Chapter four

Chris stood frozen in the wood, staring down at the then dead body, his breath long since stopped. The man's mouth was gaped open, and his eyes remained glassed over, as if it were to flood with glossy tears, they were dim as his soul departed, going to some far off place. The blood was soaking through to his top, staining the faded red with crimson.

Chris's feet staggered back, his heart beating, pulling down towards his gut. His teeth chattered, and his skin pricked with goosebumps. He shook his head viciously, his eyes felt all too dry, his palms sweating. His breath came out as controlled and guided, his legs weakened, shuddering. He gulped, as his feet steadily took one step after another back, till he was complete round, walking fast away from the man. Chris ran, running, advancing on the forest floor, his legs crackling and stomping down on the dead wildlife, as his heart thumped in his chest, knocking on his rib cage. And he did not stop till he saw the black paved road. It was cold and welcoming on his bare feet, that swelled with heat. He hiked up the long road through the town, traveling up the hill, not taking note of the still quiet houses at his side. His feet bled as he approached his home, ringing the doorbell as the porch light switched on, shining a spotlight onto Chris's stark face.

Amy answered the door, her eyes in shock as she saw Chris, lingering at his eyes, her lips parted as an astonished expression took to her eyes.

"C-Chris?" she stuttered, frowning blinking her eyes, her fingers to her temple, her face shadowing away from Chris's face "what happened to you, and why aren't you wearing any-" Chris shoved past his sister, walking into the lounge picking up the landline. "Chris!" She yelled, "don't ignore me when I'm talking to-"

Chris began inputting a number into the phone, dialing it.

"Hello?" He croaked, "er-yes, i like to report a dead body. Yeah, in the woods. Okay I'll hold." He waited a moment, "yes," he answered into the phone, "yes, yes." Then he paused, his grip tightening on the white phone. He took the phone away from his ear, then swiftly hung up. He looked down at the phone for a while.

"Um, Chris are you okay?" Amy asked.

"Shower," he said.

"What?"

"I need a shower," he said more urgently, pushing past his sister again, running up the stairs, rushing through to the bathroom, crashing against the close slammed door, locking it. His upper body rested on the chipped wood, as he exhaled.

Quickly he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his jeans and boxers, climbing into the bathtub, turning the taps on and holding up the shower head to his body. He quivered fully as the hot water traveled down his body, his head hanging low. His breath fogged onto the titles in front of him, as he began to whimper, weeping warm tears, as they mixed and joined the dripping water. His arms lent on the wall, he coughed, letting out grappling breaths. The water felt slick on his skin, soft and calming, a shield protecting his body, wrapping around every inch. He could see that glimmer travel over his skin. Chris guided his right hand to his chest, feeling the beats thrashing in his center. His eyes flowed down to the drain, watching as water passed through.

Minutes passed and Chris began to hear banging against the door. His head turned,

“Hurry up, I need to piss!” Grace yelled.

Chris stood in the bathtub for a moment, not moving a nerve, reveling in the water's warm hold.

“Christopher!” she screamed.

Chris slumped his shoulders, turning off the shower, and climbing out. On the bathroom floor, he could see footprints of blood left behind by his feet, he sat on the side of the bath, examining a foot at a time, seeing many cuts sliced onto his soles. He brought a towel over damping it with cold water, cleaning the wounds. He hissed in breath, as he dabbed the towel on his skin.

“Christopher!” Grace shouted, knocking harder on the wood.

Chris sighed again, dropping the damp towel and picking up a fresh one, drying his body over, then quickly changing back into his clothes. He unlocked the door pulling it open with a swing of his arm. Grace tapped her foot impatiently against the floorboards, her arms crossed.

“Why didn’t you use the down stairs?” he asked.

“Micheal is in it.” she spoke as if it were a common fact. “Well?” she looked down at Chris, for a moment her face softened as she gazed into his eyes, but quickly snapped out of it, her face hardening again, “move.” she ordered.

Chris walked awkwardly past his older sister, squeezing past a gap next to her. She slammed the bathroom door violently after he finally passed through.

Chris turned in the direction of his room, seeing the loft's latch open and the ladder down. His father sat on the second to last step. He looked up, seeing Chris, smiling, “Ah your back, i had heard you leaving a while ago.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. He gave his father an odd look pointing up to the loft.

