hours2hours

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

TRIGGER WARNINGS IN TAGS

Joel

Waves smash into the cliffside, launching particles of water all the way up to my nose. I look at Miles, back down at the waves, then back to Miles again. The crystal clear decision made last night now fuzzy and unfocused as the rest of my awareness. Can’t decide if I wanted them the job, or if I feel happy to be alive for once. But Miles said feelings come and go, that includes happiness and love.

I was so touched by Miles’s willingness to help me, but in the end I’ll only add to his burdens. Now his eyes are soundly closed while the sun peeks its head over the horizon, illuminating the sky in its orange-yellow glow. I almost feel guilty not waking him up to see, but considering he hadn’t a wink of sleep the preceding night, figured I’d let him rest. That and… he sleeps so peacefully. He looks beautiful.

No, shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

The sun seems to have its own plans, when its light shines on his face his eyes slowly flutter open. “I feel like shit,” he groans.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” I reply softly. “That’s the hangover, you’ll feel better in a few hours.”

He pulls down my plaid overshirt I covered him with, sits up and leans against the railings to watch the sun with me. I only observe my peripheral vision, watching the sun so I don’t blush or accidentally glance at his lips.

“What happened last night?” He asks.

“You don’t remember?” I ask, crossing my fingers. Some part of me wants him to remember, but it’d make things nice and simple.

“Think I just need a minute.”

I hand him a water bottle from the bag, which he downs in no time flat. He swallows a few more pills and stretches his limbs, flinching once aware of the height we’re still at. “I can’t believe I fell asleep all the way up here. Have you been awake all night?”

“More or less, hasn’t been totally boring though.”

Miles realises I’m still playing the same music he started for me last night. 

“I see why ya like it, and I think it told me a bit about you.” 

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” he replies with a laugh. But I still don’t look, I don’t say anything. “Shit, what time is it?” He mumbles before checking himself: 7:04. “Oh my god, I work in twenty minutes.”

“Let’s get ya’ home,” I stand shakily and open the trap door.

Neither of us say much on the walk back to Miles’s place, and I’m not sure if it’s for better or for worse. Maybe he wants to pretend it never happened, maybe he doesn’t even remember. It doesn’t matter anyway, I just hope for his sake that it meant nothing. I want to ask him everything, but I don’t want to make this harder than it already is. I make sure to at least take in the sights of downtown Matlock, Miles walking through them. Maybe its the sunrise combined with the street’s emptiness, maybe it’s because I don’t intend to see them ever again. 

Once we turn past the train tracks and through a small dirt path through trees, Miles talks. “We have to tell someone about last night.”

I freeze for a moment, before I realize what he means. “What’s there to tell? I got jumped at a party an’ Aaron probably did it but but there’s no way to prove it.”

“But you’re still in danger! You’re not gonna, I dunno, get back at him? Figure out who sent him?”

“Why bother?”

Miles fumbles over his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it. You’re okay, that's what matters.”

Miles wants to protest, evident by the way he waves his hands in frustration. We stop just short of the treeline that would reveal Miles’s house.

“You should turn back now, my dad might still be home.” 

“Does he hate me or what?” I figured there was a reason he would lie about staying at Annie’s place overnight and not mine.

“He doesn’t hate anyone, he’s just paranoid. Look, can we talk later tonight?” He rubs his arm nervously. “I feel like there’s more from last night we shouldn’t ignore.”

I look into Miles’s eyes again, then off to the side. “Bye Miles.”

“Alright…” He tapers off. “Talk to you later.”

It’s so difficult watching him walk away, he doesn’t know what he’ll hear around town tomorrow. How am I just supposed to leave now and be okay with the fact that this will never be resolved? All I can do is ignore it, because pretty soon none of it will matter, and in some twisted way that fact comforts me.

Everything sucks now. People want me dead, everyone I love is suffering because of me, my life is over just as it was from its beginning. But at least by the end of today none of these problems will exist.

Thankfully, there isn’t a single car in the driveway of the house aside from my own beaten truck. I remember buying this thing as soon as I had a job, and I had so many plans for it. Annie and I were going to go for roadtrips to see concerts in other countries, we were gonna go camping way out in places we’d never seen, and it was just going to be the two of us. I told myself I’d visit the big city all the time, grab coffee and visit record shops every time I had the chance. How did those plans disappear so quickly?

I toss my bike onto its side in the front yard and wiggle the locked handle, but no one ever bothers to lock up the back. The only crime in this town is committed by me, so why bother keeping our own things locked up?

The inside of my childhood home looks so much different than normal, because the things I normally walk past without a second glance all tell a story. The kitchen table our family would share long ago, now left in disarray, every inch covered by unopened bills, wilted roses and two report cards. One for Ruby and one for me, one opened, one closed.

Around the corner is the bathroom door, still cracked at the top from the time Ruby and I fought over the Wii years ago. We were arguing over that thing constantly, until Mom agreed that I’d get an hour, and she’d get an hour. Ruby didn’t care for that rule though, and kept playing since no adults were around. So I ripped the thing from its plugs while she was playing and hid it in the bathroom. We waged war on either side of the door until I inevitably smashed it. We were both in major shit. I wonder why I can remember negative memories like that so vividly, and why they don’t feel so negative anymore. Of course there’s the living room down the hallway, which I haven’t set foot in in months or years. There was a time as kids where the entire family would watch the new episode of some cartoon every Friday night. It was so long ago, but I can still feel what it was like to be in my mother’s arms. A comforting feeling that boils rage in me today.

Why do I hold onto these memories when people will throw them out the window over pointless things? What’s the point of enjoying anything when it’’ll be ruined by idiotic beliefs? Why do I need to suffer because some book said it didn’t like me for things I can’t control?

These happy memories are nothing when covered by an enormous shadow, the fresh memory of scorn. Of mom throwing my things into the back yard while dad watched. I was so scared of what they would say, but they didn’t say a thing. Mom took my key and pointed at the door, she couldn’t even look me in the eye, couldn’t spare me a single word.

“So what the hell was all that for huh?!” I scream to no one. “What’s the point of holding me, saying you love me if some stupid fuckin’ book can take it all away?”

My hands fall, my muscles relax a little, and I walk up the stairs, pushing all of these pointless thoughts out of my head. But they won’t stop. I may not have control over anything anymore, but at least I can choose to stop these thoughts forever.

Why should I stay if I’m miserable, if I just make lives worse by being here? I couldn’t even help the one person I care most about in the entire world, I dragged him into my bullshit and he got hurt. Even before all that, what did I ever once do that helped him?

“Why did I have to be gay? WHY ME?!” 

I open my bedroom door, and pray there’s some weed left in my grinder. Scraping out the excess into my pipe, I finally light the thing but find no solace in smoke. My heart only pounds faster, accelerates these catastrophic thoughts. It’s not like I need to feel out of my body for this, because in the last two days nothing has felt real. It’s only habit at this point.

Once the weed is gone, I stand and search the rubble for my wallet. I take out a crumpled sheet of paper covered in scribblings, smoothing it out and laying on my desk. A half-assed note, even by my standard of writing. It was written months ago, kept hidden just in case an animal attacked and I didn’t have it in me to run.

In the end, the kids in school who tell me that I’m weak, they were all right. Annie would take me aside after class some days of ninth grade, and she would tell me that those assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, that they’re a bunch of idiots and the two of us were all we needed. I scratch my wrist and open the drawer on my nightstand, taking a small plastic bottle and placing it carefully on top. How fucked up is it that they were actually right? I’m sorry Annie, but you were wrong, and you’re better off without me. After all I’m the reason she became a criminal in the first place. I came into her life and made her worse, just as Miles will if I don’t stop myself.

Carefully, I lay down on my bed. Crouching in any capacity still strains my bones. My lungs feel like collapsing on themselves. I was dealt a shit hand, and I wish words could describe how unfair it feels.

I should feel lucky to have a roof over my head, a sister and friends who are alive and well, but knowing that makes me feel even worse. I told myself for so long that I couldn’t feel bad, that I didn’t have reason to hurt myself or want to die because I already have everything I need. I’m fortunate compared to many others, but it doesn’t make me feel better. I don’t know why I can’t just live with these feelings like others. 

So I sit and stare at the bottle in my hand, at the thin silvery scars on my arm and the fresh red ones. It bothers me that I don‘t have any capacity to cry anymore.

Instead of laying on my bed, I curl up into a small ball on the floor in a pile of laundry. An hour passes, I continue to think for the entire time. Despite the fact that I haven’t slept since the rumour, I still can’t sleep. The bottle is in my hand, and though I’ve opened it a few times and weighed its contents, that’s as far as it's gone. I’m so weak that I can’t even do this one thing right. Just unscrew the lid, pour the pills into my hand, toss them into my mouth and swallow. Four actions and it’s done, but I can’t. Every time I think about trying to move my arms they feel weighed down by anchors deep into the ocean. I wish I could just fall into that dark ocean and fall asleep, if I meant I didn’t have to do this.

Finally, I pick up the bottle and unscrew the cap before a sudden ringing blares from across the bed. I reach over to shut the thing off, but the name stops me. A goofy photo of Miles smiling with a mouthful of ramen fills the screen.

