- STEVEN -

I stood still until Ahmed got in the car with James and Katherine, waited in the pale lights flickering from the firetruck still flashing outside Marissa's apartment. The air was heavy, unforgiving, and sooty clouds billowed ahead of the row of firemen who stood their ground on the building's front lawn.

Their work had been effective—it seemed all that remained of the fire was merely smoke, but the firemen weren't taking any chances; one of them still clutched a water hose close to his side, and they all kept their eyes locked on that wooden front door.

Another fireman, one who'd gone in earlier, appeared in the doorway and stepped out into the icy night. He fanned smoky wisps from in front of his face, then called to his comrades:

"No signs of anyone else in the house," I heard him say. "Good work, boys."

What? But Marissa—?

I shook my head, felt a slight throbbing behind my eyes. Then I noticed something odd. The fireman, the one who'd just proclaimed the scene all-clear—he was staring directly at me.

I gulped, felt my eyes grow wide. But I couldn't find the strength to move my body an inch, not even as he started taking steps my way. I just stood there, too afraid or intrigued or terrified or something—unready and unable to simply turn and walk away.

"You're one brave kid, Steven," he spoke in a deep and commanding voice.

I finally took a step back, shivering as I said my next words. "H—how did you know my name?"

"Hey, take it easy," he smiled, placed a single hand on my shoulder. "Charity mentioned it when she made the call. Said two boys were trapped in a flaming house, one named Steven and one named something foreign that I can't remember. I just figured you were the...uh, American one." He gave a small nod.

"...Right," I answered back, nodding slowly. "Well, th—thank you. Seriously. We would've been toast without you guys." I inched away, taking the slightest of steps backward as I held his gaze. "I, uh...should probably get going."

He lifted his eyes past my gaze, up into the trees or maybe to the sky. I forced a half-smile and turned to head for my car, stepping in brisk strides as I felt the phantom of his gaze boring into my back. 

I climbed inside my Chevy and started the engine, clicking on the lights as shadowed outlines of trees and their branches glimmered onto the pavement. I reversed out of the parking space and spun the wheel left before shifting the gear into drive and accelerating.

I shouldn't have, but I checked the rearview mirror again as I came to a halt at the stop sign bisecting the road.

I swallowed hard.

The firemen were huddled together, perhaps trying to stay warm in the invisible blizzard; all of them stood as a mini-mob, each one mere inches from the others—except for one, the one who'd somehow remembered my 'American' name and who now stared directly at my vehicle, at me, as my brake lights illuminated his chilling eyes and a glare that felt almost...familiar.

****

There was no way Marissa made it out of that house alive. Of that, I was sure. And the fire hadn't been burning long enough to destroy her remains.

They should've found her in that house, I kept telling myself as I drove home. They should have found her.

I stopped at a red light and shut my eyes, relieving some of the soreness in them. My heart thumped erratically, and my brain raced. It was too much—it was all way too much for me to process.

I rolled down the left window, let a wave of crisp cold air splash against the side of my face as I exhaled. Is this what it feels like to go insane? I shook my head wildly and shut my eyes again, and I rolled up the window.

I hated the cold.

As the glass was sliding up, I heard the faintest of noises. It sounded like walking, like slow but determined steps over a crackling surface. Something like—leaves?

I stole a tenuous glance out the window, shivering as I stared through the ghostly night...and I saw her.

"Charity," I breathed. But what's she doing at—? A chill surged through me as I stared around. The cemetery?

Hunched over slightly, she carried a candle with a single wick through the front gates.

No way was I about to follow her inside, but curiosity still got the better of me. I switched off my headlights and pulled a U-turn, creeping along the side of the graveyard until I made it to a clump of bushes that parted in the middle.

Peering through, I could make out Charity's figure as she knelt beside a tall tombstone and placed her candle in the patchy grass closest to it. In the light of the flame, she clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.

Is she...praying?

She stood back to her feet after a few more minutes, then raised her sleeve to her face and wiped above her cheeks. She picked up the candle and trudged off with it, the glow lilting through the darkness as she slowly trekked away.

****

"Steven!? Goodness gracious, we're going to be late again if you don't hurry up!" my mom cried from two rooms over.

