Anger stirs in your heart as you drag the dead boy to the lakeshore. You stare at him for a moment, giving a silent eulogy before taking your leave. Try looking for a place with a cross.
The bastard is probably waiting with that smug smile on his face, pretending he’s the saint and you’re the crazy one for not believing in him. How many deaths will be on your hands if you don’t stop him now? Who will believe your side of the story if you ever told them?
The game is going downhill. You have to quit.
A church can be seen in the distance, the cross in front of it shining like a beacon in the night. Your feet move; slowly at first, then soon gaining momentum as the cross becomes closer in your field of vision. The thought of finally seeing Spencer gives you strength; the thought of bashing his brains in gives you courage. You keep running through the streets even though your pants are soaked, eyes darting left to right in hopes of seeing the boy with shaggy hair.
You push the church doors open as soon as you reach it. There aren’t many people there; all you see are a few volunteers and people coming in to pray. Despite the serenity, you open your mouth and scream, “Spencer! Come out! I know you’re here somewhere!”
The church falls dead silent. All eyes are on you. Nonetheless, you continue your search, looking in every nook and cranny while screaming his name. You travel down the stairs leading to the basement despite the protests, yelling for Spencer while searching every room.
But he’s nowhere to be found.
Try looking for a place with a cross.
“Hey!” somebody calls from behind you. “Hey, you! Would you quit it? You’re in a church, for crying out loud!”
You spin on your heels, nearly tackling the lady behind you. Yet she stands her ground, arms folded across her chest as she knocks you down with her eyes.
“Have you seen him?” you ask her, unsure of what answer you’re expecting. “Has he been here already?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Are you helping him or something?”
“Listen,” she says, raising her voice. “You can’t be yelling anyhow in here. Now who are you looking for? Is it the Spencer you’ve been crying about?”
The sound of his name leaving another’s lips sends new waves of emotions through you, rocking you about here and there until your legs give away. The woman catches you mid fall, guiding you slowly to the ground where you bury your face in your hands.
“I don’t know what to do anymore. I want to leave but he’s got me tied up and I can’t even tell anyone about it. I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s a mess.”
The woman sits silent for a moment too long, leaving you alone with your thoughts. After a while, she finally sighs and stands, looking down with her hands on her hips.
“Tell you what: you don’t have to say who Spencer is and why you’re in a church looking for him. I don’t need to know any of it. But in return, let me get you some tea. At least until you’re calm enough to think rationally. Is that all right with you?”
You think about it for a moment before nodding, rising to your feet. You aren’t sure if the decision you’re making is the correct choice, or if Spencer’s watching you at this moment. Nonetheless, you follow the lady up the stairs and out of the church, falling into the grips of her aimless conversation.
~~~
“So Spencer…does he owe you money or something? You look like the type of person who has people owing them money.”
YOU ARE READING
Kill Your Darlings
Mystery / ThrillerBefore Spencer Crest left, he called you ‘doc’. He was your favourite patient, and in return, you were his favourite psychiatrist. You understood him in a way nobody else could. You didn’t know where he came from, who his parents were, or how he kne...
