Evaughn clutched the strap of his bag, facing
the tiles underneath his shoes. Otherwise, he'd be looking at the headmaster who was currently stupefied.

"Dropping out? Evaughn, that's a... a big decision to make. You're doing really well in your classes, and the semester is almost finished. Why do you want to drop out?"

"I can't tell you why," he replied quietly.

"Okay... Well, why don't we contact your uncle to talk about this first?"

"I'm sorry, Headmaster Chen. I have to go."

Evaughn left the office and with it, a stuttering headmaster. It was the same reaction he received from Kayin Mensah when he handed her a resignation letter.

He made a left turn and his eyeballs shifted when he saw someone standing there. The guy wore a jersey in place of his blazer, marking him as a football player. It must've been a game day.

Evaughn couldn't tell whether the athlete had been listening in on their conversation. He didn't care to find out, though.

Once outside, he hopped onto his bike and propelled himself forward. Skillfully letting one hand go, he reached into the pocket of his blazer to pull out a folded piece of paper.

20 Birchwood Avenue. It was the address he'd scribbled down the night prior.

He brought to mind a mental map of his town and followed the shortest route to that house. There was one last thing he needed to do.

~

The time between his push against the doorbell and the opening of its door was quite long. Evaughn figured it was from the clatter on the other side of where he was awkwardly standing.

The man who opened the door looked just as he expected. After all, Evaughn had found him through ChatConnect where he first messaged him.

Aside from that, he had the same piece of freckled skin that Sarah had. "Hey. Liam, right?"

Evaughn nodded. "Yeah."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Nate." He extended his hand to which the boy shook. "Come on in."

"Thank you." Evaughn followed behind the man, stopping to take his shoes off.

"Sorry for the mess of toys. I have a three-year-old."

The said three-year-old was currently occupied with miniature cars, trucks, and racetracks on the ground, pausing only briefly to give Evaughn a curious look.

"Have a seat at the sofa. Make yourself comfortable." Nate cleared off the coffee table by pushing aside a pile of Lego pieces. "Water?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks."

"Here you go." Nate lowered himself onto a single-seater across from him while sliding a glass of water his way. "I'll be honest, when you messaged me yesterday, I didn't believe what you were saying."

Evaughn raised a shoulder. "I get it."

"It's been years since my little sister passed away, so it's hard to believe that after searching so long, I'll finally hear the truth from a teenager I know nothing about. No offense."

"N-None taken. I... you deserve to know what happened to her. I wouldn't feel right if I kept it to myself."

He nodded. "Remind me how you knew Sarah."

"She was my babysitter when I was little." Evaughn grabbed the glass with both hands. Not to drink, but to stop his hands from fidgeting so much. "She was my uncle's girlfriend, too."

"Right. I remember her telling me about the job. I wish I paid more attention to that boyfriend of hers."

"He's important in Sarah's story, but it's not his fault she died." Evaughn swiped a thumb over the glass. Back and forth. "I-It's mine."

It was easy to miss, the subtle clench of Nate's jaw.

"Th-that night, we tried to run away from him. We were almost at her car, but... then I started crying, and it slowed us down. He, well, stabbed her, and then threw her over a bridge, but in the end, it was me..." Evaughn finally made eye contact with Nate. "He caught up to us b-because of me. I'm so sorry."

Somewhere along the way, his jaw had unclenched. "Wait. How is...?"

"I gave us away." A teardrop landed inside the glass, creating a small ripple in the water. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

"Liam, from what I'm hearing, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. What were you, like, six?"

"You don't have to say that." He shook his head. "She would still be here if I had just shut up."

Nate leaned forward. "From what I'm hearing, none of it wasn't your fault, so stop blaming yourself."

But it was, Evaughn repeated in his head. Had he not cried, Sarah would've gotten into her car. Had Sarah gotten into the car, they would've escaped.

In the end, he pushed further no more.

"What's his name? Your uncle."

"There's... a reason I didn't tell you his name, just like there's a reason I used a fake name." He smiled crookedly. "I don't want you to try and take him to court, or anything."

Nate gradually leaned back in his sofa. "And why's that?"

"It isn't... safe."

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter," Evaughn began, turning to Nate's toddler who was blowing air from his mouth to imitate car sounds. "For your son's sake, I won't tell you his name. I think... you should live as long as you can for him."

It was apparent that Nate struggled to understand the latter part. He probably would've asked for clarity if his son didn't run into his arms then.

"Daddy." The child raised his arms. "I want piggy."

"Saylor, not now. I'm talking to someone."

"It's okay. That was all I came here to say." He stood from his seat. "Thank you for listening. I hope you feel even a little bit better knowing what happened to Sarah."

"Wait. Liam, or whatever your name is. Hold on."

"Daddy! Piggy!"

A heavy sigh, and then little Saylor was being hoisted up onto his dad's shoulders that he used as a seat.

Though halfway towards the door, Evaughn watched the scene intently. It brought back memories so foreign he could believe they belonged to another.

At that age, he, too, loved to sit atop shoulders.

Nate reached him at last, simultaneously balancing his son by the ankles. Saylor was using his dad's head as a racetrack by driving a car over it.

"I always wondered why every detective I went to couldn't settle her case. Did your uncle pull strings, or something?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"It does. She deserves justice, even if it's been years. I think you agree, I think... you're a good kid. Otherwise you wouldn't have bothered to find me." Nate let the words linger. "Am I right?"