“Hey?” My voice croaks into the speaker.

“Hey! I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Can’t sleep. What’s up?” I wipe my face and try to act normal.

“Uh, ok, I only have a few seconds to talk, but I just wanted to ask you how your face was doing?”

“Aren’t you working?”

“Yeah, I was pretty late though, Michael’s pissed.”

“You called just to check on me, even though you’re already in deep shit?”

“It’s no biggie, promise. I just wanted to make sure you’re icing your face, it’ll bring down the swelling.” In the background of the call, someone shouts. “Miles! We need you at the register!” 

“In a minute!” He calls back.

“Yeah, I can do that. But why’d you really call?” I quickly supress my sniffling face.

“I’m just worried about you is all. Last night was really weird and I think we’re both a little messed up. Please take care of yourself, we’ll talk it out tonight now that I’m sober. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you later.” In fear of bursting open over the phone, I hang up before he can say goodbye. The call ends and I cry into my pillow over the music that Miles showed me. All day I could hardly cry. Why does one phone call change that?

Some things Miles said the night before pop into my head. Laying on my bed with sore red eyes, word after word comes back. He’s been through so much more than I have, but still stays strong. Could I place this pain on someone who has been through enough?

But I can’t live holding this pain inside me.

I don’t deserve a friend like Miles, not in the slightest.

But last night.

He was just drunk.

But he’s shown me time and time again he cares for me.

But I can’t have that, I can’t have any of that. Sooner or later the paradox will come for me, and it will come for him too.

Am I ignoring the truth to make giving up easier?

Is the truth something I deserve?

So many contradictions clouding my mind, veiling that stupid song that I could never play. Thought after thought after thought with nowhere to go. I love Miles, but his advice was so stupid. You can’t just write about your feelings to make them go away.

But then I think about him ranting all night, expressing his deep love for everything around him, climbing that tower with me and the way he kissed me all the way at the top. While going through the most painful time in his life he still somehow finds the good in it all. If he could learn to do it who says I couldn’t too?

I need to decide what’s stupider: trying something stupid, or let it all go without even trying. If it doesn’t work I can do what I meant to do tomorrow, or the day after.

For the first time in hours I pick myself up from the floor, I place the pill bottle back in my drawer and the note in my wallet. The idea of keeping this up for another day is exhausting, but if I’m with Miles I can handle it. I won’t think about that deep dark life waiting for me, instead I’ll wait. And while I wait, I will take out my notepad and write.

***

A few hours later and I’m still jotting down whatever pops into my mind. It’s incoherent, lazy, just an overall wreck. But it’s something. It’s as though a few of these buzzing thoughts have become something else. Not something beautiful like Miles’s paintings, but something. I began writing about why I wanted to end my life, but every train of thought would lead to the same feeling, the same person. Unrelated sentences starting with Something about this, something about that. They aren’t much, but every now and then a nice rhyme pops out, or a memory that makes me feel something again. Something about a night sky, something about fields where Toby used to run, something about Miles and how my foot is thumping to see him after work. 

But there’s still so much to be done before I create anything real. There’s still melodies to write, chords to organize, vocal practice. God this was a dumb idea.

But oddly enough, a few notes peek through the buzzing thoughts. With a small positive thought escaping, I jot it onto paper before it disappears forever. It isn’t the instant fix I wanted it to be, but it isn’t nothing, as I expected. It’s a start.

Ruby clears her throat, I jump. “Shit, how long were you standing there?” Her handmade purse is thrown over an oversized tie-dye shirt, mouth hung open at my appearance. She steps in, picks up a shirt off the ground and tosses it at my bare chest, waiting patiently as I dress myself. Then, before I can ask a thing about what she thinks of me, she wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. “It’s gonna be okay,” she says. After hours of focus the tears make their return. “C’mon, we’re goin’ for a ride,” she says.

Ruby drives us down the gravel road past all the houses and trees until we reach the highway. From there we continue for more than an hour and a half with little talk. Rows of suburban neighborhoods surround the fields, growing into massive skyscrapers far away. New Matlock makes the beach seem like a puddle next to an ocean. Eventually we make for the nearest fast-food parking lot, where Ruby turns to me. “So, what happened to you?”

“Oh, this,” gesturing vaguely to my face. “I-” Throwing around excuses is second nature at this point, only this time I stop myself. “Miles an’ I got beat up at Annie’s party last night.”

Ruby’s lip twitches, a hint of our angry heritage peering through. “Joel, I heard some rumours floatin’ around. Now I’m gonna just assume rumours are rumours, but know this. If there were ever anything you needed to tell me, you can. You and I have been together since the day we were born, and there’s nothing that could ever make me turn my back on you. Got it?”

The words slip right out of my mouth without a thought. “I’m gay.”

Suddenly my eyes are welling up. A surge of emotions unexpectedly courses through me. Ruby pulls me close and just says, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Why do I feel so much shame for who I am? Why does it feel so conflicting to reveal a secret I’ve wanted to get off my chest for years?

But Ruby’s small touch of acceptance peers through all the embarrassment, all the anger and shame. Just one small glimmer of hope in what feels like an endless night.

“Tried talkin’ with mom and dad, just ended up a fight. I won’t forgive them for how they’re treating you. These ways of thinking can’t be tolerated anymore, ‘cause then shit like this happens!” She gestures back to my face.

“I thought you were religious like them?”

“I’m a christian, not an idiot. You’re still my little brother. Even if you’re gay, or if you were a murderer for all I care. I love you no matter what.”

I wipe my moistening eyes. “By five fuckin’ minutes.” Ruby hugs me.

Despite my parents lack of empathy, the anonymous group of people who hate my guts and the mixed way I feel about myself, Ruby’s acceptance fills me with warmth. A part of me can’t help but imagine a scenario where Ruby came to tell me this and found a body instead.

“So, here’s the plan.” Ruby digs into her colourful crochet purse for her wallet then unfolds a slip of paper scribbled with numbers. “I figure it should only take a year or two to gather enough cash to move out. I’m looking at part-time positions, but you’ll have to pick up more hours after grad if you wanna keep your smoking habits. There’s still utensils to buy, furniture, and whatever else. But we’ll make it work.”

“Are you for real?”

“I convinced them to let you sleep there for now, but we can’t stay in that home forever. So what’s gonna happen is that you an’ I are gonna work like crazy, then we’re gonna move into the city. We can figure our lives out in a place where we’re both accepted and loved. ‘Case you an’ I both know mom and dad won’t ever give that to us.”

“You aren’t kidding.”

“Nope.” Ruby shakes her head with pride.

“I’d hold you back.”

“From what? Haven’t ya noticed I’ve no clue what I’m doing either? We can figure it out together, somewhere else.”

“You’re a shit roommate already though,” I laugh.

“I’m not exactly a fan of livin’ with your nasty butt,” she replies. I lean my head into hers and whisper, “Why would you do all this for me? After what I’ve done?”

Ruby wraps her arm around my shoulder, “‘Cause as much as our parents will try an’ make you think otherwise, you deserve to be happy. Mom’s curse is bullshit, okay? I love you.”

It seems I made the right decision to stand up from the floor today. Ruby takes me into the drive through and buys us a celebratory feast that I devour in minutes. I almost forgot I hadn’t eaten in days. When our wrappers are crumpled into balls Ruby eyes me strangely. “Hey… so,” she begins, twiddling her thumbs.

I eye her suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Ah- nevermind.”

“No, you’re not doin’ that to me now.”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘never mind’ me, spit it out.”

“Fine, you asked for this.” She grabs a few fries from my bag even though she didn’t order any for herself. “Okay, what kind of boys are you into?”

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Too late, you wanted this.”

“I’m not answerin’ that.”

“You can’t expect me to not be curious, for christ sake I thought you were into girls for the last eighteen years. That’s kind of a big deal.”

“No, it’s not. You never asked what girls I was into before.”

“But now there’s common ground. C’mon, you have to have a type.”

The truth is, I’ve never had a type. I’ve spent so much time ashamed of myself that I never gave it much thought. That isn’t a very interesting answer though, so I say, “Gun to your head, I still wouldn't tell ya.” Then I pull out my phone to try and avoid the conversation.

“Okay, dork. I’ll get my answers eventually.”I type and send a message: “Meet me at the lighthouse at nine.”

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER TWENTY

“Joel?” I croak, crawling on my elbows towards him. It would be pointless to try and stop myself from crying, so I don’t bother. I wasn’t able to see what part of him they were kicking, but his face says it all. His nose drips bright red blood and his face is coated with shoe prints and dirt, with red patches of irritated skin.

“Fuck…” I whisper, words trembling as badly as my hands. “This is all my fucking fault I- I’m so sorry.” 

“Really thought the costume would work,” he chuckles darkly while lifting himself up. I put an arm under his to try and lift him, but I can hardly stand on my own. I need the universe to quit spinning so fast around me first.

By some miracle, the two of us find our footing, stabilizing each other with our weight and holding each other upright before we’re able to let go and stand on our own. Even so, Joel leans over like he’s going to throw up, panting and wiping the blood on his sleeve. He laughs quietly, then takes a few steps towards the front of the house while holding the side of his body, wincing with every step. 

“Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” I cry.

“I’m already hurt if ya haven’t noticed.”

“Can you shut up?” Underneath Joel’s shirt the skin is beet-red, might have broken a bone or two.

“Ain't as bad as it looks,” Joel mumbles.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Thought we went over that yesterday-” 

“Those assholes just beat the shit out of you! Don’t try to lie and tell me you’re fine, cause you’re not.”

“I’ve been beat up more times than I can count. Stressin’ about it is fuckin’ useless.”

“You’re wrong.” I say while Joel limps toward the sidewalk and down the road. I try and keep upright with an arm along his shoulder, but it might be for me as much as him. I almost forgot how wasted I was for a minute, but now that I’m coming down from the adrenaline high I’m aware of my state of intoxication and the pain in my head. I have to let go of Joel to touch the spot, which makes me lose my balance and stumble. If Joel didn’t catch my hand, I would have fallen all the way down the street. “Hold on, lemme see that,” he says, sitting next to me on the curb and rummaging through my hair. His fingers come back red and he curses under his breath. I can tell just from the way he breathes that he’s making an effort not to scream. 

“Those fuckin’-” Joel silences himself.

“That was them, wasn’t it?” I ask.

“Read my mind. They’ve gotten physical now.”

“Well who the hell was it? You have to have some idea.”

“Myers is Aaron, clearly.” He trails off, staring towards the lake. He stands and continues down the hill while I follow.

I must be too drunk to have noticed at the time, but there’s no mistaking that laugh. “Shit. What are we gonna do about it?”

“Nothing,” Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care.”

“What?”

Joel doesn’t respond, and instead picks his bike up from the pavement, handlebars in hand but unmoving. “I’m takin’ you home,” he says hollowly.

“Shit, I didn’t even think of that,” I smack my forehead at my own stupidity. “Dad’s going to be back already, and I can’t come home like this, I’m so screwed!”

“Miles you’re nineteen, who gives a fuck what your dad thinks?”

“My brother and mom are dead. If he finds out I was almost killed tonight he’ll never let me leave the house 'til I move out!” I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands. How could I possibly screw up more in one night? I got Joel beat up, I got drunk and hurt. “Okay, here’s a plan,” I begin pacing back and forth on the empty road. “I tell my dad I’m crashing at Annie’s place for the night, and I can come sleep over at your house until I’m sober. Is that cool?”

Joel’s face turns ice cold, he drops the bike back onto the ground, eyes drifting away from me. He collapses onto the curb as if suddenly he lost the ability to stand.

“It’s a good plan, but I don’t have a house anymore.”

“What?”

“Mum an’ dad didn’t take it well, as expected.”

I sit next to him facing the empty street, only the faint beat of music sounds atop the hill. I don’t know what to say, there’s really nothing to say in response to something like that. I slowly rest my head against his shoulder, where I can feel him fighting the urge to cry.

“But here’s a better plan,” he continues. “You tell your dad you slept at Annie’s, then we’ll sneak you in through your bedroom window.”

“I’m not leaving you alone again,” I whisper.

He pauses, choking back his tears. “You should really just go.”

I shoot up the curb defiantly. “We can pass a few hours until morning, can’t we?”

“You’re kiddin’.”

“I sure ain’t,” I say, mimicking Joel’s drawl.

“Funny guy when you’re drunk eh?”

“The world is basically ending for the both of us. So why don’t we just stop giving a fuck?” My words show in the way my body hangs limply, as if waiting for the wind to blow me away. 

He smiles slightly and stands on wobbly legs. “Fine, since you insist.” He picks his bike back up and hops on the seat.

“I’m not gonna survive a ride on those pegs right now.”

“Oh, right. Guess we can walk.”

“What’s the rush anyway? We’ve got a whole night to kill.”

Joel and I start through the empty town, slowed by our conditions. Though the bleeding stopped after a while, I can’t imagine Joel’s bruises feel any good. If it’s as bad as it should be, he does an excellent job hiding it. eStrangely, there are a lot of things I feel like blurting out at any given second. Things like “Holy shit the moon is cool,” or “jesus christ that girl hitting on me at the party was pretty”. Random things that pop into my mind, many of them I say, many of them I might regret tomorrow morning. Joel comments at the admiring outbursts. From stories I can assume he knows what it’s like, and won’t hold it against me when the sun rises. But there’s an undeniable appreciation I feel for everything around me, from the chirping bugs to the flowers closed for the night. For Joel, who could have made me go home but didn’t, and who corrects my path when I veer off course. There’s not a doubt in my mind he’d carry me home if needed, even though he couldn’t handle my weight.

It turns out I was so distracted with Joel that I forgot to ask where he was taking me. “The corner store?”

“Just a pit stop.”

He asks me to wait outside, so I do. Despite how confident I feel, the empty streets still bring back that unease I’d forgotten since this morning. I keep an eye on him through the front window of the store as he counts the change from his pocket. Eventually he comes back, handing me a bottle of ibuprofen and water.

“Down a couple of these, you’ll feel better.”

We resume the trek North, towards downtown Matlock. Waves crash against the shore not far from us, and they’re loud tonight. Unfortunately the entire sky is black and cloudy now, leaving no room for the moon’s glow to shine through. It’s difficult to see anyway, even when Joel guides the two of us to the sandy shore where we continue our walk. He must have grown tired of carrying that bike around though, so he chains it up again to a tree bordering the beach. We both take off our shoes so we can feel the moist sand under our feet. I still don’t know where we’re going, but when I come around to asking, Joel just says, “You showed me your spot, now it’s my turn.”

I took it to mean that it’s better left a surprise, so I kept my mouth shut on the topic. Otherwise, Joel is quieter than usual overall, so I try to pick things up by talking about video games, something I know Joel likes based on the old systems in his room. Turns out we have a lot of nostalgic overlap, with some differing opinions.

“...and the remaster, oh my god.”  I continue, waving my hands in the air. Joel pushes some trees aside, as we’ve been walking for so long that we’ve passed the beach and find ourselves in the wooded area outside of town. The walk became exhausting as the terrain slowly inclined. Joel and I each hold our phones out as flashlights.

“Miles…”

“What a lazy, cash-grab piece of dogshit, right?” 

“Miles,” he says again, when I notice he’s looking at me. I look him in the eyes back, “Jesus, sorry. Wow I’m rambling tonight.”

“You know I love your rambling, but we’re here.”

My cheeks feel hot before I realize our destination. It’s the lighthouse from the edge of town, though I’ve never seen it this close before. Mateo pointed it out to me once, droned on about how pretty it was, how he’d take me one day.

The stone structure stands taller than I would have expected from a distance, but it's near impossible to see in the dark. It hasn’t been lit since I’ve lived here, so I have to assume it’s out of commission. “Woah,” I shine my light high up. 

He grins and starts to the side of the massive structure. Following him, I stagger back at the sight of a cliffside, leading to the rocky shore below.

“Annie an’ I used to blaze here, not so much lately. Think Otto’s been talking her out of it.” 

“Yeah, he got weird tonight about Annie drinking too much. He’s got a thing for her you know.”

“I thought everyone knew that? She doesn’t like him back though, says he’s just a study partner.”

I walk and lean slightly over the ledge. “He and Annie were arguing though.” 

Joel holds me back with his arm, “Careful there.”

It’s probably not a great idea to walk near an edge in my condition, so I sit a few feet back on the grass. I lay on my back to take in the size of the structure. Clouds shift, the moon’s glow peaks through to illuminate the lake.

“It’s not so surprising,” Joel sighs. “He doesn’t have to be weird about it… but it’s gotta be hard liking someone who doesn’t like you back.”

A moment of silence as the clouds continue to shift, slowly but surely revealing the vast sky. “Check it out,” I say. Joel groans and falls back, face close to mine so that I can clearly hear his jagged hot breath close to my ear.

“They’re so bright tonight,” Joel remarks. “I miss how the stars look out here, away from town.”

“The only thing I love about leaving the city is that I can always see them.”

“You miss it a lot?”

“Yeah, maybe. I miss the way things were when I lived there, when I had my mom, a brother. But I dunno. When we left for the last time noticed I left my window open. And maybe it sounds dumb, but it felt like a sign that we shouldn’t have left.”

“So you’re probably gonna move back now that you’re graduating?”

“I doubt it. My Dad needs me, this is where my mom grew up, and where my brother last lived. Plus you’re here. But… lately I wish I could just vanish without a trace, you know?”

Joel turns to face me. “You think about runnin’ away?”

“Just daydreams,” I reply. “When I was a little kid I tried it, before I was too scared to even leave the house. Maybe if all that fear went away I could, but sometimes I feel like I’m locked in a box.”

“Makes sense considering what you just went through. But you’ll get back on track like you did before. Right?”

“Right,” I smile. I tilt my head up to gaze at the sky, spotting a smudgy white mark. “You see that? It’s just above the horizon.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re pointin’ at,” Joel replies.

I put my face close to his, so that I can more accurately point with his line of sight. “That little oval right there. That’s the Andromeda galaxy, the closest galaxy to our ours, and the farthest thing you can see with your eyes.”

