The Scavenger Hunt

Chapter 4-The Chase Is On

âOscar?â I snapped my head up and my eyes connected with Teds withered ones. He was giving me a weird look which probably meant that I had zoned out for a while.

âYeah?â My voice shook and had grown slightly breathless.

âYou okay?â He asked, his eyes weary.

I just nodded and grabbed hold of the beer that sat in front of me, taking a huge gulp that burned my throat as it slivered down, leaving a sour but addictive after taste.

Ted gave me another look but knew it was no good. He knew how stubborn I was and un-willing to burden people with my sufferings, unlike other losers that hung around in the bar.

He stayed silent and so did I.  

The day I killed my father and kid brother was the day my mind was amplified at its fullest. Most teenagers are angry and judgmental at that age but for a demon, all teenage angst is amplified at its fullest. For me, that cost my family their life, future, love and future happiness.  I promised myself four years ago that Iâd go back and ask for their forgiveness for my sins. But how could I ask of such a thing when I was the devil that destroyed their happiness? Theyâd deny me in the split second when they open the door and saw my face.

I drank large, deeper swigs of my beer hoping to help ease the pain to a bare minimal and lesson my burdens. 

Slamming the glass down onto the table, I grabbed my jacket and reached in my pocket for a five pound note. I shouted my goodbyes to Ted who was waiting some tables across the room and threw the money by the empty glass that was coated in foam on the inside.

âShit.â I muttered as I realised it was pouring down with rain.

I pulled my jacket up over my head and walked home at a steady pace, wallowing in my sorrows.

 I deserve it.  I thought to myself.

Through the misted rain, I could see a soft glow of warm, vibrant letters that caught my attention.

Pulling the jacket tighter over my head, I ran to building that stood at the far right of the street to find a warm, welcoming café beckoning for me to step inside.

I stood shaking my soaked jacket as the splashes of water, shook off relentlessly and stepped inside, my jet black boots squeaking as I walked to the counter.

âCan I get a coffee please?â I called to the waitress. She nodded eagerly, her golden locks bouncing with volume. Must have been a slow day for her then.

I dug out some change from my pocket to place on the counter as she dashed off, to make the coffee that I ordered, in such high spirits.

Drawing my attention away from the waitress, I let my eyes wander the room. It was a small, cosy café that gave a warm and welcoming impression. On each wide, mahogany table, there were a couple of leather seats surrounding it with a snug, crimson rug under the tableâs weight, adding contrast to the peaceful café.