"Drown" by Seafret
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Sunday: October 30, 1994
9:29 AM
Waking up in Scott's bedroom was strange. For a moment I forgot where I was, but then I looked up at his star-coated ceiling.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. When I looked over to Scott's bed, I found it was empty and unmade. I pulled myself off the floor to go find him.
As soon as I passed through his door, I could smell bacon. I followed the scent and the sound of the sizzle until I reached the kitchen, where I discovered Scott working over a stove. He looked up at me and half smiled.
"Morning," he said with a wink. "I made breakfast for two, forgetting that you can't, you know, eat. Sorry."
I laughed. "It's fine, Scott. I appreciate the thought."
I was being modest. I wished I could eat now more than ever. The smell of the bacon and sight of his scrambled eggs made my mouth water. But aside from that, it was actually kind of nice never getting hungry. It was convenient, but I did miss eating.
I thought about my favorite food: Hawaiian pizza. Oh god, I would never taste it again. The thought crushed me.
Scott must've noticed the pain in my expression. "You okay?" he asked.
I nodded quickly. "I'm fine," I lied.
"So my dad never made it home last night," he explained. "He's still stuck at the station. Mind if I bring him some breakfast?"
"Yeah, no problem. What's today's game plan?"
He flipped over the sizzling bacon before answering. "We have a few hours before I head to work, so I was thinking the library would be a good start. We could see what we can dig up on Morrigan and witches and all that. I could try using the computer to see if anything comes up."
I nodded. "Sounds perfect."
He finished up cooking breakfast and choked his portion down in less than two minutes. He put the rest on a plate and wrapped it up for his dad. Hardly a few minutes later, we were both seated in his truck, heading across town to the police station.
It was once we reached Chestnut Street that my eyes quickly landed on Karen. She was walking down the sidewalk, textbooks in hand. I remembered that she'd signed up to tutor some of the younger students on Saturdays, so that must have been where she was headed. She was always looking for some volunteer work to occupy her time.
"You miss her, yeah?"
I looked over at him, but his eyes were back on the road. He was surprisingly observant for such an introvert. I never said anything to him about Karen, so he must have noticed us together when I was still alive.
"I do," I finally answered. "A lot."
"Carrie, isn't it?"
"Karen," I corrected him with the ghost of a smile. "She's been my best friend since preschool."
He glanced at me with tight lips. "She must be hurting pretty bad too."
My eyes stung with the threat of tears. If it had been Karen instead of me, I would've been a wreck. I couldn't imagine a life with her gone. She must have been feeling awful.
Scott cleared his throat. "So," he said in an obvious attempt to change the subject. "Just another few blocks to the station. You like music?"
I nodded. "What kind do you listen to?"
He smiled only a half smile. "You know, AC/DC, Metallica, Iron Maiden—that kind of stuff."
"Yeah, I've heard them. I have an AC/DC album actually."
"Really? I didn't peg you for a rock fan."
I shrugged. "My taste varies."
He turned on the radio for the short block and a half we had left before reaching our destination. We pulled into the station, and it only took a second for me to notice how completely deserted the parking lot was. "Where is everyone?" I asked out loud.
"Maybe they got called out, but it'd have to be something big for everyone to have gone," Scott explained.
Together we went inside, and he stepped up to the female officer on desk duty to ask, "Becca, is my dad in? I have breakfast."
She glanced up from whatever she was typing out only for a moment before going back to her work. "Sorry, Scott. Everyone's been out all morning. Not sure I'm supposed to tell you this, but we have another missing kid."
Scott and I shared a look, both obviously shocked. "Who is it?" he questioned the officer.
"Jason Byers, actually. He was Samantha's boyfriend. A few of the other officers are guessing he killed her, didn't want to get caught so he's hit the road."
"Is that what you think?"
She stopped typing to look up at him again. "If I'm honest, no. This feels different, not like your typical murder. There's something about this case we haven't learned yet. Either way, I think this Byers kid is in trouble."
"When was he last seen?" Scott pressed.
"Sometime last night. His folks said he went out for a drive, never came back."
"Did he say where he was going?"
She shrugged. "Just for a drive."
"What kind of car was he driving?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You really took after your father, Scott. You sound just like him."
"I just want to help," he answered anxiously.
She nodded, as if approving his answer. "He drove a white 1990 Ford Escort. There's no sign of it anywhere in town so far."
Scott pursed his lips. "Thanks, Becca. I'll keep an eye out for it."
We left the station and sat in his car in silence a moment, both wrapping our heads around this. Had Jason been taken and possibly killed by the same witches who murdered me? It was no coincidence he was missing now. I just hoped he wasn't like me right now—a ghost.
"We need to find him," I decided. "I know he's still here. He wouldn't just run off. And he didn't murder me. I know he didn't."
"I believe you," Scott said, his expression still distant like he was struggling to find an explanation. I could tell he was coming up just as dry as me. "Could he have been at the wrong place at the wrong time like you?"
"It's possible. I mean, would the witches perform their weird ritual anywhere other than the cemetery? If not, he must have been there to have been killed like me."
"We can't be sure he was killed by the witches like you. At least, not until we find his body too."
We finally locked eyes, and I could see the gears working behind his. "To Maple Grove?" I asked.
"To Maple Grove," he answered.
I stood on the same hill where I remembered taking my final breath. A chilling wind swept over me, raising goosebumps on my arms and neck. In my mind, the image of crows—hundreds of them—filled every tree branch above. I remembered the crippling fear I felt when they started to swoop down at me, attacking me with their claws and beaks.
I never thought much of how I would die, but at the hands of murderous witches wasn't my first guess.
"No sign of him," Scott said, climbing the hill behind me. "I was thinking, maybe you should check out Jason's house while I'm at work. Maybe you can find a clue or something in his room. What do you think?"
"Actually, I already had the same thought," I admitted. "Jason was on his way somewhere. If he was really just going for a drive, the witches wouldn't have caught him. He made a stop somewhere. There has to be some kind of clue in his room. If he's really missing, I need to figure it out fast. Think you can drop me off on your way to work?"
"Easy," he replied, staring up at the cloudy gray sky. It looked like it was about to rain. "Let's get going."