Police Report 24th Tricous - 0280 P.L.

Incident Report

Murder Rep-

Accident R

I cant.

I can’t do this. I can’t make it so sterile and official.

I have to though, for myself. I have to get it out somewhere, even just writing out a mess like this. The boy can’t see me like this. I still can’t look at him, it’s been weeks now. That damn arm it’s not changing back and I keep seeing the blood drip down it, and the eyes, those gold eyes.

I have to be strong, for him, for Des.

I suppose I'll just go over what I can remember, as shaky as that is now.

A couple months ago, the bastard Shekhinist’s started poking around, asking about him. I don’t know who contacted them, I’ve got my ideas though. Just too late to act on them. They’re long gone, as are most of the others.

Anyway, everyone started getting a bit shifty, Des and I chased them off but the damage was done. I caught some of the older ones with their videos, horrible, awful things. Fancy that, barging into our town, showing them those awful videos, saying they were next if they didn’t rat out the boy.

It wasn’t the elders though, the younger folk got scared for them. I can’t blame them, it’s only been a few years since the Scouring, a lot of them are poor and lonely for the first time. Of course they’re scared of losing what little they had, damned Shoulder’s knew that.

They were smart too, went under our noses, away from our mates too.

They just waltzed in one day. Seven of them, always damned seven in that cult of theirs. Knocked on doors for answers, broke down the ones that didn’t answer. Des was out with the kid, having lunch and shopping. We were moving into the old book shop at the top of Main street. There was room there for him, room to grow.

And me, damn me, I was at home. I didn’t come out until the commotion started, but if I was there from the start…well, I’d be with Des at least.

It’s all word of mouth for a bit, Davey was out there, he told me a lot of the other young bloods got heated up. Started marching with the Shoulders, he and some of the other older boys tried to break them up but they were just outnumbered, poor Davey, he’s still shaken up. I’m worried for him, he’s in a bad state. I’ll try and find him some work later, keep him busy.

They got Des and the kid stuck in a street, Des managed to give the boy a headstart but what could he do against them all?

I came out around this point, then I saw the bastards headed down main street, one of them yelled out they had the kid. I should’ve gone there, gone to help him. Maybe if I had the guts Des did, bought him a bit more time he’d have made it away.

But I didn’t, and I don’t.

I found Des. They’d really given him a beating. Oh Des, even then, broken and bloodied he just kept asking where the kid was, if he was safe.

I feel so bad, so, so bad for lying to him.

I told him Gress was fine.

I think he knew I was lying, he loved the kid like nothing else. The son we couldn't-

He definitely knew I was when the snaps came.

It sounded like every window in the damn town shattered at once, hell I even dove over him to cover the shrapnel. There wasn’t any, all that racket just came from the kid.

He struggled to try and get up, ended up crawling to the corner. I broke, I helped him get up.

Oh how I wish I didn’t.

The first Shoulder was thrown out like a ragdoll from the alley, we heard the bones from up the street. The second and third rushed in, four and five started shooting. Damn them. The thing finished with the ones in the alley, then reached out to the others-

The details aren’t important. Not here, it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that they’re dead.

So were the ones who went to help them, and help the boy. Then when they’d all gathered around the bullets came back…I nearly cried when I heard the baker whistling yesterday…

Stolen story; please report.

And the laughing.

that awful crackling i hate it i hate-

—

Des found him, talked to the damned thing like nothing was different.

It looked down at him, I remember. It even cocked it’s head so innocently, pretending like Des was getting through to it, that the Gress he knew was listening.

That thing.

That long skull beast head thing that came out of the alley. It towered over, hunched and snarling. Oh those damned eyes-

It was standing over Des, looking down and smiling at him. It opened it’s arms. Damned thing. It opened it’s arms to Desmond. It knew. It was playing.

It laughed again, different, nothing left of the kid’s voice. Laughing at it’s claws in Des.

