City Of Horror.

Chapter 3- The COHDA

Chapter 3: The COHDA.

All day Andrew had been sat down on his wooden stool, agitated, waiting desperately for 6:00 to arrive. He paced around the room, checking the clock every ten seconds, the flutter of panic in his stomach whenever he thought he was too late. He couldn't stop eating, he was either biting chocolate bars or nibbling at his nails or chewing his tongue. The telly was humming quietly in the background of his thoughts, and oh, he was so nervous about what he was going to be doing for the next few months.

   Andrew intended today to be a day where he got to know each of the six people, and they him. He could only guess everything about them, not knowing for sure if they were entirely sure. After seeing the strange girl's scars on her wrist he could only guess that some sort of major depression had hit her in her life... but why would have she stopped cutting? What would have given her a good enough reason to stop killing herself?

   Maybe it was the news of one of the three boy's death that upset her, and she wanted to go too? Maybe she stopped so she could join this and help destroy what kill him? Maybe something else?

   After an agonizing wait, five to six finally arrived. Bursting with impatience he practically somersaulted of his stool and to the coat hanger. He grabbed his box of the City of Horror things and his bagged sleeping bag, stuffed it inside his coat and ran out the door, grabbing his keys from the inside lock whilst doing so.

   Yet again Andrew sat down on the bench and waited for what seemed a long time, biting his low-cut fingernails and tapping his feet on the ground. Only two of the six people came round the corner tonight, and only one approached Andrew.

   "We didn't want to make it look suspicious, so only two of us came. Us two will walk ahead while Eddie follows behind." He said in hushed tones to Andrew.

   "Who's Eddie?" Andrew asked. He honestly didn't know any of their names, except Jack. The boy grinned.

   "Of course you wouldn't know our names, so stupid of me. I'm Matthew. But don't call me that, call me Matty." He told him. Andrew stood up and they walked slowly together, not talking.

   "Should I keep my eyes open so I remember the route?" Andrew asked.

   "Yes, that seems a good idea," Matty replied. Silence, again. Once they were round the corner, Matty removed his hood and Andrew recognised him from the night before.

   He was the one who looked a lot like the girl who kept questioning him, the strange one. His hair was black and messy, up to his shoulders. He was pale and had dark bags under his eyes. He looked very depressed for some reason. Andrew didn't want to pry but really wanted to find out what was upsetting him. His hair looked like it hadn't been taken care of for weeks, just washed and left there, not cut, just left there to dry and grow.

   "Are... are you alright?" Andrew asked. It seemed the safest way to say it. Matty sighed.

   "No. No, I'm not. Nick was my brother. We were like that," He crossed his fingers whilst saying so. "Inseparable. The news was... horrible. I had a tough time dealing with it. So did my parents. I didn't have any one to look after me, to put food on my table, to do my washing, I had to live for myself, like it was just me living on my own. Yes, their bodies were there, but I think their minds were somewhere else. They wouldn't eat. They wouldn't respond. My mother was first to go, buried next to Nick... my dad is being looked after in a care home. He's gone kinda mad." He said sadly. It was obvious that Matty was hiding how sad he really was, acting tough, not wanting to be known as weak.

   "You're on your own?" Andrew asked.

   "Yes... it's tough." Matty sighed as they walked through the park. Andrew hesitated. He didn't mind the idea of a flatmate; it would mean half the rent, and maybe more money on food?