The person was someone Heath didn't recognise. The girl was of a tall, muscular build, with light brown hair and pale skin, with pimples on her cheeks. She had plain features, but she looked like she could beat someone up without a second thought.

She never got to display her full strength though, as Heath had already slammed her in the gut with the wrench.

The girl gasped, stumbling back and Heath whacked her again with the wrench, across the legs.

She collapsed to the floor, crying out in pain, making Heath hesitate. What the heck was he doing?! She hadn't made a move to attack. He'd hit her first!

It was a bad move on his part. She kneed him in the place where the sun don't shine.

He almost dropped the wrench in shock. His eyes widened and he took a half-step back, his previous regrets vanishing.

She grinned, a violent glint in her eyes. "That all you got, Puny?" she said as she began to climb to her feet.

Heath swallowed the pain and dove for the wrench.

She stepped on his hand, anticipating what he was about to do. She put her weight onto the foot on his hand.

He let out a whine, biting the inside of his cheek so hard that the skin broke and the taste of blood filled his mouth.

She bent down to him, her eyes meeting his and she spoke for the second time. "Whatcha doin' in here, f*cktard?"

Heath didn't say a word, concentrating on focusing on something other than the pain.

She stamped down on his hand. "Answer me, runt!" she snarled, spraying spit all over his face.

Still, he kept his mouth shut, wishing he could bring the wrench closer without using his powers.

"Fine, I'll do it t-," she started, grabbing the wrench and preparing to swing - when suddenly she flew backwards, the wrench falling from her hands.

He regretted using his powers instantly, despite it simply being a reflex. Nevertheless, he picked up the wrench and walked towards her, as she began to climb to her feet.

He smashed it against her head, putting all his strength into the swing, hoping it would end the fight quickly.

She collapsed to ground, her eyes rolling up into her head and going limp. He hoped she wouldn't remember his face. He didn't need to be recognised, especially since Andrea knew who he was and could have him arrested for trespassing.

He also hoped she wasn't dead. He didn't want kill two people in the span of a few days. He would've used his powers to find out whether or not she was dead but he wasn't using his powers anymore.

It was surprising how his powers had become a crutch in such a short amount of time. Trying not to use them was like tying both hands behind his back and trying to go about his daily routine. It felt almost impossible.

He could still hear the thoughts of those around him, but he ignored them and reducing the volume as best he could to a quiet hum.

He shook his head and returned to the real world. He put down the wrench with caution, listening out for other possible unwelcome visitors.

He was barely restraining himself from bolting out the door and racing down the street, trying instead to focus on being quiet and stealthy.

That plan was thrown out the window the tall girl stirred. Heath sprinted to the door, flung to the door open and ran for dear life.

He spent half the run looking behind him and the other half panting and almost slowing to a walk. His soles were tormented by the poor shoe choice and he was sweating more than he thought was humanely possible. His lungs didn't feel like they were working properly, and he had a cramp in his side by the time he arrived home.

He dragged himself up the stairs to write in his new evidence down somewhere. He'd have to ask Poppy about the ring he got to school tomorrow.

He ensured it was brought up as soon as possible - after a few minutes of conversation with Poppy at lunch the next day, he managed to ask her about it.

"Poppy, just wondering, but what did you do with the ring I gave you?" he asked, trying to act innocent and oblivious.

"Eh - What?" she asked, her expression confident and eyes never straying from his.

He managed to fight the itch to use his abilities to find out whether she was lying or not. "You know, the ring I gave you," he repeated, struggling to wear a poker face while he spoke.

"Oh yeah, that ring," she said and paused,"Why do you want it?"

"I think someone realised I stole it," he said, repeating the lie he'd spoken in front of the mirror many times,"I want to give it back, just in case. Don't want to get caught, you know." Saying it with Poppy in front of him was much more daunting.

Her eyes searched the room before she grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him off. "I'll tell you somewhere else. Oh and if I tell you this, you have to tell me something in return."

