Two days have passed since I met with Aubrey. I told her to get a feel for her new ability and to let me know if there were any side effects. Regardless of the hassle, I think I miss having that fury inside me. In the meantime, I had lunch with Jean-Luc and spent more time with my father. Today is special because today I’m going to see Marcus’ parents. It’s going to be a hassle, but it’s necessary.

I’ve workshopped what I’ll tell them multiple times but have settled on a tale of heroics. I pull into their driveway and immediately notice the dead lawn. Marcus’ father loves his yard and can be seen every Sunday working on it for hours. He waters it and keeps it clean, cut, and beautiful. Now it's arid, and the grass has turned brown. There are trash and beer bottles all over. The large windows that dot the brownstone are shut and the blinds are drawn. Today is warm and humid, but I can’t hear the hum of their AC unit. What has become of your parents, Marcus? I ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer.

Marcus’s father answers the door. Jeff Briggs is a mountain of a man, built like a linebacker and taller than me by several inches. With thick arms and a barrel chest, the man is a gorilla. He looks like an older, more physically imposing Marcus. Or he usually does. Now the man looks diminutive despite our size difference. Messy stubble covers his face, and his normally combed hair is in disarray. He has on stained sweatpants and a wifebeater. The overwhelming stench of beer covers up the smell of B.O. He isn’t handling Marcus’ death well.

“Hi, Mr. Briggs. Do you mind if I come in?” I asked.

“Fine,” he grunted.

I follow him inside, and immediately something surprises me; the inside is spotless. The outside is a mess, but everything inside is a shining beacon of cleanliness. I watch Jeff walk over and plop down on his recliner, facing a black screen. The tray table to his right has a pyramid of beer cans stacked on top of it. I walk past him towards the kitchen, where I can hear whistling. Marcus’ mother, Cheryl, is the source of noise, and she is a stark contrast to her husband. Cheryl is a plump, friendly woman who’s never met someone she didn’t love. She makes everyone call her mom and would move heaven and earth for her “kids.” I expected her to be in a similar state as Jeff, but she’s whistling while baking. Her brown curls are immaculately done, and she’s stirring a bowl of brownie mix. Either she is more adept at faking emotions than I am, or she’s handling the loss of her son terrifically.

“Oh, Eryk, sweetie. We were so happy to hear you had gotten out of the hospital. Isn’t that right, Jeff? She asked.

A long, awkward silence follows as Jeff doesn’t answer. A slight twitch in Cheryl’s eye is the only sign that the silence agitates her. She continues mixing the bowl, putting a finger in it to taste the batter. Her face scrunches up, and she mutters something about needing salt.

“Mrs. Briggs, can we talk?”

“Of course, hun,” she said.

She doesn’t stop moving at her brisk pace, continuously dancing around me like an actor in a musical. Maybe she just didn’t love her son. It does not matter. I need to maintain my role and finish what I’ve started. I fake a cough to clear my throat. She catches my hint and finally stops moving.

“Well, what brings you here?” She asked.

“I was there at the end,” I said.

Stolen novel; please report.

“What do you mean, hun?” Mrs. Briggs asked.

“I was with him. When it all happened, I mean.” I said while looking down.

She puts the bowl she was holding down. Her shoulders are quivering, and her breathing is unsteady.

“Let’s go to the living room. Jeff should hear this as well.”

I follow her to the living room, where she sits on the couch. I take a seat across from her on their second recliner. Jeff is to my right and doesn’t even seem to have noticed the two of us. The man I have known my whole life is gone. All that is left is a shell of a human. He’s reminiscent of my own father.

“Jeff, honey. Honey. Honey!” She finally yells to get Jeff to notice us. He grunts in response, and he sits up to look at me.

I fidget with my hands, smoothing my shirt out. It is best to appear nervous and uncertain, like someone with uncomfortable news to share. I am trying to awaken their parental instincts and generate sympathy.

“The night of the party. I was there when that demon attacked. I was with Marcus.” I let the unspoken words float through the room. Cheryl’s plastered smile falters for a moment. Jeff’s eyes seem to regain lucidity. Finally, I have my captive audience. They both stare at me expectantly. Tears begin to fall slowly down my face.

“What happened to my boy? What happened to Marcus?” Jeff asked.

“They couldn’t recover his body. The BNA told us they’re still investigating and don’t have answers. Please, Eryk, anything you can tell us would be a godsend.” Cheryl said.

My performance has broken them out of their respective ruts. Don’t worry, Marcus. I won’t let your parents' woes go unanswered. I’ll give them closure. I’ll free them from their torment. Even devoid of human connection, I am not a monster.

“It was Neuvohuman that attacked the party. It was one of our classmates who did all this,” I said softly.

“We saw the news that it was a Cowl, but you’re telling me it was one of you kids that did all this?” Mrs. Briggs asked.

“Davis Allen is, sorry, was his name. He wasn’t popular, and a few people bullied him. I guess he had a hard home life, and when he triggered, he decided to take out his rage on everyone else around him,” I said.

“What about my boy?” Jeff asked.

“When Davis attacked the party, he trapped a bunch of us in a room with him. It was horrible, the things he did. Your son, my friend, died trying to protect everyone,” I said.

Jeff and Cheryl’s eyes light up at my words. “What? Explain, please,” Jeff pleaded.

“While Davis was torturing and killing people, Marcus realized that none of us would get out of there alive. He waited for the perfect moment, and he tackled Davis. That caused Davis to lose control, which is why the fire got so bad. The resulting chaos is how I escaped. If it weren’t for Marcus, none of us would have survived.”

The two adults sit quietly, not reacting. Was my speech unbelievable? Do they suspect me of lying? My doubts prove unfounded as Jeff smiles proudly. Cheryl erupts into tears causing Jeff to get up and hug his wife. The two embrace each other for the first time since I got here, maybe the first time in weeks. Jeff’s shoulder mutes her sobs, and I get up to leave. My work is done here, a farewell gift for a boy who called me a friend. Jeff notices my exit and mouths thank you to me.

I start my truck and prepare for the drive home— I have texts from Aubrey, Jean-Luc, and Maria. My girlfriend keeps trying to make plans with me, and I’ve flaked every time. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have it in her to just show up at my house and call me out. She has never even raised her voice in the two years we've dated. I respond to Jean-Luc about when I’m arriving tomorrow and let Aubrey know we can begin experimenting once the Marcus thing is over. I leave Maria’s message on read.