Whitewashed

Empty Chairs

Chapter 3: Empty Chairs

The moment the car stops, I rush outside, only bothering to close the door so the rain won’t ruin the interior of the vehicle. I sprint into the office building, looking for one person and one person only.

If I am in this situation again, possibly long term, I need my ally back- and alright fine, I’ll admit. I missed him. I missed him terribly.

I miss that kid’s cheeky comments, his thoughtful actions, and yes, even his stupid smile.

However, upon entry into the building, I’m not greeted by any of these things.

Instead, a very foul smell reaches my nose first. Maybe it is because I had been knocked out last time and my olfactory system got used to it or the rain had kicked up something exceptionally nasty today, but I almost have to take a step back outside.

Maybe a thorough cleaning would do this place some good- or I should simply invite EVERYONE over for a nice long shower.

The second I am done blinking back the tears from the potent scent, I catch sight of Little Man, Prints, Tats, and- oh god.

Tommo.

Just the sight of him makes me tense. I need my buffer. I need my guide.

I just can’t deal with any of this without him.

I need Haz. Where is he? Hadn’t he heard I was coming back?

Tats and Tommo thankfully ignore me, but Little Man and Prints instantly brighten up. The first rushes forward, giving me a jump hug before quickly letting go, “Ozzie you’re here again? Did you kill someone this time?”

“Um, no,” I laugh as he takes a step back, but really I’m not paying attention to what he is saying. My gaze keeps flicking over their shoulders at the other office doors, particularly one wedged between two wire racks.

Prints beams at me, “Ozzie! It’s great to see you’re back!”

“Yeah,” I wheeze excitedly as he pulls me into a tight hug.

Little Man, who is now leaning against the wall, abruptly looks distressed, “Should we tell her?”

Fear instantly, automatically pulses through me, “Tell me what-?”

“Nothing! Well, nothing more than we’ll probably have a place for you to make your own room now. Isn’t that right, LITTLE MAN,” Prints shoots the kid a pointed glare.

“Yup! Sure! Definitely,” Little Man nods much faster than is necessary as the older guy drags him away. “Bye Ozzie! See you around!”

I turn to watch them go, but stop as soon as I spot Tats talking quietly to Tommo.

The first man’s gaze flicks back and forth between us, “You brought her BACK?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Tommo’s eyes narrow, tone more accusatory than inquisitive.

It isn’t what the tattooed guy says next that bothers me, but instead his expression. The smallest of smiles warps his thin lips, his voice quiet, “Nothing.”

My mouth opens to say something, but the screen door behind me swings outward and I lose interest in their conversation immediately, the two men taking their leave through my peripheral vision. I turn around, expecting to see, Haz, but it is only POGs, his hair, which usually sticks up at all angles, plastered to his face due to the rain.

With us alone now, I decide to ask, “Hey POGs, have you seen Haz?”

My anxiety levels spike since Little Man’s comment. Is there something wrong?