“Woah, pretty freaky. You’re really into that astronomy shit, right?”

“What gave it away?”

“The paintings, telescope, posters, this conversation. I could go on.”

“It’s a bit of a passion of mine.”

“Oh yeah? What else can ya show me?”

I try to recall the objects visible in the night sky tonight. I shift my head to view another area of the sky, not too far from Andromeda. “That’s Jupiter right there…”  I say, pointing close to him. “...and that right next to it… I’m pretty sure that’s Saturn. Makes me wish I had a more powerful telescope. Even without it, looking at all these distant objects changes my whole perspective on the world. It’s awe-inspiring.”

“I like hearing you talk about it. Makes me feel like dust.”

“It messes with your head in the best way. Makes our human problems feel insignificant.” I’m about to continue but Joel releases a shuttered breath, like he has something difficult to say, so I wait.

“You heard of the Fermi paradox?” He asks.

The Fermi Paradox is the idea that the universe, as vast and ancient as it is, should be teeming with alien life already. Intelligent beings should have already populated the entire universe with all the time that’s passed, but we’ve found nothing. many scientists believe that life is impossible to exist after a certain point in development. Whether its destroying their habitat, killing each other, or extinction events like asteroids or gamma ray bursts. “I’m familiar. Why do you ask?”

“Yesterday in the woods I told you how hopeless I felt. That’s why.” Joel mumbles.

“Because aliens might not be real?”

“Let me finish. The Fermi Paradox inspired my own idea. ” After lying back down on the grass, Joel reaches his arms out towards Jupiter, then allows them to fall back to his sides. “Social media is like a telescope to the rest of the world, an’ I still don’t see anyone like me getting a happy ending. I’ve never heard a song about love between two men, or two women. If g-... if people like me can be happy… where are they?”

“What kind of ending is that?” I ask.

“Just an ending with a good life. With someone I love who loves me back, and never stops,” he whispers. “But it’s impossible. Tonight is exactly why.”

I’d never have expected Joel to be a romantic. But maybe I had him all wrong, maybe he only became the person he is because of the way he was always beaten down by his family and the world to feel hopeless. Maybe Joel only acts the way he does because he doesn’t see a point in rooting for a future it doesn’t look like he can have.

“Let’s climb to the top of this thing,” I say.

“I dunno if we can get in,” he sniffles.

“Did that stop us at the diner? Or my house?”

“Guess not,” Joel stands and coughs again. He seems surprised when I grab his wrist and pull him all the way to the front of the building, where we come to face a wooden barricade. It seems like a dead end until we wander around the back and discover a window we might be able to climb through. There’s no way Joel can reach it on his own though, so I clasp my fingers together to boost him up.

“Don’t cut yourself on that glass,” I say, hoisting him up.

“Yeah yeah.” He crawls halfway through the frame and extends a hand.

 He’s weak from the fight and general body mass, but he’s able to counterbalance enough that I can walk up the side, then fall after him into the cylindrical building. Thankfully, we land a short ways up the wooden staircase so the fall isn't too far. I wipe the dirt off my pants and snort, because I totally forgot I was dressed like Spider-man. Joel rolls his eyes probably thinking I’m crazy, and shines his light through the room.

It looks even bigger on the inside despite a more limited view. We shine our lights upwards in unison where a rickety spiraling staircase winds up and up without coming to a visible end. I make one step up, and it creaks loudly below my feet, a sound that shouldn't be funny, but somehow is. “Let’s go!” I exclaim, grabbing Joel by the wrist again before he’s had a chance to properly gain his bearings. Spiraling and spiraling, the steps creak and crack under our feet, but I’m not anxious about it as I’d normally be. A step or two will bend under our weight, but we persist without a glance back. We’re both winded when we arrive at the top, which is a small room below where the spotlight would normally be. There’s a trap door in the ceiling, and a short ladder at the far end of the room. The scent of rat leavings and mildew has us plugging our noses, so we make it up the ladder as fast as we can, pushing through the trap door to reveal a balcony surrounded by metal railings.

Joel dusts off his pants and checks his calves for ticks, until he looks up at the view, which is nothing short of breathtaking. The moon is in full view now, hanging gracefully above the water which reflects its magnificent glow in ripples across short waves. The clouds frame the scene perfectly, an astonishing final touch on a painting yet to be. I grasp the rail and lean over to view of the ground below. We spend a second watching down while wave after wave crashes into the rocky cliffside, spraying water upwards with its force.

Around the opposing side of the balcony, we’re able to see Matlock Beach in its entirety, but on a grand scale unachievable from Annie’s rooftop. Speaking of, the house is clear atop its hill. The lights still blare inside and I blow a sigh of relief knowing I won’t ever have to go to one of those again. Other than that, Matlock looks so peaceful from up here, houses among trees, the school and churches and the downtown block, only tainted by the glowing eyes peeking through the trees. Caught up in the sight, I hadn’t noticed the strong winds that are blocked off from the side that faces the water, and I’m nearly blown into the railings before Joel steadies me.

“Was waitin’ for somethin’ like that to happen, let's sit.”

We go back to the side that faces the lake, where we both sit with our legs through the railings, only one small bar separating mine from his.

After minutes fly by watching the horizon, Joel hangs his arms loosely from the bars. The moon highlights the puffiness of his face, reminding me of exactly why I brought him up here.

“So, there are a few theories disproving the Fermi paradox, but this one's my favourite,” I begin. “Since the big bang, the universe has been expanding at an accelerating rate. Every single galaxy has been moving farther away from each other for almost fourteen billion years. So, where are the aliens? Well naturally, a smaller universe with just as much shit flying around in it is more chaotic than an older, larger universe. That means more stuff to kill you or, say, a developing civilization.  Asteroids supernovae, or gamma ray bursts can all end a world in a snap. “But, some have posed this question: what if the only reason we still exist is because of the universe's expansion? Now that enough time has passed, these world-ending events no longer occur so frequently. Some think we came along at just the right time to live in a peaceful universe, and maybe we’re the only life we’ve seen yet, but we’re just the first of so many.”

“Well said man, I almost forgot you were drunk.” Joel chuckles. ”It’s a beautiful thought, and your optimism is what I love about you. But what’s it got to do with me?”

“People like us haven’t had it the greatest through history. Some truly evil people made us think it better to hide than be who we really are. But the world is finally changing. Every single year more and more of society is growing to accept us.” Gazing out into the stars once again, Joel watches with me. “The stars and galaxies seem static, maybe they’re just too slow for us to see. Maybe if we hold tight and come back in a while, things will be a little different.”

“People like…us?“ Joel mumbles. “We should listen to some music,” he says.

“Joel-”

“I’m glad you’re hopeful, but I don’t understand. Look at everything that’s happening to us and tell me things get better.”

“Things will get better,” I say. “Maybe not everyone can see it but I know you’re an incredible pearson who’s just trapped in a closed-minded town. I understand.”

Joel sighs, “Thanks Miles, but let’s talk it over more later.”

“Take some time to think on it. But yeah, some music would be great.”

“Give me something nice to listen to.”

“Oh, uh,” I feel the ground for some grass before realizing we’re a hundred feet in the air. “I dunno if you’d really like my music.”

Joel laughs, “I’ve always thought a person’s music taste tells the most about their character. Probably why Aaron mostly listens to country. I’ve known you for what? A year, year and a half?”

“Something like that.” 

“...and I still feel like I should know more about you. So show me. There’s no judgemnent unless all your music is about beer and trucks.”

“Damn there goes my library,” I joke. Joel playfully shoves me aside. Having Joel in my room the other night was terrifying, because seeing my art is like seeing a piece of myself that I’m not so open about to everyone. In a way, the same thing applies to the music I listen to. Every time my dad would ask me to fill the silence in the car, or every time I had to turn the volume down in class, I felt like I was hiding myself. I don’t want to be that way for Joel anymore, nothing about him makes me think he’d judge me for these things.

So my heart doesn’t pound when I take my phone out again and begin from the first track of my favourite album. Then, I lay down again and allow the music to play over the wind. I’m starting to wonder if the alcohol is the only reason for the way I feel right now, the steady beat of my heart and the elation. Am I just drunk, or is this the way Joel makes me feel? The thought of walking through the woods and the empty streets of Matlock Beach, of playing video games and laying on the warm sand with him all fill my head, and I look at him. If Joel was kicked out of his house tonight, what’s he going to do? If he loses everything, he needs to have something left to fall back on, like how I do with my paintings. In the periods of my life where my art came to a halt, when I couldn’t bring myself to pick up a pencil I can recall as some of the darkest times in my life, but he doesn’t have that. Everyone needs to have that one thing they can fight for.

The opening guitar begins, Joel’s left hand limply mimics the chords.

“You play, right?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“I saw that guitar in your room once, do you play it?”

“Not so much anymore, my old man gave it to me years ago, but I learnt what I know on my own. You can imagine how that’s gone. Maybe if my tiny hands had a ukulele or somethin’ I’d stand a chance.”

“Maybe you could play something for me sometime?”

“Got nothin’ to play.”

“Well, why don’t you make something then?”