"Mom, church doesn't start for another thirty minutes," I called back, voice smothered in agitation.

"You know what I mean!" she trilled. "Your father always gets to service two hours early, and you find it hard to show up a mere fifteen minutes ahead of time?"

"Dad's the pastor, Mom. That's kind of in his job description," I sighed. "I had a rough night, and you know that. It's not every day you get an all-expense-paid trip to the lake of fire."

She was silent for a moment—a very short-lived one. "Well, I'm heading to the church now," she said resolutely. "I suppose you'll have to take your own car to make it to service. And don't even think about being late."

"Love you too," I spat, rolling my eyes.

Another short pause. "You know, Steven, EdgeWay has come to expect a level of decorum from me, from all of us. And I hope that one day, you can appreciate that." Her words were followed by the creaking open of our house's front door and the clicking of high-heeled shoes against the cement pathway dividing the two halves of the front lawn. The door swung shut seconds later.

I huffed at her departure, then stepped from my bedroom into my closet to grab a tie. I picked a red one and wrapped it around my neck, overlaying it with the white collar of my dress shirt.

What's with her? I raged inside my head as I buttoned the rest of my shirt and tucked it into my blue suit pants. Would it've killed her to cut me a little slack?

A slither of silence crept through the air, followed by the tiniest of creaks in the distance. Had Mom forgotten to close the front door all the way? Was it inching itself open under the duress of the morning wind?

Whatever. I shook my head. I'll close it when I leave.

I made my way to the bathroom and stood before the mirror, checking for any breaks in the 'decorum' that everyone at EdgeWay expected from me.

Hair was neat enough, nails were trimmed, lips weren't too dry. My eyes were far from bright and cheery, but at least the bags I'd accumulated under them over the past few weeks seemed to have diminished.

Eeeeeek—there it was again, that creaking pitch.

Mom must've left the door open, I thought to myself. I gave a heavy sigh, then turned, flicked off the lights, and headed back to my room to grab my keys.

When I made it to the front door, it was sealed tight. Mom had shut it; that was for sure.

So what was that noise? A loose floorboard?

As I raised my hand to the doorknob, preparing to leave, I glanced down the hallway.

Nothing out of the ordinary, save for the faintly red blood stain from where I'd been stabbed only twenty-four hours ago. I shut my eyes, feeling a shot of fresh soreness surge along my upper thigh, throbbing at the mere thought of the day before.

I tightened my grip on the doorknob and twisted, turning my back to the hallway, to the blood, and to the most infinitesimal of creaks as it sounded once more in the distance.

The morning outside was dull and overcast as I drove wistfully down the road. Puffy gray clouds congregated in the sky above; they seemed ready any instant to drop their load of water and mist. I rode past the school, past the woodsy road that led to Garrett Loop and Apartment 20-A, past the city's fire department—and past the cemetery, where the cinereal shade of the tombstones looked almost to match the tear-filled clouds above.

When I made it to the church, I clicked on my phone, checked the time.

Twelve minutes to spare, I thought to myself as I pulled in to a parking space adjacent to my mom's car. I flipped to my phone's selfie cam to check my look one last time, then climbed out and headed inside.

When I made it into the main building, I noted that the front row of pews was empty and opted to take a seat near the outer right edge. Two ladies dressed in matching white and yellow blouses sat three rows behind me, and their low chatter mingled with the sound of piano music as it echoed back and forth throughout the sanctuary.

I leaned back in my chair, gave a long stretch, and circled my gaze slowly about the room. The high-ceilinged walls around us were adorned with bright lights, so many that one might actually forget the morning outside was streaked in the dull gray silhouette of bitter and gloomy clouds.

I shook my head, released a labored breath as I faintly registered the pattering approach of footsteps from behind me.

"Hey, Steven," came a mid-range, borderline girly voice.

Dude must be tired. I turned to him. "Hey, Ahmed."

He forced a half-smile. "...Have you seen Miss Charity, by any chance? I was hoping to sit with her."

I shook my head. "Nah, she hasn't showed up yet. Where're James and Katherine?"

"They...won't be able to make it," he answered a bit nervously. "They dropped me off. Katherine had to go to the funeral home to finalize some things. She and James are helping with the service for Mr. Clather and Madam Caroline later today."

