My head is swarming with horrid memories and amid the nightmares is his smile, his consoling smile that everything would be all right. The images don’t line up with the reality. His whispers that everything’s going to be okay clash with the screams that prove it’s not.
It’s not all right. And it’s because of me.
From somewhere deep within the weak voice whispers to run, but my small hand clings to the worn brick on the edge of the building I’m tucked behind. As if holding on to it will keep me from being seen. The tight grip doesn’t allow me to escape. For a moment, I consider turning back and yelling at the boy I left behind. The door was unlocked and open. If he’s still there …
They’ll kill him too. They’ll do so much worse than that.
A staggered breath doesn’t fulfill any need for oxygen. The memories suffocate me, knowing what they’ll do if he doesn’t run like I did. I can’t move an inch in the freezing cold. The wind howls as I stare down a row of houses lining the quiet street.
In my mind, we were so far away from anyone who could help. But as I steady my breath, I see nothing but houses. I can’t remember if we screamed for help, but I know we screamed in pain. If only I’d screamed louder. My chest is hollow and my head dizzy.
They were so close. So many people. Several cars are parked along the street.
One is missing a tire, and as I stare at it, my gaze is caught by two men perched on a stoop.
Like me, their hoodies practically swallow their lanky bodies, but the two men are tall and older. Just as I see them, they notice me. “Hey kid!” one calls out. He’s got an unkempt beard streaked with enough white that I can see it from here, and a questioning gaze in his eyes.
Frozen and paralyzed, I don’t speak until both of them stand. My mind struggles with the fact they’re just on the other side of the street. They were so close. How could they have been so close?
“Are you all right?” The second man yells out the question before elbowing the other, and both of them start down the steps.
They’re coming for me, but I don’t know them. More importantly, they may have known. They could be lookouts for all I know.
“Kid, you okay? You need help?” they question, jogging across the street and heading right for me.
Some form of an answer begs to escape, but I can’t respond. All I can think is that maybe they did hear, maybe they knew. Maybe they’re going to send me back.
I can’t think, I can’t answer, I can’t do anything but run.
I need to speak first, though. Just in case they’re truly unaware, they need to know about the other boy, but the words don’t come. How can I speak the truth when it kills me even to think of what happened?
I think of Marcus and what he’d say. He’d be brave enough.
My jaw is sore when I yell out, “The yellow house! They’re in the yellow house on the corner!”
It’s enough, just run!
The voice isn’t my own and I take off as the two older men, only feet away, exchange puzzled glances. The alleyway is narrow, far too narrow for them to follow me, but I dart through the darkness, my bare feet stumbling over broken bottles, trash and muck. I would run through the fires of hell to get away, to be far away from all this.
I can’t bear the thought of being back there and telling them what happened.
Telling them what I did and what happened because of it.
Run. Just run.
I run as far as I can. I run to what I thought was his home. I was wrong.
I was wrong about entirely too much.
Cody
“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me,” Skov hisses, slapping the papers off the steel table.
“That’s what the lieutenant said.” From where I sit in the steel chair, the shrug of Detective Gallinger’s shoulders appears nonchalant. I know better.
I watch the two men argue in hushed tones, one standing in the hallway leading to the interrogation room and the former barely a foot inside. His white-knuckled grip on the door and bitter inflection have me on edge. Even if they’re being forced to release me, Skov could pull some shit and keep me here. Trapped in this room, I’m useless. With every second that ticks