Joel laughs, “I couldn’t do that, don’t got enough brain cells to write anything.”

“You’re not an idiot, you know. You could write something amazing if you gave it a real shot. Or you could scribble down a bunch of words that don’t make any sense. It’s not like music has rules.”

“Seems like a waste of time.”

“You know, I’ve drawn and painted for almost my entire life. At first I wanted to draw superheroes, monsters, and cartoons, but then I grew up and realized the world sucks complete ass. Maybe this’ll surprise you, but I’m fully aware how everything's absolute dogshit all the time. I used to just sit in my room every single day and let it crush me. Then I turned all the shit I felt into paintings, I took bad feelings and I used them to make good things, and it’ll never make the problems go away, but it can lift the weight off just a little bit every day.”

 Joel dangles his legs over the edge of the lighthouse, ”But what’s the point.” “The point is that when I make something that looks beautiful, it makes me feel like my life has a point. I can release my emotions instead of letting them fester inside me forever.”

He leans into the bars of the railing and sighs, “scribbling some words onto a paper ain’t gonna make my life make any sense. Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

I lay down onto the cold ground, since my head is beginning to ache again. Joel does the same, slowly and shakily. I forgot all about the possibility of broken bones, but judging by his ability to climb all the way up here, I have to assume he’s going to survive. “Just try it, okay? For me?”

“Okay,” he replies.

The two of us lay in silence for a few seconds, staring at the milky way above. But my eyes trail back a little, up to the top of the lighthouse. Right above our heads this whole time has been graffiti in bright red, depicting three words. I point it out to Joel right away, but he just rolls his eyes.

“That’s what was written in that tunnel, and in the caves underground,” I note. 

“So? Those words are everywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

Joel chuckles, “You wanna hear somethin’ crazy?”

“Always,” I reply enthusiastically.

“Those three words follow me everywhere I go, since I was a baby. Not just around town neither. They’re all over my house, written on my phone, written on the ceilings on my parents house an’ the condensation in the bathroom mirror when I wake up. Hell, they were the last thing my grand dad ever said to me, but I hadn’t mentioned it to him before. I told you I thought supernatural junk was nonsense, but that’s the closest I got to ever believin’.”

Joel pauses for a few seconds before he realizes I’m staring at him with wide eyes.

“Hey Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna hear something even crazier?”

So I explain everything that happened. All the glowing eyes I’d seen since Mateo disappeared, the words, “HOURS TO HOURS” written over ever surface of the cave, in the history book we found down there, the monster that attacked me last night.

“It was whispering those words to me while it dragged me away. It took Mateo, it tried to kill me, and it might be responsible for what’s happening to you too.”

“That’s why you’ve been on edge lately, lookin’ behind everywhere you go.”

“Exactly. There isn’t a killer in Matlock, there’s some… alien, or monster, or something, that’s taking people.”

Now that we’re sitting up for my rambling tale, Joel looks away, quiet.

“Look, I know it’s crazy,” I put my hands down, after waving them around in the air for my story, “but I swear that something is happening here that neither of us can explain, I know I’m crazy, I-”

“I believe you,” Joel states matter-of-factly.

I pause, my mouth agape, “You what?”

“Every word.”

“Why?”

“Whadda ya mean why?”

“Is that not completely insane?”

“It is, but you aren’t. I know you’re not a lunatic, or a liar.”

“What?” I ask again in disbelief. There’s no way he could actually believe all of that with no problem, right? 

“Ya’know Miles,” he intertwines his fingers behind his head, taking in the blanket of stars above us, “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

I gaze with him, “So am I, but-”

“You should think about this more when you’re sober.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s probably right.”

It’s strange, the combination of Joel’s wavy brown hair lit by the moon, the way it blows in the wind and the sad smile on his pale lips. Strange the way its making my chest flutter, which is a feeling no other crazy event tonight has made me feel. It’s good, but also a bit frightening, which is weird in of itself, because after last night I thought nothing would scare me anymore. Why am I so nervous?

It’s like beer pong, kind of. It was something I had never really thought about trying. Not because I didn’t want to try it, but because I never really thought I could. If I learned anything tonight, it’s that literally anything can happen, and why should I hold myself back when there might not even be a tomorrow to try again?

While looking into Joel’s eyes, I place my hand on his shoulder to lean in and kiss him.

He lurches back as if my mouth gave him an electric shock, eyes gaping wide, then he laughs a little, and resumes his relaxed position.

Wait, no, that was a horrible, horrible idea. “I-I’m so sorry, that was so not cool,” I run my fingers though my hair anxiously. Oh my god, what the hell was I thinking?”

“Chill, man. It’s alright, you’re just drunk.”

“No, no no that-”

“It’s okay, really. I promise,” He laughs like it’s no big deal,  “Why don’t ya lay down?”

I turn my body to face away from Joel so he can’t see the blood rushing though my face, and my eyes shut to the cawing of a crow as the distant waves on Matlock Beach sing me to sleep.

Fuck.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER NINETEEN

The whispering began the moment I closed my eyes. I thought it was in my head at first, but the more I tried to ignore it the louder it grew. When the drugs took over and I began drifting off, it would say Mateo’s name through the glass. When I nearly did fall asleep, all it took was one loud bang on the window to ensure I wasn’t sleeping for a long time. Eventually I threw on a pair of headphones, but it didn’t make the presence go away. I thought about calling the cops or my dad, but that would only multiply my dad’s paranoia by ten, or have me thrown into another psyche ward. All I could do was wait it out.

Eventually, the sun shone through the blinds and my dad came through the front door yawning with three empty coffee cups stacked. The whispering had been over for hours but it didn’t ease my worries whatsoever, it felt like a trap to let my guard down. Which means the last thing I needed was my dad to take another overnight shift. I’ll be alone, and I couldn’t deal with that again.

Hours passed of pacing my room back and forth trying to figure out what to do, until an escape was handed to me on a silver platter, a text from Joel: “Can I take u to annies dumb party later?”

So I managed to get some sleep until eight pm rolled around.

“This is only a get together?” Dad asks while combing his hair in the bathroom mirror.

“Yes, dad.”

“Is there going to be an adult there?”

I deadpanned, “I’m an adult.”

“No drugs or alcohol?”

“There’s going to be like five people there, and three of them are from the church study group.” Sometimes it concerns me how easily I can lie to my father. My mom I could tell anything. Dad just makes a big deal about everything, even before members of our family started dropping like flies.

“And that Joel kid?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how much he knows and much he should know. “What about him?”

He throws a brown leather jacket over his large shoulders and looks at me, “I know you’ve been hanging out with him.”

“So?”

“Have you heard what people say about him? That boy is trouble, always has been. He steals and gets into fights, smokes drugs in the middle of the street. I don’t want you to be around someone like that.”

“It’s not your problem who I hang out with.”

My dad finishes rubbing his dirty jeans with a cloth and points at my face, “It absolutely is, Miles. Because when you get into a car with someone who is high, or drunk, and get yourself killed, it will absolutely be my problem.”

“Dad, I know we’ve gone through a lot, and I get being paranoid, but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

“I’m not-” His furrowed eyebrows slant back into the friendliness I’ve been missing for so long. “I don’t think you’re stupid. That’s why I’m trusting you to listen to me.”

“He won’t be there anyways.”

“Right, well,” He continues tying his shoelaces. “Just promise me you’ll stay safe. You don't go off alone and you don’t do anything dangerous, no matter what.”

“I won’t dad,” I say. “It’s straight home afterwards.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

My eyes shift once again to the clock hanging above the dining room table. Joel was supposed to come pick me up five minutes ago.

“Bye dad,” I say, poorly masking my eagerness. His pale brown eyes dig into mine. “Things have been hard, but I want you to try and have a good night tonight. Okay?” 

“Yes dad.” I smile awkwardly while he shuts the door behind him, I run to the window to make sure Joel hasn’t arrived yet. 

I can’t believe how any adults in this town spread rumours about teenagers. Maybe it’s all true, but so what? It’s not like I love the fact that Joel has been a criminal for pretty much his entire life, but I know things like that don’t define people. Joel is a beautiful person because there’s so much complexity to dig though, so much background for him being exactly the way he is. Getting to know the person under all of the surface-level rumours is what you need to do to meet some of the most interesting people. 

Just then, five quick knocks sound on the other side of the door, I open it to find Joel waiting outside. Though all I see through each eyehole are two bright bloodshot eyes.

”I thought you were coming as a zombie?”

“You ever try makeup? Shit ain’t easy or cheap. What’re you goin’ as?”

I unzip my backpack to reveal the black and red Spider-Man suit that I used in tenth grade. Joel chuckles. “Miles Morales, right?” He waves me out the door.

“I didn’t know you cared about superheroes.”

“I don’t. You had ‘em on that comic you brought to class last week, did some research.”

Rubbing my forearms, I wonder how many other little things he’s noticed about me. I catch up to Joel speed walking to the end of the driveway. I feel like I should be embarrassed, but the fact he cared enough to do research fills my stomach with butterflies. “By the way, what happened to your face?” Joel asks.

“Dunnno, must’ve scratched it up while I was sleeping.”

“Helluva scratch.”

