Forever Bound

Chapter 9

          I wandered aimlessly down the stairs calling my mom, it was eleven ‘o’clock on a Saturday morning and she hadn’t woken me up. I blamed it on early morning errands until I realized that Caitlin was also absent. That’s when I began to worry, Caitlin had been at Greg’s party the night before there was no way she willingly woke up before noon.  After fifty unanswered calls and texts, my sore thumbs glided over the key pad in search of the three numbers I was dreading dialing.  “9” If anything had happened, action would be needed sooner than later. “1” This was precautionary. “1” Nothing happened. My thumb barely grazed the neon green call button when the front door opened. I dropped my phone slumping my shoulders as I sighed of relief. As I rose to question their whereabouts the looks presented on their faces prompted me to ask a different question.

“What’s wrong?”

Dried tears caked their faces, new ones streamed down.

“Greg was found dead in Badica forest” Caitlin chocked. Without a second thought I reached for the fridge and placed two pieces of bread into the toaster.

“C’est la vie” I leaned on the counter focusing intently on the glowing red metals heating up my bread. I might as well have been watching paint ry but at that moment I needed anything to keep my thoughts in place.

“You’re kidding me right?” Caitlin said, “I know you hated him and he did a lot of things to you but he was 17 Riles, he didn’t deserve to die.” I shrugged and turned to look at her. Caitlin or should I say the Caitlins stared at me with this disapproving glares. There were thereof her al with the same look swirling around. I shook my head and they morphed into one disappointed teary-eyed teen. Greg’s death was making my head spin. Even though the being of Greg Meyers wasn’t really something I cared about, it was startling and unnerving to find out he was dead. How did he die? A part of me was remorseful but another felt as if I should be glad that he was one, the latter part was the one who spoke when my mother reprimanded me.

“That was very rude.”

“Why? I didn’t like him.”

          She came up to my face, “I know he was mean to you Riley…” she began but I cut her off “mean? Greg Meyers wasn’t mean to me, he was evil, he made my life a living hell. He was practically the devil, mean is an understatement.”

“He was still a child of God” my toast popped up “yeah well I’m pretty sure God’s darn happy that that creature is off his good earth. Anyways, I have to go to work.”

A bone-chilling breeze brushed against my cheek as i walked out of the house, numbing every part of my body except my already frozen heart. Walking down to the bus stop any solemnity I had for Greg’s death went away along with the feelings in my fingers, and I thought, good riddance.

        Established in 1968 by holocaust survivor Ben Simmons, Benny’s Books was a quaint little bookshop just outside Badica Hill. Looking from the outside it resembled any ordinary bookshop, built of bricks with a bell hanging from the door to alert of a new arrival. “It is better to read a little and ponder a lot that to read a lot and ponder a little,” a sign bestowed on the door read.  The pungent aroma of dust and age emanated from the outdated books that graced the wood shelves. The store was very cozy with dim lighting and setup like a living where customers could sit and read the book of their choice with no obligation to buy the books. This was probably I wasn’t paid for my services but I didn’t mind because it meant that every Saturday, and Monday, I could escape the suffocating air of Badica Hill.

          Nobody came into the store all day as per the usual, so nearing the end of my shift I began to dose off. “Riley Cruze?” my eyes flipped open; before me were two members of the sheriff’s posse.

“Yes?” I asked standing up straight.

 “I’d like to ask you some questions about where you were last night.”

“Sure go ahead,” I sounded confident but my stomach was in knots, because the knowledge of where I was last night was completely lost on me.

“Where were you last night?” he flipped open his pocket notebook pulled out a pen from the breast pocket of his caramel coloured uniform.

“I was home last night, I don’t really go out.”

“Were you anywhere near Greg Meyer’s party?” a scene flashed before my eyes of me falling out of a tree and the thumping of loud party music pounded in my ears.

“No, I already said I was home,” his lips formed into a thin line as if he didn’t believe me, “I wasn’t invited so I didn’t go.”

“Look kid nobody’s blaming you for anything we’re just trying to see if anybody might have seen or heard anything, because from the look of it this was no accident.”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes wandered around the store as if he was debating whether to tell me.

“The kid’s throat was torn out and there were slashes on his face and body.”

I pictured Greg Meyer lying inert on the forest ground, throat bleeding three deep slashes across his face five tearing through his shirt and ripping through the skin on his muscled chest. The image was so vivid; it was as if I had been there myself. Picturing those wounds something dawned on me, “why are you questioning humans?” his eyebrows rose, “I mean you found his boy in the woods right? So maybe it was an animal mauling,” he looked me over and jotted something in his notebook. He continued on with is seemingly accusatory questions, all the while the picture of Greg’s body floated around my mind.

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It's only been two weeks but it feels like two months, school has taken up all my time making me unale to write, but I have finally gotten a chance.

Thoughts about Greg's death?

Comment below on your thoughts on this chapter and the story as a whole, as well as your predictions on what might happen next. Stay Tuned...:)