Midnight. ☆ [boyxboy]

Shock.

"Mom! I'm home!" I shouted out.

Nala was barking and hopping up on her hind legs to greet me and I patted her head and ruffled her ears "I'm glad to see you too, girl"

I headed into the kitchen where I heard voices and Nala followed closely in tow.

"Mom, I'm home" I repeated to her and she glanced up from the small kitchen TV sitting on the counter, but when she looked back to the screen, my eyes followed.

The camera zoomed in on the familiar face of Connie Grettchette, a morning and afternoon news reporter, a worried expression took over her petite features. She glanced down at the papers before her on the desk, before looking back in the direction of the camera.

"Welcome back to your local news at 6. We will pick up on our continuous coverage of the vicious attack at the canal, exactly one day ago. Several neighbors called in seeing suspicious activity at the entrance of the Langer canal, a block down from McCormick st., but it was a early morning jogger who found and confirmed the death of 25 year old, Marcus Marchello Jr. Some are calling the attack, a vicious and sadistic murder. And some are saying Marchello was attacked by a wolf. But although there are many speculations, the body of 25 year old Marchello has been taken in to be examined and the final cause of death will be revealed."

She flicked off the TV and turned to face me, but she didn't make eye contact. Her eyes were downcast onto the granite countertop.

"I don't want you going for anymore of your midnight walks.."

I stood there, my feet glued to the floor. My eyes glancing back and forth from the TV to my mom. Fear surged through me and I sighed, thinking on rather or not I should put up a fight or sneak out to go on my midnight walks, whatever "it" was, he didn't kill me, although he could have. More questions flowed through my mind; Should you tell your mom what you saw? Should you go to the principle and tell him that the guy he hired as an English teacher is really a psychotic mutilating murderer?

I found my voice finally and spoke "I understand" and she looked up from the countertop, she rushed over to hug me and the words and tears rushed out.

"I was so terrified when I saw that this morning on the news. It could have been you, you walk by McCormick all the time! It could have been you, Zane. I could've lost you.." She squeezed me in her arms as much as she could, since I was way taller than her.

I placed my arms around her waist and held onto her, I hated seeing her so upset and scared, so I tried my best attempt to block out what was going through my head, to comfort her "Mom, I'm alright..See? It could have been me, you're right. But it wasn't. It wasn't. I'm okay."

She nodded and I sighed in relief as she pulled back from me, she then reached up to wipe beneath her eyes.

"I must look a mess.." she smiled at me and straightened her shirt "I was about to prepare dinner" she said, turning her head to glance at the cut up salmon on the cutting board.

"Mom, you don't look a mess, that's for sure. You look beautiful as always and Salmon for dinner tonight? My favorite" I grinned at her "Did you want some help..?"

She shook her head before speaking " No, no. I'm sure you've got homework, friends to text, shows to watch. I'll be fine. I'll call you down when dinner is ready" she said as she went over back to the sink to wash her hands.

I nodded at her "Okay, love you" I said and backed out of the kitchen, getting one last glance at her before making my way down the hall and up the stairs to my room.

The door to my room was pushed up, but not closed. I bumped my knee into it, walking right in. I sighed in exhaustion and dropped my messenger bag to the floor, I kicked off my shoes and took a seat in my spinning chair at my computer desk and began to beat myself up over this entire ordeal.

I turned to rest my elbows on the computer desk, holding my head in my hands.

What should I do. What could I do. I called in a report, thinking the cops would come 'round and check it out. But it was too late and I was starting to feel as if the victims death could've been prevented, but wasn't. And this was somehow my fault. I slid my fingers through my hair, pulling my bangs far back from my forehead, I pulled my hair until it was taut at the roots and angry tears fell down onto the desk. I crossed my arms and set them on the desk, resting my forehead on my arms, I closed my eyes.