“Hold on, where’s your ride?” I ask, realizing we’re on the street without a car in sight. I didn’t expect him to have is car fixed already, but I figured his sister might be able to drive us.

“Right here,” he picks up a rusted blue bicycle with a busted bell and cracked handlebars, and lifts his sheet so it doesn’t catch in the gears. He notices my look of concern, says, “Sis is out of town today, this is all I got. Go on, there’s pegs.” Joel struggles to peddle us down the streets, but I’m impressed he’s able to move the two of us at all considering his and my own size.

Oranges and yellows beam through the cloudy sky, unique shades that have me itching to find the colour mixture that will match. I imagine a shot of this exact scene, where Joel and I are riding down the streets on his bike, both in costume on our way to some dumb party I don’t even really want to go to. But even so, I can see the scene in my mind, and it’s beautiful. 

When we turn right onto Edith Street, Joel stops pedaling at the base of the incline, where the buzz of the music vibrates the pavement. I step off the pegs and dust the dirt off my pants as Joel locks it firmly against a tall black pole. Suddenly, about half of the street lights flicker eerily to life, which illuminates my frosty breath. Joel’s ears perk up like he’s heard something, but doesn’t say anything.

He’s understandably a bit shorter on words than normal, so I decide to pick up the conversation. “How long have you guys had these parties again?”

Joel glances at the sky, “Since we met. So that’d be ninth grade.” 

“Are they usually pretty crazy?”

“Kid got sent to the hospital after everyone cheered ‘em on to jump off the balcony. He was ‘sposed to land in the pool but… missed.”

“Jesus, was he okay?”

“Gotta ask Annie that one, had five drinks too many that night,” his eyes wince as if recollecting a bad memory.

It’s kind of weird to picture Joel getting drunk, but I have to imagine there’s a reason he’s sworn it off so strongly since then.

I realize how Joel squints at me through the eye holes. Then he reaches into a pocket and places something rectangular and metallic in my hand: a flask.

“This might ease the tension a bit,” he says.

“You think I’m tense?”

Joel chuckles, “Nah, Miles freaking Ramos is totally chill on his way to his first ever party right now.” Wish I could explain that he doesn’t know the half of it, better saved for later though. “Where did you even get this?”

“Not important.”

“Okay, so why’d you steal this from your parents for me?”

Joel takes his hands from his pockets and rubs his wrist. “‘Cause bad shit happens. Always has, always will. Tonight I want us to have the best time we can, and tomorrow more awful things will happen. Take the booze or don’t, I just don’t want nerves to ruin your fun.”

Is alcohol really going to make me have fun tonight? Could it really make things much worse? I’m headed to a halloween party in the middle of Summer with a gay ghost, while a real life ghost is trying to kill me. Like Joel said, tomorrow I could be dead, but tonight I can have some fun. Do I really want to die without this experience?

Regardless, the situation is strange enough as is, so maybe I should just listen to Joel and try to turn off my brain for once.

Unscrewing the cap I take a huge swig. I thought I knew what to expect based on the smell, but it takes good effort not to spit it right out. It’s more in line with what I imagine gasoline to taste like, burning my throat like fire. 

“Shit dude, you took it like a champ.” He pats me on the back.

Before I can reply, I drink even more as the music grows louder. There are silhouettes a dancing crowd, so many more than I expected. Even though an ethereal sensation has set in, I don’t yet have all that confidence I heard so much about.

Once the flask has been emptied, Joel follows as I run to the side of Annie’s house to slip into costume.

“This thing looks pretty good on you still.”

“Still?”

“You were wearing that in a photo on your wall.”

“Oh, I forgot all about that picture.” Joel’s knack for small details still surprises me, maybe because I expect the memory of a burnout. 

We both head to the front of the house, where the music blares behind the door in full force.

The intake of bass, smells, and lights overwhelms me instantly. The floor vibrates under my shoes, but the smells only hit me inside. While I’m assaulted by a cocktail of weed, hard liquor and sweat, chaos ensues before me. Someone yells to turn down the music, someone else hangs from the spiral staircase unconscious, a girl and a boy from my class are making out on the couch while other boys nudge them out of the way to continue their Call of Duty match. 

Annie’s house is one enormous room with a small hallway for the bathroom and extra bedroom. Her’s is located on a loft above the living room with a spiral staircase to reach the top, which is basically an entire floor to herself that leads right to the roof.

I might think about how jealous it makes me, but everything else is so overwhelming I can’t even think. Now that a few minutes have passed since the liquor, there’s a vague numbness to my thoughts, but a burning sensation in my stomach.

“You ever think about how alcohol is just poison?” I yell at Joel over the music.

“Huh, so it is,” Joel yells back.

“Like the person who figured that out had to have been trying to kill someone.”

“You askin’ for more?”

“Maybe?” I reply. 

Joel nonchalantly walks to the kitchen, and pours himself a coke from the collection bottles and garbage littering the countertop. From half-full liquor bottles, pop, a few lighters, and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs that I don’t even want to question. Several people sit at the bar stools on the other side of Joel and I making their own conversation. There’s the goth girl from pre-calculus dressed as a witch, a freshman girl wearing cat ears, and three other people I don’t recognize who aren’t wearing costumes at all. In fact, most people here are dressed casually, I guess graduation means no fun allowed.

I take a cup from the pile and put some water in it from the fridge dispenser when I jump at the touch of a hand on my shoulder.

“Woah, jumpy?” The witch from the table says, leaning uncomfortably over my shoulder. “Looks like you need a real drink.” Her words are breathy and reek of wine, and her eyes droop a little as she looks me up and down. She turns to the counter where she pours two different liquids I can’t see into a cup and hands it to me. Eyeing Joel behind her, his eyes only hang towards the floor. This girl is creeping me out a little, but some part of that excites me. I shrug and take the cup. 

“What was your name again?” She leans over my shoulder heavily as her long flowing black hair falls into her eyes.

“Uh, it’s Miles. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Cute name for a cute guy. My name’s Sam. What do you say we get out of here?” 

“But we just got here?” I take a sip of the drink. It tastes like a half cup of liquor, and a half cup of Dr. Pepper. It’s difficult to not make a face while drinking it, but I do my best in front of the drunk witch.

Wait, is this girl hitting on me?

“My parents are gone for the whole night, why don’t we-” The cute but pervy witch is suddenly yanked away from my face and stumbles back onto the dance floor.

“Back the fuck off Sam, Miles isn’t interested.”

Sam falls to the ground and flips Annie off with both hands before standing and turning to someone else. I should probably feel creeped out, but the fuzziness in my head is making me feel otherwise. Maybe that was a recipe for disaster, but it was an interesting one. She seemed interesting.

“That bitch is a creep when she’s slammed,” Annie says.

“Maybe I like creeps, you don’t know that.”

Annie takes the empty cup from my hand and crushes it. “You need something real to drink, we’re playing beer pong, you interested?”

I decide to withhold the information that I have definitely had something real to drink, but the game intrigues me. Hypothetically, if this is the only real chance I get to get wasted at a party in my life, would it even be right not to take it? If I’m killed before I get the chance won’t my ghost be pissed off that I didn’t get hammered with a bunch of strangers? Despite the monster out to kill me, it seems like such a non-issue all of a sudden. My problems feel like they belong to another person right now, and the relief is wonderful.

Annie sets up the ping pong table, usually folded in the corner, and asks me to arrange red solo cups in a triangle on one side while she handles the other. Once the game is ready and drinks are poured, I realize we need more players. Annie teams up with me, and two of her friends join the other side

Two more vodka-diluted drinks of Dr. Pepper and a game of beer pong later, I’m forgetting about every single awful thing that’s been happening. Annie and I decided to go hard from the get go. We pretended to huddle together like we were a team in a sports game to show we meant business. Then, Annie stalled her shot just long enough that when the other girls were distracted, she leaned over and placed the ball in the cup. I saw it plain as day, but even I cheered and bumped her fist like she had made the shot without cheating. She even got the ball in when she dared me to cover her eyes for it, but I made sure there was just a little bit of space so she could cheat. I didn’t care though, we won, and we laughed our asses off until the very end. “You my guy, are my beer pong partner for life.” I pick up Annie by the waist and spin her around in excitement, nearly toppling to the ground. 

A man in a Michael Myers mask pours Annie a drink, but the liquor just keeps coming. Regardless, she downs it within seconds. Sweaty and out of breath, she collapses to the couch, I follow right next to her. She leans her head into my shoulder, “Hey Miles....?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I drank too much.” 

“You good?”

Annie looks as me with droopy brown eyes, says, “I like you. You’re a… you’re a really good friend.” She snorts, her eyes shut.

“For real Annie, are you okay?” I yell over the music but don’t know if she can hear me.

“Annie, I need to speak with you,” a forceful voice pierces the music. It comes as a shock to find that Otto was speaking in such a way.

“Oddo?” I ask, “What’re you doing here?”

“Can you give us a moment?” he yells. With a confused eyebrow I stumble off the couch, legs not quite cooperating. Only making it a few feet away I manage to catch a snippet of conversation. “...Don’t care” Is heard between the rising and falling bass. “Where is he?”

