Hunt of the Night

c h a p t e r t h i r t y f i v e ( c h r i s )

Previously....

Chris held the pillow in the air, hesitating as he gazed at the deranged girl. Guilt washed through him first, but then flashes of the night came to the front of his mind.

I have to do this.

With one last glance at the girl, he forced his eyes shut and pressed the pillow down. Turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes closed, he felt the body beneath him grow still. Deciding not to waste one more second in the dainty house, Chris took off without a second thought.

Through the house, the clearing, he finally caught back up to the rest of the guys who stood around a fresh pile of dirt.

It was done.

None of the boys exchanged words in this moment. Whether the silence was for the strangers whose lives they took, or the silence for their innocence that was taken away from them that night, was unknown. Words couldn't describe the pain and discomfort they were feeling as the shovel fell from one of the boys' hands next to that pile of dirt. Words wouldn't be able to fill the void this night would bring, their heavy breathing and panic stricken looks were enough.

With a nod of the head, they knew.

They had managed to do the unthinkable.

They were free.

Currently...

Sunday

I let the blunt fall from my lips onto the pavement. I stubbed it out with my toe, exhaling. I had been self medicating since my return home. That's all I could do at this point. Being numb was the only option. I closed my eyes, falling back on the porch steps. Images flashed through my head, but I shook them off. I was lucky. No one was home when I got there.

The house was empty, quiet, and dark. Just the way I like it. It's so much better than hearing the cussing and the shouting. From the looks of it, they hadn't been home in a couple of days either. Fine by me. At least the house was cleaned up. One less thing I needed to worry about. It was like the house was brand new. No needles on the counter tops. No residue on the coffee table. No empty pill bottles littering the floor. It was clean and it was nice.

I almost didn't know what to do with myself.

Silence didn't seem like the best option right now. The memories were loud enough to keep my company. I found the courage to make it to the master bedroom. If they had been gone this long their stuff had to be gone.

I flung the door open, half expecting the room to be the usual drungy, stained room it had always been. I was shocked to see the room had been cleaned, but the stains were still there. Those memories I had managed to push so deep down, they rarely made an appearance anymore. I slowly made my way to the closet, hesitating before sliding the door open. The clothes were neatly hung up, as if this was a daily chore. Nothing seemed to be missing though. I opened the drawers. Nothing was gone. I walked to my room, careful to leave the lights on as I moved from one open space to another. No darkness today.

My room had been untouched. Everything right where I left it. I stood in the doorway, just looking over every little detail. I sat down on my bed, resting my head in my hands. I took a deep breath and laid back. The ceiling fan wasn't on as usual. I sat up, looking at myself in the mirror. Is this who I've become? I ran my hand through my hair and that's when I noticed it. In the reflection, my tin was knocked sideways. I felt my lungs constrict as I darted to the shelf. I grabbed the metal lunch box, praying to a God I didn't even know existed, only to find out that all my money was gone. All five hundred dollars. Fuck. I ran to my bathroom, hitting the floor with my knees as I pulled open the doors underneath the sink. Super fuck. All three thousand fucking dollars were gone. They didn't even leave me a penny. I fell back against the wall, staring at the empty duffle bag under the sink.

They were going to be gone for awhile this time.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, staring at that bag, at all the years and deals I had done to get that money-just gone. I knew better. I managed to pull myself up. The munchies were hitting. I stumbled into the kitchen, turning on the light. Hopefully they left me food because they didn't leave me with money. I opened the fridge slowly. I waited for the light bulb to flick on. It was stocked with food.

What the fuck?

I stared at the fully stocked fridge. There was fruit. There was vegetables. Cheese. Deli meat. Orange juice. Eggs. Yogurt. Lettuce. Soda. It was full. I opened the freezer, expecting the same. I was not disappointed. Steaks, chicken, frozen dinners, ice cream. It was also full. The delighted feeling didn't last long before reality set in.

How could they pay for all this? And more importantly, why would they pay for all this?

I shut the doors to the refrigerator and slowly stepped back, trying to control my breathing.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

I took a deep breath, pulling myself together. Don't question it. Respect it.

And I ate. I ate a meal for the first time in a long time. I ate for all those meals I never got to eat. I ate for what felt like an eternity. I ate until I felt like my stomach was going to bust wide open.

Food never tasted so good.

I grabbed a soda, waddling to the back door. My eyes widened at the pool, that hadn't been filled since I was little, that was filled to the brim with crystal clear water. I turned on the back porch light, sliding the glass door open. I didn't hesitate as I felt the soda can fall from my grasp and I ran. I ran straight for the pool. I felt the cool water sooth me as I swam. I now lay floating in the pool, staring at the night sky, counting the stars.

For the first time that I could remember, I felt at peace.

I was happy.

My skin was wrinkly when I finally pulled myself out of the pool. I stripped down to my boxers, leaving the wet clothes on the porch rails. I walked inside, thankful I left all the lights on. I changed into dry clothes, grabbing another soda on my way to the living room. I sat down on the couch. There was a white envelope on the top of the coffee table. I hadn't seen it before.

It was addressed to me.

I opened the envelope, unfolding the piece of notebook paper.

This should be enough until you turn 18. You're welcome.

I rolled my eyes. Usual parents. They'll be back when my money runs out. I tossed the envelope back onto the coffee table. When the paper made contact, I noticed another slip of paper had fallen out. I picked up the piece of paper, flipping it over. A check.

I laughed, rolling my eyes. This sucker would bounce. They had no money, that's why they took mine.

My laughter came to a stop, however, when I noticed that the signature at the bottom was not my parents.

It was the signature of a dead man.