Duskwood: You are all that matters. COMPLETED

Chapter 15.

WN: Hello, I sincerely apologise for updating really late. I got knocked off by life and somehow I wasn't able to continue this fic but thank God, I finally managed to write this chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter and hopefully this makes sense and thank you for reading this. I appreciate it so much and once again, I'm deeply sorry for updating really late.

Trigger warning: violence.

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"There weren't just two people involved in the incident back then." He takes a pause, "there were three." Before I managed to ask what the hell he is talking about, the man in front of me is taking off the ugly mask he is wearing and making his face is fully exposed. In the middle of dark forest with the limited light source, I unfortunately can still see his familiar face clearly which looks worn out with the obtrusive stubble and tiring eye bags.

I'm crushed.

Have you ever heard about Elisabeth Kübler-Ross? She was a psychiatrist and one of her great contributions in this world is her theory about five stages of grief. Those stages are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally an acceptance. These stages are our attempts to accept the change, the reality that hits hard, the loss we have been through, and our effort to adapt with the hurting truth. To summarise, it's basically saying the process to accept what it's unacceptable.

And I think I'm already in the first stage; denial.

I'm confusedly looking at the man in front of me. Richy Rogers. He is avoiding eye-contact with the clenched jaw. Is he feeling guilty? Feeling shame? Humiliated? I don't know. I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. I don't even know if what it's in front of me is real or just a product of my stress. I don't know... I don't want to know anymore.

"Ten years ago," he finally is speaking after the silence between us. His breath is slow and hard. "Hannah and Amy showed up on my doorstep." He is taking glance at me before looking away again. "Pine Glade was almost over. Stuck already. They wanted me to drive them to Grimrock because Amy lost something there... I can't even remember what it was," he quietly scoffs. "I had been at the festival the whole day, I was drunk." He let out the dry laugh then looks at me. "I had a couple of drinks... I said no... but they insisted... they were in a hurry... they already made this huge detour to get to me so... and I had been driving around our yard a couple of times... so, I gave them the key to an old AMC Gremlin—one that should have been scrapped a couple days later. So I thought, there is no harm in that."

"Right?" He shrugs then look at me; asking for my judgement probably, but I'm not sure if that's his intention. because before I managed to response, he already throw his gaze at somewhere else again. There is a long pause between us, this time his face look more tensed. The atmosphere around him somehow is also changing; it becomes heavier than before. I know where this is going.

"A couple of minutes they showed up again... and I almost didn't recognise the car." He is trailing off, "there was blood on the windshield... there was blood on the bumper..."

No, no. Stop talking.

"And none of them were capable to as much as other to sing a word. I thought they must have hit an animal—some deer that jumped in front of the car. So, I drove them to the spot..." he is taking a deep breath.

Please stop.

"And there she was... a girl... covered in blood... lifeless." He let out a quiet sigh. "We buried it in the forest... we never spoke a word of that again..." he is slowly putting his gaze on me, I'm still unable to understand that expression. "I'm sorry."