Jeez, is Aaron in deep shit again? Suddenly Otto stands and walks away, grabs a water, making odd eye contact with Michael Myers.

I thought five seconds ago I wanted to give them space, but now I have an irresistible urge to know what they’re talking about. I didn’t think I was the nosey type, maybe I’m just too scared all the time to be nosey. Why can’t I always feel like this? The thumping bass of the song clouds their words, but I wander close enough to hear more.

“I thought you knew not to drink this much,” He yells above the music.

“You weren’t such a buzzkill the other night,” She replies. I sit at the island in a crowd, but in a matter of seconds their conversation devolves into an argument. “So?!” Annie roars. “So? You’re not my boyfriend. Mind your fuckin’ business sometimes man.” In no time at all Annie stands on her wobbly legs, walks back over to the kitchen and pours herself another drink with a defiant expression. “Is everything okay?” I ask.

“No. Otto’s overprotective as fuck and kind of clingy.”

“He told me last night. Said he loves you and was worried about you.” Should I have told her that? Words just seem to slip right out of my brain. 

“I dunno man. He just can’t take no for an answer.”

Suddenly my eyes skim over the corner where Joel was standing earlier, but he isn’t there anymore. I continue scanning the wall he was at, then through the crowd, but he’s nowhere. I have half a mind to question it before Annie throws up into her kitchen garbage can. Otto rolls his eyes and grabs her shoulders, guiding her away from the party and towards the bathroom. Some people laugh, another girl pats Annie on the shoulder as Otto helps her stumble away.

I decide to make my way right after her, just to make sure she’s alright. Down the hall and through the open doorway, Annie spits into her toilet while Otto pats her back lightly.

“Is she alright?” I ask, leaning my into the wall of the twisting hallway. The music isn’t so loud in this part of the house, which I didn’t realize was bothering me until the relief came.

Annie looks at me and smiles. “A’m doing effin’ great.” She spits into the toilet repeatedly. 

“She’s going to be fine,” Otto answers and hands Annie his cup of water. “You go have fun.”

“But-”

Annie wipes her mouth off with her sleeve. “‘I’m good dude, seriously. Go chill with Joel or something, have a good time. Don’t go home with Sam.”

“Right, got it,” I reply, retreating back into the hall. “Feel better Anne.”

“I’ll try!” she exclaims faintly.

My ears perk up to the sound of crashing in the background followed by a cheering crowd. Soon the entire room is chanting “Jump!” over and over. But I turn anyway and return to the party since Annie’s out of commission.

Scanning the room for Joel, he’s nowhere to be seen. Right, I noticed that earlier, but my brain skimmed over almost right away. How could I not care about that? I wander to the kitchen, then towards the cooler. Where could he have gone? I was only away for a couple of minutes. But my wrist reads eleven-twenty, a number that doesn’t connect until it strikes me I left Joel completely alone for nearly an hour and a half. I slap my forehead, because its completely obvious why Joel isn’t here anymore: I ditched him, he left.

If Annie remembers anything tonight, I guess she won’t notice me leaving either. The only thing to do now is go home and hope Joel can forgive me. On my way out the door I shoot him a text. “Dude im SO sorry i dindnt even realize how logn its been. Wanna ang out still?”

“Damn,” I mumble to myself. “I suck.”

The near-midnight air is crisp, and the moon lights the sky aglow with its white beauty. Three are other students who have turned their hockey masks to the top of their faces, thrown their fake piercings off to the side to smoke and vape where they won’t be bothered. It reminds me of the cigarette in my pocket that I have to dispose of before I arrive home.

After my long walk home, alone, in the dark, with a ghost out to kill me. When I check my phone, he obviously hasn’t replied. The least I can do is try and call him. The phone rings, and rings, and rings, but no one answers. I call again, and again, when I finally give up and head towards the street, a faint ringtone sounds round the corner of the house. I call again, following the sound around the dark side of the house. “Joel?” I call to no answer. “JOEL!” I scream, sudden panic overwhelming me. As I walk, a new sound reaches my ears. It was muffled by the steady thumping of music, but now it’s growing louder and louder. I click on my phone’s screen, and in the dim light it provides I’m able to make out an object on the floor, a piece of fabric. I gingerly pick it up to discover a white dingy sheet with two eye-holes cut through. Two more feet, and only now do I get the sense to use my flashlight, but when I light it, a face stares right back at me. It’s the tall person in the Michael Myers costume, who startles me so much that I scream and fall back onto the grass. Then I look to the floor, where Joel is laying on the ground as another person in a pumpkin mask holds his arms behind his back.

I stagger back on my elbows and heels, unable to take in what’s happening, the urge to flee coming in split-second waves while my drunk brain tries to figure out what to do.

Three people, none with immediately identifiable features in this dark. Myers, who has stopped kicking Joel for a moment, a shorter person wearing the pumpkin mask, and one other person of average height standing with their arms clasped behind them wearing a ski mask. Myers steps closer and giggles, while the one standing in the background squints in my direction. I need to run, but I can’t leave Joel again. With flight off the table, fight is my only option.

I take a swing at Myers, while the other two chuckle in the background, a man and a woman. Myers takes one tiny step backward, dodging my embarrassingly off-track fist. He uses the opening to step in, and easily shoves me off balance where my skull collides with something hard. Immediately shocking my brain with fresh waves of pain from my previous night’s head injury. Myers laughs some more, the ski mask nudges him and he falls silent. The ski mask then cocks his head back towards Joel, writhing on the ground. “Don’t you fucking touch him again,” Joel wheezes. Ski mask kicks him hard in the ribs, ejecting Joel’s breath from his body. Myers and the pumpkin join in, kicking him in quick succession while I’m helpless to stop it. But Joel doesn’t scream, he doesn’t cry, doesn’t even attempt to escape. For a moment I consider that he might be unconscious, but his eyes are open, and staring blankly at the ground while tears well in his red eyes.

“STOP IT,” I roar, clawing myself off the ground in an attempt to regain my footing, to take another swing, to do anything I can to stop them. “Stop it!” I stand while the Earth spins, then slips from under my feet. Myers snorts, and ski mask punches him hard in the shoulder. He allows Myers and pumpkin head to finish beating Joel down until their sick needs are satisfied. Ski mask cocks his head, a signal drawing the other two away from the scene. He lingers though, lifts the black fabric to spit on Joel’s limp body. Before passing, the shorter girl in the pumpkin mask gives me one more good kick that takes the wind from my lungs. They disappear around the corner without so much as a word, only one short and familiar cackle.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Miles

The tense fingertips digging into my arm finally release once I set foot inside my empty home.

Of course I offered Joel a place to sleep tonight, but he only said, “Gotta face my fear before it can pass through.” It was disappointing, but nice to see him taking my advice. Dad usually takes an extra night shift when he’s able, and if he isn’t here by now it means he’ll be working until at least twelve, plus the drive means he won’t be home until one in the morning. Since I came back from the caves he hasn’t trusted a word from my mouth. Just like Otto he denied every claim I made about Mateo. He’s still angry that I went, and I’m still angry the police didn’t take our call seriously. 

 The house is dark and hollow, which isn’t just for a lack of furniture. I used to hate clutter, now I long for it. When mom died, the place was clean with no one to cut photos and paper flowers for scrap books, no one to cook our meals from scratch every night. Now that Mateo is gone and dad is barely around, the place is spotless. The cleanliness is a reminder that no one is around to make midnight snacks, to steal all the cereal before I can. It’s just me, alone.

The loneliness is always intense after a night of happiness, so I stop and breathe, reaching for the warm feeling my friends brought me.

On the couch, Goose soundly swings her tail off the end. I rub her chin and cheeks and she purrs at my touch. “At least I still have you.”

Memories of my brother draw me to his computer. He spent years at this thing, honing his skills as an artist. Then, as my big brother's shadow, I inevitably followed in his footsteps. When he’d gotten good at it, I constantly asked him to draw things for me. I would watch wide-eyed as he brought my ideas to life, and the inspiration I felt never left me. My brother shaped who I am today, when he left a piece of me died. Now I can trace my finger through the thin layer of dust on the screen.

Mateo still on my mind, I can’t put it off another second. My backpack falls off my shoulder and I pull out the book Mateo left deep underground. I wonder if this is the last thing he ever read. If this is the truth then it’s about time I find out why.

Dropping the thing down at my desk, I flip to the first page where Mateo’s name is printed in messy handwriting. It’s a history textbook about our province, detailing settlements that would become cities and towns, and their archaic folklore. I’ve seen similar books at school, but none this weathered. Maybe Mateo kept it after graduation last year, I can vaguely recall him asking Dad for cash to replace the thing. 

My index traces the table of contents until reaching the page marked Matlock Beach, which only makes a few short pages. Under the folklore section, a pink sticky note hides its contents. 

Lifting the note it reads, “It is believed an entity hides among the trees of this town. With glowing eyes reaching high into the sky. This is attributed to intermittent tragedy in the peaceful town. Most likely, these tales are generated by the trauma brought by these events, the stars through trees could be easily mistaken as-”

BANG BANG BANG. “HELP ME!” 