Heath's curiosity was so overwhelming that he nodded, not caring what he had to tell her. He was surprised she'd given in so quickly, having expected her to keep up the lie for a good while longer. He nearly lost his balance when she pulled him off to another room.

Instead of finding a room, Poppy brought him to the janitor's closet. Heath stared at it from moment while she clambered into it.

"Hurry up, sh*t-wit," she said, opening the door wide.

Glancing around to see that no one was looking, he climbed in after her and shut the door behind him.

"Comfy," he said simply, shifting his position because of the broom sticking into his back.

"Yeah, well this sh*t is private," she said, but he could see her Chesire grin in the low light.

"So, what is it?" he asked, moving again and folding his arms.

"I gave the ring to Andrea," she said simply.

He feigned a look of surprise. It undoubtedly wasn't very convincing but he didn't care right now. "Why?"

"For drugs," she said, her voice dropping to barely over a whisper so Heath had to strain hear her.

At first, Heath though he'd misheard her. He'd expected Andrea to be an assassin-for-hire (it sounded ridiculous, but it was more likely she'd killed his brother that way) or just to know Poppy or something. Certainly not selling drugs.

"What?" he asked, just in case he hadn't quiet heard it right.

"Andrea's a drug dealer," she said.

He stared, absorbing the information. The more he thought about, the more sense it made. The small bags held drugs, which she could easily smuggle to school or houses. The objects in the shack were what had been exhanged for drugs. The tall girl was probably a bodyguard. Or something.

It seemed less and less likely that Andrea had killed his brother. Her shack was used to deal drugs, not kill people. The wrench was just a wrench that happened to be in the right place at the right time.

"Oh," was all that he said,"I see."

After he thought he'd made so much progress, he'd found he'd just gone back to square one.

"Now, you have to tell me something," she said, smirking.

"Do you want to choose?" he asked, his voice low and exhausted.

"Do I want to choose what you tell me?" she echoed, staring at him.

He nodded, not bothered to argue with whatever it was she wanted. He didn't care at this point, so buried in the fact that all that investigating had been for nothing and he was not a step closer to finding out who had killed his brother.

"Does it count if I ask you to show me something?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

He shrugged. "Sure," he said monotonously.

"I want you to show me this so-called amazing brother of yours," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Heath's heart stopped. He hadn't expected this request. He didn't know if he was ready to tell her about it yet. He had expected her to know at this point, so he could avoid telling her.

But he couldn't run from it forever and it was better to do it now than to put it off for later and having it as a burden on his mind.

He nodded slowly, pushing open the door and stepping out. He held open the door so she could get out.

"Do you have a coat?" he asked, his voice low and lacking in emotion.

She shook her head, quirking an eyebrow. "Why?"

He shrugged. "It probably won't be cold anyway."

Her eyes narrowed and he could feel her gaze on his neck as he turned away and began walking towards the school gates.

When they reached them, Poppy flashed Heath a grin (which he didn't return) and leaped over the wall and began running like a panther out of the view of anyone watching.

Heath followed suit, climbing over the wall and racing after her. They ran for a good while before he began to slow down, several minutes before Poppy showed any signs of fatigue. She matched his decreasing pace though until they were walking.

She made several attempts at conversation throughout the wall, but he stayed unresponsive, deflecting the tries with a simple shrug of his shoulders or shaking or nodding his head. She must've gotten the message that he wasn't in a talking mood as her conversation starters became fewer and far between.

Heath took a sharp turn, and their destination lay in front of them, looming and cold. The graveyard was never a pleasant place, even in the middle of the day. It didn't look terrifying or remotely threatening, but the stories about the place made up for it. It had a plain appearance from the outside and the flowers littered the graves but the knowledge of who was in there made all who passed it shiver.

"Your brother lives in a graveyard?" Poppy asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife through butter.

If this was any other day, in any other place about any other person, he probably would've laughed. Unfortunately, it was today, here and about Caleb.

So he just shrugged and walked in, hands deep in his pockets and trying to repress the onslaught of emotions that were threatening to wash over him.