BURN

Chapter 2: Yellow Letters

CHAPTER 2

"From a stranger, to someone I couldn't stop thinking about."

Night 1, At the verge of Day 2

11:29 PM Adeline's Room

I'M IN MY BEDROOM, LOST AND CONFUSED. I RECOGNIZE THEM, BUT FEAR IS TOO DEEP, TOO THICK. I can't shake it off. I want to look, I want to open my eyes but I'm scared. Scared of who I'll see, of who it will be. If it is my murderer, if it is just a dream or a lucid imagination.

I could be going crazy, or wild. Or maybe I was already mad, crazy inside. I know I'm not imagining this scent, I know I'm not crazy...yet.

"Adeline, please. You can't fool me. Get up, Silly Dork." their voice sends an alarm in my head bursting. I know them, I know who they are. But what would they be doing here?

"Uncle Gale. What are you doing here?" my voice cracks, and my muscles clench and stiffen as I haul my weight up. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I can see his silhouette in the doorway; tall, powerful. Those are just a few words to describe my uncle.

He's amazing in all the possible ways. Single, taken, all kinds women want him. A lot of men envy him. He raises 3 kids on his own, he runs his business, he takes care of the entire family in Alvery. He's the father of fathers.

I can hear a pitiful sigh escape his lips and the sound of his boots beating against the wooden floor as he walks closer to me. I can't see his face clearly, but I can tell he hasn't slept. With the light from the hallway shining into the room, I could see a stubble forming on his square jaw and dark bags under his eyes.

Sitting down on my bed, Uncle Gale leaned forward reaching out to place his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry about what happened, Adeline. I didn't expect that to happen. I thought he just ran way, according to his family he did it a lot when he was stressed out." those words. He probably told people that at the station.

He was a detective, I'm sure he fed these same words to people before me. I understand that he is trying to help me, to make me feel better. But this, this is the same as those empty condolences my friends keep texting me. They're just words, words formed by letters and syllables. No actual meaning, because their actions speak volumes.

Some of them look at me almost happy that he was gone, because they envy'd me. But at the same time the same individuals are sad that they can't wrap their filthy hands around him. Others, they're just sorry that I'm going through the pain.

Most are disappointed and grieving because James was gone, because one of their golden boys is gone. But very few actually show empathy, very few reflect that pure concern they have towards everyone involved; his grieving family and friends, me, teachers, loved ones.

There are the even rarer kind that don't reflect anything at all. That are too hard to figure out in order to categorize them. They're just too mysterious, too dangerous and if you push to find out what they feel, who they are. They'll just end up burning you, suffocating you until you give up or die.

Just like Keaton.

He's so different, and so dangerous. He's got the ferocity of a tiger, the blackening look of a killer. I'm scared of him, and when I think of his blur of a face that one Christmas Eve, all innocent.

I can't place both of the images of him side by side. They're total opposites. I don't understand how this unwavering, stone stiff beast could be the same boy that wore a grey sweater and laughed all the time.

"Adeline? Did you hear me?" Uncle Gale snaps his fingers in from of my face, shaking me subtly to drag me back into reality.

"Sorry, I got caught up in the moment. I didn't notice I was...uhh-"