n i n e
"Factum fieri infectum non potest." - Terence, Phormio 5/8:45
WHERE IS SHE?
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At this late at night, the Tube was the perfect picture of a murder scene before the actual crime. Bright, fluorescent lights scattered the grey walls, one flickering every so often. Few people scurried past him, heads lowered and coats pulled tight to their chests. William stepped out onto the platform, heart beating in his chest.
Normally he'd be excited, happy even, to return home and to be making this trip, but the problem was he was making it entirely too soon, which meant something was wrong. Mary wouldn't have sent that note unless she truly meant it; she'd never asked for William to step in before when things got bad, so why was she now?
So, here he was, hailing a hackney carriage, the black sleek car taking him from the London Underground towards his home. William didn't know what he'd do if he hadn't snuck Tom's money into his pocket before heading to the Academy as Summer had been coming to an end. He'd have walked if it came down to it.
By the time William made it home, the crescent moon was high in the sky, a sheet of clouds shielding it from view. He handed the old man driving the black cab his money, then slung his single bag over his shoulder and slammed the car door shut.
There, hidden in the shadows of the night, stood his foster parent's house. It was fairly large, bigger than the average house, yet not huge. William knew Tom was well set off-his parents had old money, and in turn, Tom worked for his parents company, that is, when he wasn't drunk off his mind.
In the darkness, it was difficult to get a good look at it, though William knew what it looked like nonetheless. He eyed the black slate roof and the grey stone chimney. Moss climbed up the side of the brick walls from the abandoned garden, splitting off in different directions and winding up as if it were simply a green snake frozen as it slithered upwards.
He marched past, striding toward the front door. Without hesitation, William knocked on the front door without cease as the autumn winds nipped at his bare skin. About two minutes later, the door swung open, revealing Tom in all his non-glory.
He stood, short mud brown hair with grey strands sticking up in different directions, a single beer bottle dangling in his hand as he squinted at William with narrowed, hazy eyes. He appeared older than he actually was; years of nonstop drinking had robbed him of his youth.
"What're you doing here, boy?" he slurred.
William pushed past him and into the house. "Where's Mary?"
Tom coughed loudly-once, then twice. "Out," he wheezed, then wiped his mouth against his sleeve. "I don't know."
William strode into the kitchen, straining to see as all the lights had been turned off. Tom was right behind him. "You're lying."
"Don't question me, son." He took a swig of his beer bottle, only to find it empty. He let it drop carelessly in the sink. A loud clink sounded as he turned away and reached into the old refrigerator. "Why are you here?"
"Where is Mary?" William repeated.
He let out a loud sigh, leaning against the chipped vinyl counter. "Go home, William. You're wasting my damn money by skipping school."
YOU ARE READING
He Bleeds Flame ✔️
Romance(bxb) After a year of surviving an all boys boarding school, William Brown thought he had finally navigated the ups and downs that the rich, private school had to offer. He'd even managed to make a few friends, as well as a rightful enemy. Lucien Ha...
