Kahoot x Reader

Chapter 27

~ 17 years ago ~

"Phillipa, I-I don't know what to do." Mr. Adams shakes barefoot in his kitchen, one hand holding a phone to his ear and the other hugging a baby to his chest. Moonlight streams in through a slit in the window, lighting up the child's blue eyes. Mr. Adams has only had the kid for two hours and already the guilt of what he's done is setting in.

The need for things to be how they should be surpasses that icky feeling rotting him from the inside out, though, and there's nothing to be done about it now. He hugs the child closer.

"What? Do what? Phil, what's wrong?" his sister replies, concern thick in her voice.

"Julie is- she- she...she's dead."

Phillipa's muffled gasp comes through the line. How does one react when your brother tells you his wife has died?

"Oh my God. Phil...I am so, so sorry." A pause. "The baby?"

"I have him. He's fine. He's alive." Which is a lie. Well, a half-lie. The baby in his arms is alive; his and Julie's baby... not so much.

"Thank God," she whispers, relief flooding over her. "Do you want me to come over? If I leave right now, I can be there in three hours."

"Yes," he says, voice cracking in all the wrong places.

Three hours later, Mr. Adams is crying into his older sister's shoulders. The material of her coat is thicker than the shirts she wore when they were kids. It's wool and scratchy, rubbing his cheeks red, not at all like the thin buttery-soft stuff she wore as a teen. But her hands are the same. Gentle, reassuring things that hold his head like they can shield him from the chaotic world and remove the pain from his heart.

"You have to take him," he says. "Please. It'll just be for now, I need...I need time. I need time."

It wasn't just for now. She took in Toohak, and days turned to weeks turned to months. Mr. Adams visited them on the weekends. Whenever Phillipa mentioned giving him back, he always said the same thing: "I just need time." She gave him time. Months turned to years. The kid started school where Phillipa lives, living with her during the week and finally being brought back to Mr. Adams to visit on the weekends.

Toohak wasn't sure which house he preferred. His mom's house was in the same town as his friends, which meant he got to play with them. But the other house had his dad in it. Don't get Toohak wrong, he loves his mom, but his dad was much more fun and refreshing. No nagging to pick up his toys, to eat his vegetables, to clean his room. His dad only seemed to care if he was happy and having a fun time. The good cop of the duo.

This changed when he became a teenager. He knew his mom was actually his aunt and not his biological mother, but to him she was still his "real" mom. She's the one who raised him, supported him, and made homemade soup for him when he was sick. His dad didn't do much. Toohak's still feels a little bit resentful towards him for not helping out as much as he should have. He's trying to make up for it now though, letting Toohak have free reign of the house to use as his personal classroom during his online courses, among other things.

At least it's something.

***

~ Present ~

"You brought her back?" Mr. Adams is incredulous, hands raise in the air.

"Yes, I brought the little girl back," Toohak says though gritted teeth. "We've been over this."

"And you're sure you weren't caught? There are no ties that can lead back to you?"

"No. I was careful, geez." Toohak round the corner to his bedroom. He looks back from the doorway. "Why did you take her anyway?"

That question threw him for a loop. Mr. Adams mouth opens and closes like a fish. "I don't have to justify myself to you."

"I don't have to justify myself to you," Toohak mimics back before slinking inside and closing the door.

His windows are still closed and shrouded with curtains. It feels too gloomy without even a wisp of sunlight, so Toohak pushes the curtains aside, half-expecting to see a group of three teens outside. There's no one, just yellowing grass and pebbles littered across it. He doesn't know why he's disappointed.

***

Flashes of red and blue shine into Bay's living room. Her fingers freeze on her ukulele as her heart drops, then kicks its notches up by ten.

Law-abiding people go tense at the sight of cops roaming. They see the blue suits adorned with shiny badges and promptly start to walk in the opposite direction, and even though they've done nothing wrong, there's still that fear, that sneaking suspicion that they can be caught for something. Even if they're innocent.

Bay's fear is realer. She's innocent as well, but they're still harbingers of bad news. The last time she spoke to one it was about them having no leads on Camille yet. Every interaction has been tinged with that awful feeling of losing. They could be announcing anything.

Even with that fresh in her mind, she's still the first to go to the front door when she hears two firm knocks in succession. Any news is priceless at this point. She opens it.

Cold air rushes into the room as Camille darts inside and attaches her little arms around her older sister's leg. Bay hears talking, probably an officer, but the words don't stick in her head. Her knees falter. Bay wraps her arms around Camille too tight for it to be considered comfortable, but neither complain as she fists the fabric of her pink dress in her hands and holds her closer. She doesn't let go.