“Oh,” his dad said with understanding after a moment, “your mothers trying to find the missing piece of her puzzle. Going crazy over, i’m sort of scared to sleep in the same bed with her tonight.” he looked over his son, scanning over his throat then to his hands, to his feet. “Er,” he started cautiously, “you wouldn’t know anything about the bloodied footprints on the floors and stairs, would you?” he asked.

Chris griped his other arm, looking to his side, shrugging silently.

“Are you sure?” he said dullily.

Chris switched his head to his feet, he gulped. “I honestly don’t know. I’m a bit tired, think i’m gonna head to bed.” he walked past his father before he could say anything else to his son.

Chris fell onto his bed after he entered his room, his head turned up right, gazing to his window. The crescent moon gleaming into the room in rays. Chris bite down on his teeth, getting up, roughly pulling the curtains together, blocking out the pleasant light. He fell back onto his bed smothering his face into naked bed sheets, not bothering to put on new pillow cases and covers, falling into a deep sleep.

✹✹✹

Chris looked into the window of a passing shop, shoes displayed on high and low platforms, glancing at his reflection. He saw the dark bags circling his eyes, his skin the colour curdled milk, a crisp contrast to his vibrant teal eyes, glistening back and forth between greens and blues, all but blending together, his lips dried and chapped. He looked down to his throat, feeling the scarred over marks, it amazed and frightened the boy, it had healed overnight leaving the light blemishes around his neck. His fingers trailed over the bumps with a feather touch, his wet hands cooling his throat in the process, he tugged his hand back to his side. He went to sit down on a bench on the pier, watching the near empty sand beach, across. He listened to the high squeak of the aged pier as people strolled past, couples, parents holding hands with their small children, or pushing prams with squealing infants inside, retired man walking their excited and hyper dogs and teenagers in uniform eating chips and giggling with one another, skipping whatever lesson they may have had at the time. He sprinkled some tobacco on a rolling paper, pulling it out from a packet in his bag, licking the edge like an overdue envelope. He tried to spark his lighter, covering his hands over the searing flame, finally igniting his cigarette. Chris puffed out the smoke after a moment, allowing the fumes to sit in his throat.

It was late morning verging into the boiling afternoon, it was hot for September, almost sweltering, the sun frying every inch of skin it could find on Chris. He breathed out, finally relaxing, seeing the smoke dissipate in the air. His head fell back past the benches head, watching in an upside down world, the scene around him, the bud of his cigarette in between his fingers. He lifted back up, gazing at the calm sea, it had always left Chris with an ache in his chest, the feeling seemed to only expand larger the more he stared. When his cigarette was near done, he felt hands jump on his shoulders, as he jerked forward in alarm. His head rotated round, seeing Matius, his eyes rolled tiredly down to face Chris, he looked ready to lay down and die, he groaned as he fell on the bench, his head resting on Chris's shoulder.

"I think I'm dying" he rasped. "Why'd i do this to myself?" he sounded as if he were to cry.

Chris patted him unnerving, "you're fine." He told him.

"How do we know that Chris? How? We can't tell the future."

"You're just on a come down you twat, not the end of the world."

Matius sighed, shifting himself to be more comfortable, his head snuggling into Chris. "How are you?" He asked.

"Fine," Chris spoke sternly, not having the heart to push Matius away. He dropped what was left of his cigarette onto the pier floor, stamping it with one of the tips of his shoes.

"I got two lessons today," Matius randomly said, "I don't think I can do history, though I may be able to get away with sleeping in art."

"Then just skip it."

"Can't," he answered. "Have too many alerts, one more, i'll have to go in for a meeting about my attendance."

"They won't kick you out, unless you're failing your subjects."

Matius hummed, "did you sleep last night? You look exhausted."

"It's complicated," he said, not wanting to say more.

Matius looked at him with doubt, "nothing's complicated."

"The Walsh's family tree is."

"With the amount of inbreeding it has to be." He paused going quiet for a minute, "just tell me."

Chris sighed. "I found a body last night."

Matius didn't look at all shocked, "Is that why the forest is closed?"

Chris nodded,

"Ah," he said as if something finally made sense. They were silent for a bit, looking out to the sea.

"I think i saw a person." Chris said weakly.

"What? Are you sure?" Matius questioned, turning to look at Chris.

