“Who?”

There was silence. I watched him as he turned his head away from my eyes. I sat there watching him, and he turned his entire body away. He was muttering to himself and biting at his thumb. Suddenly his head snapped up towards the door, like he heard something, but the house was still.

“Ar-“

“You need to leave. You’re making a mess.” He scoffed

I looked down at my blood-stained hands and can see my prints on the floor, pressed on the edge of the tub, and Tasha’s face. He waves his hand in my direction and suddenly I don’t feel the cold pressure of the tub against my back or the hard tile against my thighs.

“What?”

I look around and see that I am outside of a graveyard. My house is a far walk from here, but I can’t ride a bus with all of this blood. I look down at my hands, but there was no blood in sight. There is no blood anywhere, my hands look as though they were scrubbed clean. It had to have been him. Who is he? What is he? What am I? I push myself off of the ground to start my trip home.

When I finally get home, my feet ache and my eyes burn from the lack of sleep. The front door is locked, and I throw my head back as I let out a groan. I climb the fence and walk through the backyard. I sigh as I try the backdoor and see that it is also locked. Turning my head, I see my only option awaits me. I sluggishly walk to the shed and give a sigh of relief as the doors open. I swipe all of the tools onto the floors and stretch out on the long work bench. I close my eyes and let the darkness comfort me.

Heavy breathing and muffled cries fill my dreams. I feel a hand close around my mouth and I jolt awake. Gulping in deep breaths of air, I look around for someone. There was no one else in the room with me. I run my hand through my hair and lay back down. What was Tasha trying to show me. I turn over onto my side and hunch close to the wall, so I don’t fall off. I can’t sleep, so I lie there with burning eyes until the shed door opens. I hear footsteps, and then silence. A torso makes its way into my view, but I don’t move. A sigh is heard, and a warm hand pats me on the back.

“I’m guessing you heard the news?”

It was my dad. His deep voice spoke softly as if I would shatter if he were too loud. I look up at him, and his pale blue eyes stare softly into my green ones. His rough hands cards through my hair.

“You don’t have to go to school, but you can’t stay out here.” He grunts as he takes my arm and pulls me up. I sit up before sliding off the bench. I stagger towards the house; dad was on my side supporting me.

Once we make it through the door, the smell of waffles hit me. I look up at the sound of utensils hitting bare linoleum. My mom gasps before rushing over to me and I stand still as she envelopes me. I breathe in her scent; she smells like vanilla candles and rainwater. It’s probably because of all the candles she lights.

“Mason.” She breathes, “We’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?”

She holds me back to look into my eyes. I stare into her soft brown eyes filling with relief-soaked tears, and suddenly her brown eyes aren’t hers anymore, they’re Tasha’s. My eyes burn more, and tears start to fall, I hug Tasha’s body to mine tightly and pull her head onto my shoulder. I sniff deeply, but the scent isn’t Tasha’s normal mint green tea aroma. No, it’s those candles, and the hair I’m threading my fingers through isn’t long tight coils, it’s short wavy hair.

“I just found him in the shed. He must’ve heard Sheryl and James call and took a walk.”

She hugs me tighter as my arms go limp. She begins to comb her fingers through my own hair. “I’m so sorry.” She hums.

I shrug her off and stumble my way up to my bedroom. I collapse onto my bed, in hopes that being in my own bed would lull me to sleep. I was wrong.

I jolt awake for the fifth time in a row. My skin was coated in sweat and tears. I take deep heaving breaths, trying to bring oxygen into my lungs. I shake my head as more tears flow from my eyes, my own conscious tears.

“Please.” I cry out throwing my head back against the cold, wet pillow, “No more.”