"Makes sense." I shrugged. "But yeah, I haven't seen Charity anywhere."

Ahmed nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, um...thanks anyway." He bowed his head and turned to go.

I swallowed hard. "Hey, Ahmed, wait."

He stopped, turned back toward me. "...Yeah?"

"You can...um, I mean...you can sit here." I shuffled on the pew, lowering my head. "If—if you want."

His mouth fell slightly agape. "R-really?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "For sure."

He slinked forward and took the seat to my left. "Thanks."

I gave another shrug. "How've you been holding up?"

"Not so good," he mumbled. "You'll never believe what James told me."

I stayed silent.

"He said Landon and your dad were—"

"What's up, little bro!?"

Ahmed and I both jerked our heads up in unison, twisting in our chairs at the sound of the thunderous greeting.

"Cam?" I puzzled. "What're you doing here this early?"

Anna stood daintily beside him, and he raised his arm from his side to wrap it snugly around her shoulder. "Well, I was seriously considering skipping. Me and Anna were both up pretty late last night at the lake house, but she insisted we should come." He turned, rubbed his nose against her ear and made her giggle.

"Oh, right," I nodded. "Yeah, I was up pretty late too."

Cam chuckled. "Wow, bro. Moved on from Grace already?"

Heat flushed through my head the moment he said that. "What? I was—no, that's not what I meant! I wasn't up late with some girl..."

"Relax, dude." Cam held up a hand in defense. "It's no big deal. We're all friends here." He chuckled again. "So, who's the lucky lady, if I may ask?"

I was the color of a rhubarb, a bright red rhubarb dipped in strawberry syrup. I grimaced as I stood from my chair and grabbed Cam by the arm. "Cam, can we talk for a sec?" It was much more a command than a request; I practically yanked him away from Anna and dragged him out into the hallway.

"Bro, chill," Cam tried his best to assuage my wrath as we made it into the hall, taking a spot in a corner a few rooms down from the nursery. "It was just a joke..."

"Not cool, Cam," I fumed. "Grace is off-limits, and I mean it! What if she'd been walking by? Or what if her parents or...or anyone had heard—"

"Look, will you just chill out? I was kidding, okay? What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me? Cam, I can't..." I paused, exhaled, thought about my next words as carefully as I could. "Last night, while Anna was giving you the blowjob of the century, I almost got barbecued like a pack of ribs in some freaky lady's apartment, and I could really do without you making me look like the world's biggest dork-wad!" I huffed, turned my back to him.

His hand fell on my shoulder. "Bro, I'm sorry. I—"

"Whatever." I shrugged his hand off and started walking away.

"Steven, come on!" He ran to catch up with me, gripped my shoulder again, turned me around to face him. "Look, I'm serious. It wasn't cool what I said about you and Grace. I'm sorry, okay?"

"I swear," I raged, "I don't know how Anna puts up with you."

Cam sighed, lowering his head. "You're right," he mused. "I know I suck, alright. I get it. I'm a huge dick who doesn't know when to just shut his mouth."

He stuck his hands into his suit-pant pockets, and his eyebrows sank into crestfallen u's. He tried to meet my eyes, but I flicked my head sideways and scowled—refused to look at him.

Cam let out another sigh, this one even heavier, even sadder.

I didn't know how to feel. I was mad; I was furious.

It took everything in me, but I finally returned Cam's gaze. "Yeah," I began, "you really are a dick. Some days more than others." I gripped his arm that was still resting on my shoulder, gripped it tight and smirked up at him.

He smiled back, gave a low chuckle as his dark eyes still begged for forgiveness. "I really am sorry," he tried to assure me. "I just...I'm sorry."

The side entrance door to the church swung open at the end of the hallway, on the opposite side of the nursery room. A woman walked in, a woman wearing a long and florous dress—a woman I could never seem to escape.

When she spotted me and Cam, she called to us. "Steven, Cameron, good morning!"

"Hey, Charity," Cam replied, his tone tired but friendly.

She lifted a hand to wave.

Cam waved back.

I didn't.

I just stood there, watched her beeline for the lady's room. She raised her arm slightly, allowing her purse to slide up and over her shoulder, then walked into the bathroom.

The door shut lightly behind her.