"I don't know," he groaned, "there was a woman, she had blood all over her, her mouth splattered in it, she wasn't wearing anything. But she just didn't look-" he gulped, "-look right."

Matius melted down on the bench, his leg flailing on the pier, his finger swiped across his left eyebrow. "Maybe you were still on molly, just seeing things. that happens in the dark."

"She was eating him, the body, Matius."

Matius shrugged, "i dunno," he sounded tired, "maybe you did,"

"I fucking hope not. But it just kept playing in my mind last night, I couldn't sleep."

"Told your parents?"

"No," Chris laughed, "they'd make me go down to the police station to give a proper report."

"That is not what you want to do on a Tuesday night, besides the night officer is shit, I'm pretty sure he's deaf cause every time I go in there he makes me repeat my words five times."

"Whatever, i just want to forget it."

Matius didn't say anything, only leaning his head on Chris again, promptly falling asleep, his mouth open, a snore erupting out.

‘Forget,’ he told himself again, ‘forget, and never think of it again.’ but he could not, and so after walking and making sure Matius got to his history lesson, Chris searched for a quiet isolated place, finding an abandoned flight of stairs, sitting at top of the steps. Researching on his phone, he looked for an article on the body found last night, not much information was in the article about incident he unearthed, the police disclosing the least amount of details, other than who the man was, a twice divorced fifty year old, five kids, and an house, a three minute walk away to the woods. he was a gardener at the manor house, worked there for thirty one years, and it seemed his father past had worked as an gardener there too, and so had his father, as if ran in the family. The article went on speculating the unfortunate man had been murdered whilst walking his dog. But Chris remembered the scene, there was no sign of a dog, no leash, the man didn't look like he was on a stroll, he didn't wear a coat or jacket, something anyone would do at that time of night, so close to the coast. He found another link to an article similar, about the girl found on that Monday, she younger than the man found that night, she in her mid-twenties. He began finding more articles and news stories from local papers about familiar things, dating all the way back to two thousand and seven, but Chris suspected it went further. Without a thought he jumped up from where he sat, and rushed down the stairs, heading out of the college grounds, and through the gates. He sped through town, bumping into many people on his way. He stopped when he came to the small library, a one floor building, next to the community center.

He walked through the automatic doors, his legs bolting to the reception desk. The chair was empty of any person, he looked through the office door, seeing a woman standing still eating a biscuit and sipping from a coffee mug.

“Um, excuse me,” he signaled with his hand.

The woman turned her beak nose, looking startled by Chris, she lingered, staring dumbly at his eyes, looking enchanted. She stopped, “oh,” she laughed anxiously, in a sudden, “sorry, didn’t see you there, just me, me a sec, yeah?” she quickly downed her tea, stuffing the biscuit into her mouth, there was a short moment Chris was worried the women would choked, but she merely coughed it away, drinking the rest of her tea, she made a pained face telling Chris that the drink she downed was indeed very hot, and she had just burnt her throat and tongue, she breathed out, tongue hanging out from her lips. She placed down her mug, turning once more to Chris, smiling. “Sorry.” she apologized. “What is it that i can help you with?”

“Do you keep old newspapers?”

“From what year?”

“All of them,” he replied.

“Oh,” she smiled strangely, “i’m sure i can help you out with that,”

She guided Chris through the library to the very back, gesturing for him to sit down at a table, as she moved into a backroom. She came back minutes later with a box, “these are the newspapers through the nineties, i’ll just go grab the other boxes, there's about twenty or so, i would give you the pin for the door so you can go get them yourself, but that violates policy here.”

“I thought you would have an archive on a computer system.” he said.

“We’ve started, but I.T. Keeps finding new problems, it’s been months.” she complained.

Chris nodded, “well thanks anyway.”

She smiled, “your welcome, hardly anyone comes in here, except the elderly. It’s been slow lately, I'm just glad to be doing something.” she walked away again bringing box after box till twenty were piled on the table.

“So what are-if you don’t mind me asking? you looking for?” she asked, placing the last box down.

“I’m looking into all murders and dead mutilated bodies over the years,” he answered, digging straight into one of the boxes, carrying out a pill of papers.

The woman nodded awkwardly, “right, okay, i’ll just,” she paused, looking down at him, “leave you to it.” she raced away from Chris, who grew busy, scanning a newspaper clipping...