwood Academy wasn't located in a big city; it was surrounded by more boarding schools and housing for the Academy. So, at night, most students were in their beds, resting for the next school day. Brock lifted the lifeless body, which felt light in his arms. He looked down at Justin's lifeless, empty eyes and felt the nausea rising again, but he had to keep going. Time was running out.

The orange-haired boy moved quickly through the dark streets. Only the streetlights illuminated the way, and there wasn't a soul in sight—except for a couple on the other side of the street. Panic surged through him. Had they seen him?

Breathing heavily, he arrived at the old, abandoned building. It didn't fit in with the modern houses surrounding it; it looked out of place. The paint had peeled away, revealing the reddish bricks underneath. A few windows were shattered, and insects crawled up the walls. Brock carried Justin's body inside. It was even darker there than outside—only a faint light from outside managed to creep in, but it was quickly swallowed by the darkness.

The rooms were empty, as if the owner had taken everything before leaving the house forever, or maybe the items had been stolen. Brock laid the body in a dark corner, deep inside the house where no light could reach. He looked again into his friend's eyes. He pressed his lips together to hold back his tears, but it was no use. Fresh tears flowed from his swollen eyes.

"I'm so sorry..." Brock sobbed. "You... you didn't deserve this... I'm so sorry..." He could apologize as many times as he wanted, but nothing could make up for what had happened. He had lost his friend because he refused to listen, because he didn't understand how dangerous he was, how dangerous the curse—Cursed—actually was.

Now, Brock left Justin's cold body lying there, alone in the darkness. His parents would never know what really happened to their son, and Justin would remain in that abandoned house, slowly being consumed by insects until nothing was left.

In the days that followed, Brock had to rely heavily on luck. Justin was reported missing after a few days, and as the police investigation began, Brock's panic skyrocketed. They questioned everyone at the school—classmates, teachers, friends, even the old janitor, who fortunately had forgotten that he had given Justin the key to the locker room. The old man's memory was failing him.

Brock was questioned too, and it was difficult to lie. He wanted to break down in tears and confess everything he had done—what Cursed had forced him to do—but that would surely land him in prison... or worse...

Two weeks had passed, and even the television had taken notice of the missing boy. Justin's face was everywhere in the news. Brock couldn't watch TV anymore without seeing his friend's picture, knowing exactly where he was now. The weight of this secret was unbearable. Everyone around him was full of sympathy because Justin had been his best friend, and Brock hadn't been his usual cheerful self for days. He hardly spoke and preferred to be alone. The memories of what had happened haunted him constantly, keeping him awake at night. Even though his brother and Ryan were always by his side, Brock could see the pity in their eyes, the desire to help him—but he didn't want help. He was the one who had killed Justin, the one who had ruined everything. Things had been going so well... why...