Nightwalker

Eighteen

Riordan

I've never been a fan of Saturday's for a couple of reasons.

1. My Mother passed away on a Saturday Morning.

2. Reason number 1.

What makes this particular Saturday extra jarring for me is the homecoming game tonight, and Rugby was always my Mom's thing.

I try to pretend I don't see her shining smile behind the glass passing the trophy case at school, or even the banner memorial the principal had put up for her in our school's gymnasium.

A part of me struggles to understand why I can't see her in the halls the way I see Amalia.

If I'm the literal sole being that can see the dead, then why isn't she one of them?

Maybe it's because she was truly content and didn't need to haunt anyone. Maybe it's because she doesn't want me to worry.

I stare at my mothers journal, upset that my Mother isn't here to guide me through all of this.

I hug my knees in bed, looking out my window, hoping for some peace to work its way through my mind. The evening sky broke into dawn finally, turning it a burnt orange color.

My eyes struggled to stay open, replaying the content of the nightmare I woke up out of. The cycle has come full circle, and a new victim of death is under way.

I don't know them personally, but I do know they probably go to Cyrus or live in the Solaris community.

His name is Christian, which I know because he was found by his Mom who frantically screamed his name as he laid in a pool of his own blood.

It only took one fatal gun shot wound to the chest to end his life. He appeared to look like a senior, or maybe just graduated high school.

I struggle to make out his face in my mind as my drowsiness catches up with me again. I was in desperate need of sleep, but also ached to write down every detail I remembered, desperately wanting to feel closer to my Mom.

I hadn't read through the entire moleskin journal yet. It was inviting to hear her voice without her being present.

I flip to a untampered page and grab a pen from my bedside table. I hover over the page and as my thoughts flow, I begin to write down everything I can remember.

He was wearing a light green shirt on his decease day, he's blond. Crystal blue eyes and a small beauty mark on his chin. Incredible stature, perhaps a sport prodigy from all the medals hung on his wall.

He was shot outside in his driveway, and somehow made it inside probably looking for help, and collapsed in the living room where his mother found him later when she arrived home from work.

That's all I could remember, so I capped my pen and reclined back into bed, covering myself like my blanket could protect me from the next few days.

It'd been a long time since I felt utterly hopeless, and I'm starting to feel the exact same as the night I couldn't save Caleb Green.

Before I could let my thoughts continue to race and my panic consume me, I drifted off.

——

Thor

A pit found its home in my stomach since Danny left my car yesterday night.

Despite the choices she made yesterday, I shouldn't have been so hard on her. I knew I had no right to tell her how to approach her ability, as if I knew exactly what she was going through.