—

Oh Des… silly, stupid, Des, Desmond my love. You still hugged him.Why didn’t you just run? Bedan could’ve saved you, had a chance at least. Why did you pick him over me

That stopped it though. The second he wrapped his arms around the beast, all that smoke just dropped down. It hissed and bellowed, all that… evil on him just disappearing. Des never let go, holding him until the thing turned back to the boy he loved.

I never got any last words, Bedan held me back from them. I still hate him for it. I always will. So now I just do what I think you’d want. I give the kid what he needs, teach him the basics. What was left of the town after we chased out the rats helps too. They know I can’t be the parent he needs. What you were.

I can’t share a house with him anymore either. We all set him up in the shop. There’s plenty of books, I can do that. I can keep teaching him to read, you loved doing that.

He still cries. Every night.

Part of me wants to go in and soothe him, hold him like you would.

More of me wants to smoth-

Desmond.

I love you, but I can’t love the boy.

He’s sick. I think the Shoulders might’ve been right. Maybe I should’ve gone with the others.

If you were here, oh you’d know all the right answers. I’ll hope to see you again someday but, I don’t think we’re ending up in the same place, my love.

I’m doing what I can for Gress, but it will never be enough.

I can’t help it

hate him.

Eleanor.

----------------------------------------

Gress had been here before, too many times. In his first nightmares, in his unconscious moments, in the times he wished for nothingness.

It had changed alongside him.

Once, it was nothingness, the flickers of a dream. In the middle of a starless void, a child sitting on the invisible shore against an black ocean. Unfathomably far below, crushed and buried below the inky sea was a faint glint of light. It called to him, begging him to walk into that sea of nothing. He’d brushed against the water before. Despite its glossy, still surface being flecked with rime, it burned him at the slightest touch. Each growing nightmare the child had, he found himself one step further into that scalding sea.

Then, when he finally called upon that spark, the stagnant sea exploded into turmoil, trying to drown them in a molten storm. The light had exploded into an inferno, untempered by the storm, drying out the endless sea with frigid flame before enveloping the child.

Now, the ocean was gone. The shore was gone. The flame was gone. Gone, invisible, excluded, by any means absent from the current space. It was sectioned away by endlessly tall curtains. Illuminated by limelight from the zenith and nadir of endless heights. The floor was a flawless mirror, reflecting only itself. In the middle of it, in the constant point within inconsistent space. Two comfortable chairs were either side of a neat, small table.

A prison turned playhouse.

A vague shape, so calm, defying focus or imagination of what it could be, sat on the reflected seat, clawed fingers drummed steadily against its leg, the unknowable presence enjoying its company.

Gress was locked into his own chair, mirroring the beast, drumming his own, regular fingers against his leg, forced into the same comfort of his mirror. He couldn’t move his eyes down to see the presence stuck in the reflection, eyes locked to the absent seat on his side of the space.

The letter was dead centre of the table between them. An ancient sigil engraved below the crystal surface. Saccharine words boomed through the space.

Do you see, Boy?

They hate you.They always have.

But I don’t.

I always loved you, Gress.

Do you remember the day we met?

An odd thing to say, we’ve always been together. But the day you named me, that you freed me. You asked me to save you, and I did. I saved you, and from then on I’ve always protected you.

Nothing will ever harm you, Gress. Because of me. What is that if not Love?

You feel it, don’t you? My Love, given freely.

Yes, you felt it, with our hand around his head, each crack against the stones.

It felt good, didn’t it?

I could give you so much more of that.

So why?

Why do you deny me?

…

I am bored, child, but I am patient.

…Oh.

But I need not be for much longer.

Stirring and groaning from the hallways snapped Gress from his trance. He shouldn’t have opened it, especially not when he saw the intended recipient. But how could he resist? Seeing the name of his beloved late Uncle on the envelope, a name that had been turned taboo in Ingram.

The groaning grew louder. The white-haired one was waking up. He sighed, releasing his death grip on the yellow, tear-stained letter, playing the role of warden would be as good a distraction as any.