Trust Your Instincts

-2- Memories

 Mark kissed his mother on the cheek, and did his 'lame guy secret handshake' with his brother before heading towards the door. Sometimes he wondered how either of them had any friends at all in school, but he was reasonably well liked, far from being a jock, but nobody had any problems with him, and he got invited to all of the house parties his schoolmates held.

 "I'm just going to Wade's, he says that he'll order pizza, so I shouldn't be back for dinner," he called to his mother, smiling.

 "Okay, hun! Be careful on the roads, and phone me when you're coming home," she replied.

 He nodded in agreement and smiled at the pair before leaving the house and started to head over to Wade's house. He didn't mind the walk. It was midsummer and reasonably warm outside, and he passed children playing in gardens and streets at almost every turn he took. It was the summer holidays after all. The pleasant ten minute walk took him to Wade's house, where he was greeted by the host and also Bob, who must have shown up earlier. Arin still hadn't shown up, so at least Mark wasn't the last to make it!

 When Arin finally got there, the weather had gotten slightly worse, and so they decided that they would stay inside and play video games instead. As if that wasn't Wade's original plan, Mark thought to himself, but if video games were involved, he wasn't one to complain.

 They must have played ridiculously late into the night. It was a long time after the street lights had flickered on, and the once naturally sunlit room glowed dimly, the only source of light being that of the TV screen. Mark would have continued playing if Bob hadn't announced that he was a half hour past his 11pm curfew.

 At this comment Mark sprang to his feet, his eyes wide with the realisation of how late it had gotten. He pulled out his phone, to let his mother know that he was headed home as fast as he possibly could. When he looked at his lock screen, however, grief flooded his face. His cheeks flushed red when he looked at the '10 missed calls' notification, three from his mother's phone, two from his brother's and five from an unknown number, each spaced about 30 minutes apart. He discarded the unknown number, thinking that it would likely be just someone trying to sell him something, and pocketed his phone, deciding he'd rather have his mother shout down the phone when he's alone on the way home, instead of standing with his friends.

 Mark waved Wade goodbye and at the end of the street did the same to Arin and Bob, since they lived in the opposite direction from Mark's house. When he thought that he was a good enough distance for the two of them not to hear him defend himself against his mother, Mark pulled out his phone and returned her latest call. Mark had hardly had time to put the phone to his ear when the call started, but the voice on the other end of the phone wasn't his mother's, it was low and unfamiliar. He knew it wasn't his brother either.

 "Mark Fischbach?" The voice questioned. "Is this Mark Fischbach?" 

 "Yes. I'm Mark. Who is this? Why do you have my mom's phone?" Mark asked.

 "Mr. Fischbach, my name is Dan Avidan. I work for the sheriff's department in your town," the voice explained. Mark's heart began to beat faster at the mention of the sheriff's department, but he kept his voice from cracking when he replied.

 "Okay?" Was all he could manage to say. He wanted to hang up, he didn't want to know why a police officer had his mother's phone, but he managed to keep the conversation going. 

 "Mark," Dan said, his voice much softer this time, almost soothing. "Today at 7:23pm an armed man walked into an Indian takeaway restaurant and demanded that the cashier put all of the money from the till into a plastic bag. The cashier cooperated without hesitation, but after the armed man had all of the money in his bag, he proceeded to shoot the cashier and the three other civilians inside the store. We have confirmed the identity of two of these victims to be your mother and brother..."

 Dan continued talking, but the phone was already on the ground as Mark fell to his knees, sobbing loudly into the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. He punched the ground in a fit of rage, but as soon as his fist came into contact with the concrete, he awoke. 

 He was on the plane to California, a thin layer of sweat encased his body, and the woman in the seat next to him was staring at him, wide eyed and clearly terrified. She asked him if he was okay, her voice shaking along with her hands, which were extended out to him, holding a clean tissue. He took it and wiped his brow, as he explained to her that it was just a recurring nightmare, and apologised for making her witness it. 

 He checked his watch. There was still 45 minutes left of the flight, so he put in his ear buds and stared at the back of the seat in front of him until the wheels screeched on the tarmac of the runway. He was embarrassed that the woman beside him saw him having his nightmare, but it wasn't new. He dreamt it every night. The exact same dream. Waking up only when his hands were bloody and Dan was picking him up off of the concrete floor.

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A/N Hey guys I'm back! I don't know really what to say in these author's notes but I really hope you're enjoying the story so far and I promise Jack will be present within the next few chapters, hopefully.

Anyway I hope you have a great day/night (whatever the case may be) and if you decide to read on, see you in the next A\N ;D