"It's just not worth trying. You have a child, so... please don't risk your life." Evaughn turned around. He opened the door that was left unlocked.

Nate persisted, more desperate than before. "Our parents died not knowing the truth. We just knew she was never coming back. Am I going to die not knowing who killed her?"

"I told you it was me."

"Don't say that. I'm talking about that boyfriend. If he's still out there, of course I want to meet him."

"Doing that is risky. You... you probably won't make it out alive."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"Peek-a-boo!"

"Saylor."

Evaughn's breath caught. Even though he had his back turned, he could picture exactly what was happening—Saylor's palms playfully covering his dad's eyes. Within that picture, however, he saw a different pair.

His lip quivered.

Evaughn pulled open the door. His next phrase, followed quickly by his departure, left Nate with no room to reply.

"Little boys need their fathers."

~

Right as Evaughn turned his bike to the street his house was on, he pushed its brake lever. There was a stranger on his doorstep.

Not a mailman, not a delivery guy, and—he craned his neck since he was still about six houses away—not even a stranger.

It was the crooked moon.

Using a thick tree to conceal himself as best he could, he observed the scar-faced man push the doorbell multiple times. Evaughn felt his heart sink.

The moon was out of place, revealing itself while the sun was still out. It wasn't supposed to be here.

Just why was he here? Luka said the... s-selling was meant for tomorrow. Confused, Evaughn watched curiously as the man taped a rectangular something onto the center of their door.

He left shortly after, retreating into the passenger side of a car that drove away from where Evaughn was standing. Whoever was driving had to be an accomplice.

Breath held, Evaughn hopped onto his bike; his peaked curiosity didn't allow him to walk the short distance.

The act of setting down the bike could've been gentler. Nonetheless, he rushed to peel off what the scar-faced man had taped down: an envelope.

Written on the front was, To Neo. Open ASAP. He took out the folded piece of paper and read.

Neo, this is Damien (yes, I know)

Call me at 25-809-2549 ASAP. It's really urgent. We need to talk.

I'm not upset with you.

Evaughn's heart shouldn't have leaped as much as it did. After all, it was he who theorized that that strange man was one of those who wanted a part in his fate. It only made sense that he was working with Neo somehow.

Still, the confirmation was a sting to the chest.

Envelope in hand, Evaughn went inside. He reached into his school bag to pull out the new cups of instant noodles that he went to buy after leaving Nate's house. He poured hot water in the cup.

As he waited, he ascended to his bedroom and set the cup and envelope onto his desk to change. The blazer came off first, and then the buttons on the shirt. He slipped that off before undoing his belt and slacks. Everything was soon replaced with casual clothes, all long and fully sleeved.

Evaughn sat down and picked up his chopsticks. As he brought a clump of noodles to his lips, he looked at the letter again.

He squinted. There was something about the way the words were written. An inconsistency in the density of some letters as if the man pressed his pencil down harder when writing certain parts of it.

An eyebrow of his raised. He read the letters in order.

"Sssame... parrrrk... mmet."

He lowered his noodles. If his interpretation was correct, the man was telling him to go to the same park where they met.

But why?

The thought that answered his question was clay that molded his face into a frown. It had to be a lure. A trap to get him to go to the park, just to be kidnapped.

Evaughn slurped the rest of his noodles quickly.

"Tsk. I'm not that stupid."

***

It was ironic.

Evaughn had struggled to fall asleep that night, and once he was fully immersed in his dream, he wanted out. What's more, there was no meaning to his dream. Just a sensory overload coming from a cluster of sounds and colors and words and motions. His brain was both crowded and irritated.

One sound in particular was loudest.

A shrill ringing that annoyed him the most.

Evaughn woke up with his eyebrows creased. It hadn't left, that ringing. He knew why when he turned his head left. His alarm clock was vibrating atop his nightstand.

But I didn't set an alarm...

He reached over to quiet his radio. As he did so, his hand swept by something his half-asleep eyes had missed. "What..."

A gun.

He blinked multiple times. Each blink ended with the same view.

Fairly small, black, metal, and L-shaped. He sat upright with questions in his head beginning with who and why.

He looked closer and noticed that the gun sat atop a folded piece of paper. He retrieved it, careful not to rattle the weapon. Unfolded, the words became visible.

You may need it. Don't hesitate.
Also, check your sole.

Neo.

"Sole..." His brows furrowed beyond confusion, the boy looked at his feet. At a snail's pace, he lifted and folded his left leg to look beneath.

It took him some time. There was a sticker-like item that blended in with the skin. Flexible enough, he took a closer look. He saw that the sticker was alive.

There were... circuits. He gasped. A tracker?

He reached to peel it off, but his arm retracted. Heart racing, the boy alternated glanced from the gun to the tracking device to the letter and again.

It almost looked like...

He shook the idea. "N-No, Neo wouldn't help me."

As he sat with whys and what-ifs, Evaughn regarded the window before him. At the sight, he flinched. Perhaps the sensory overloaded dream had meaning after all.

"What is going on?"

He took slow steps towards it. The idea of him hallucinating didn't seem too far off, because the bars... the vertical bars on his window were gone.

For the first time in a long time, he could see the exterior from his bedroom. He opened the window and stuck his face out. When the wind hit his face, he couldn't help the smile that formed.

And even though he couldn't see much because of how foggy it was that morning, he didn't mind at all. To him, the thick cloud he felt on his pores was just that; a cloud, lowered from the sky just to hug his cheeks.

A cloud that touched him.