The exploding sound has my pulse skyrocketing with unexpected adrenaline. The following knocks pound as though trying to break through the wood. Stopping at the door, hand grazing the knob I call, “Dad?” No answer. Peering through the side window I find nothing but darkness. Another three bangs. I open the window only a crack and call his name again.

“Help me… please.”  A man's voice croaks back. 

“What��s going on?” I ask through the crack.

“Please…” The voice pleads with gargling voice as though drowning. But even now I don’t have it in me to open the door, to witness more death. 

“I-I’m calling for help!” I say.

“No! Don’t!” The voice shrieks. “Look at me! There’s no time.” Covering the corners of my vision by my arms, I peer through but only see the condensation from my breath against the window. Then, a silhouette comes into view, bending down to fit under the porch.

The phrase repeats itself in my head, the one they used originally. The way it slurs, the way it rumbles from their throat. Through an adrenaline high it becomes familiar as their glowing white eyes open and shine on me.

With a gasp I turn to run, but it’s already pried the window open the rest of the way and latched onto my face. Burning-cold hands wrap around my nose and mouth, silencing my screams and preventing oxygen from reaching my body. The skin is impossibly cold, so cold it burns my mouth like a stovetop, frostbite already starting to buckle the fingers prying them off. It’s long, slender fingers can almost wrap around my entire head, making freedom all but impossible. Within seconds I’ve been dragged out the window and onto the grass, where it leaves my head to knock into rocks with its impossibly long arm.

“Back to the cave,” it whispers in my ear, voice deep and rough. A short and phlegmy cackle bites at my ears

“Hours,” it says.

I wonder if it will drown me down with him.

“To hours.”

Or will it give me the decency of asphyxiation?

“To Hours.”

Why didn’t Mateo receive that luxury?

“To hours.”

Past the treeline, the monster lifts me by my head, allowing just enough oxygen to gasp through my final breaths. It raises another arm sharpened to a point, aimed at my chest.

“To-”

“I need him, stop,” a new voice commands. My head suddenly drops from it’s arms and collides against a rock. 

Otto bends over my body, standing upright wearing nothing but a black tank top despite the freezing cold.

Head spinning, nausea threatening to empty my stomach I say, “Otto? What are you doing here? Where did the-” Looking around I find no pinpricks of light but the twinkling stars.

“You were unconscious. Are you alright?”

“Someone attacked me, I-I thought I was going to die. What are you doing here?”

“You were laying unconscious in your back yard, you may have hit your head.”

Everything started and ended so fast, why did it just drop me? “You said you need me. What did you mean by that?”

“I was walking by and I saw you trip and hit your head. But I said nothing until you woke.”

But that was his voice, it had to be. “I’m not just imagining things, Otto. Something was outside my window and it tried to kill me!”

“Hey, hey,” Otto’s tone assuring and calm. “I understand this is very difficult for you. I’m sure everything feels life and death when you’ve been through loss.”

“I don’t know,” I reply, turning on my side and pushing my body up, panting like a dog. “I need to get back to my room.”

“Would you like to go for a ride?”

Not wanting to be alone, I nod my head and follow him up front. The window it pulled me through is tightly shut, but the door slightly ajar.

Otto’s car drives slowly down the gravel road away from town, the open windows almost ease my racing heart. Still, I feel so sick, and the emerging bump on my head hurts so bad. It doesn’t hold a candle to the rush I feel for being alive in the first place.

“So, what’s going on?” Otto asks.

What’s going on is that something just tried to kill me, I saw my dead brother the other day and you still don’t believe me! “I don’t know… might have had a night terror, I used to have them all the time as a kid.” A lie hidden in truth. It’s the best I can manage.

“Hm, then you wandered outside and hit your head?”

“I guess.”

“So you dreamt about… something that wanted to hurt you, yes?”

“Yeah, until you told it to stop.” Very convenient that i’d dream about him when he appears just like that.

Otto’s arms lay loosely against the steering wheel, he taps his watch with his index finger. “Oh? Very interesting. I assume this was the monster who hurt your brother?”

“I wish you wouldn’t word it that way, but yeah.”

“Apologies.”

Now that he says it out loud, maybe it really is crazy. I guess it could have been a vivid night terror. Usually children are the ones dreaming of monsters, but normally my terrors only involved the dangerous world outside my room.

“I’ve just been really on edge since-” Well that’s just it, I’m not sure I’ve ever been off that edge. My life sometimes seems like a cycle of fear. Fear of getting hurt, fear of those I love getting hurt, fear of outside. Let them go, let it pass through, I remind myself. 

“I understand. I’m used to being afraid as well.”

“Afraid of dying?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Fearing the ones we love getting hurt, especially the ones who can’t stop getting themselves into trouble.”

“Do you mean Annie?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

I nod in answer.

“I’ve loved Annie since the moment I laid eyes on her.” 

I try not to raise an eyebrow. I thought everyone knew that.

“I see why,” I say, leaning my aching head against the window. “If you want what’s best for her you need to find the source of these problems. People don’t get themselves into trouble for no reason. She and Joel live scary lives, and I want to help them. Maybe we both can.” Though I’m probably not one to talk, I did stand idly by as Otto’s brother was tied and beaten, and almost died robbing a restaurant. I won’t act like Joel’s crimes don’t make me anxious, but one issue at a time.

Here I am thinking about him when I almost died five minutes ago. 

“Maybe we should,” Otto eventually replies, staring stone-faced into the black forest. He pulls over then parks the car. “You’ve been getting into a bit of trouble as well. Maybe we haven’t been friends long, but that doesn’t seem like you.”

“It’ll take a lot to learn why I am the way I am. But I’m focused on helping my friends first.”

“That’s very noble of you Miles.” He places a firm hand on my shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Annie and Joel are lucky to have you. Just don’t let their bad habits rub off on you.”

“You didn’t tell me what you were doing out here,” I prod. Otto lightly shakes his head, and taps his finger the watch once more.

“We should head back now.”

“Right, thanks for the ride.”

He smiles, “You’re welcome. Stay safe Miles.”

***

When Otto drops me off at my house, I make sure he leaves me as close to the door as possible. He waves me goodbye in soft monotone and drives off. What a weird guy, but he might have saved my life tonight. Then I run inside, close the window with it’s latch, lock each door, and check every nook and cranny of the house. Every closet, under every bed, every ceiling and crevice. But the anxiety persists.

Goose stares at me after I’m done, like even she thinks I’m going insane. “You aren’t the only one,” I say. I enter my room again, eager to finally find what was under that sticky note. Only there’s no note, or book, or sketchbook. Every piece I had left of him is gone.

I have to be losing my mind now.

Popping a few benzos, I head to the bathroom to ready myself for bed. But when I glance myself in the mirror I stop and stare at the greyish-blue frostbite crossing my face.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Joel.

Ruby turns off our home street and asks me what’s up. She knows it has to be something new, because even when Toby died I would have said something in the morning. Bitching about her sleeping in, or begging for coffee, anything. “Miles found his brother last night. He’s dead.”

“Good god,” Ruby gasps. “How?”

“He called me in a panic last night, said he saw him dead in the water. Whatever that means. Now Annie isn’t answering my messages, and Otto is tellin’ me Miles was hallucinating.”

“What if he was?”

“Miles is grieving but he ain’t stupid.”

Ruby pulls into the school parking lot and we step outside. Wispy smoke trails through the humid morning air. When the smokers spot me they twiddle their cigarettes and vapes in their fingers, some staring with a smirk. Then when I look around, Nick and Lucy actually stop their vomit-inducing makeout session to stare too. 

That’s strange when you’re so used to being ignored. Even when Aaron uploaded that hilarious clip to the internet I got a laugh or two, a few short stares. These eyes stare with disgust, with judgment. Looks I know all too well.

I continue inside the school, where almost everyone shares a glance my way, some chuckling under their breaths, some twitching their lips in revulsion. I raise an eyebrow back, but no one steps forward.

Ruby seems to note the odd looks but remains quiet. “Tell Miles I hope he’s doin’ okay. See ya.” The warning bell sounds. 

“Yeah, later,” I trail off. 

As per tradition, I haven’t handed in a single assignment all semester. Which means it’s the time of year when teachers throw me a bone for extra credit. Is it pity, or do they dread the thought of seeing my face another semester? Regardless, it’s time to crunch months of assignments to meet the bare minimum. While I was away last night though, something about the way Mrs. Thiessen explained the process actually clicked, one more paper and I can finally call it quits. I can finally get out of this damn place for good.

It’s always these moments where one thing goes my way that the universe thinks it most comical to burn everything to the ground, and it has quite the track record. I have a nice night with Miles, my car gets keyed, my friends and I spent a day at the beach, my dog turns up dead the next morning, my mother smiles at me, and my grandfather dies that night. These are among hundreds of examples throughout my life, and my parents lives, and the lives of my extended family. My mom told me once that she thought our family was cursed, but I always thought it was silly. Though to give credit where its due, Hawkins family members are usually rejected from the earth like an infection.

All I know is that the universe gets a kick out of dangling happiness in front of my face like a cat toy, ripping it away just as I try to catch it. So what is it this time? I’m finally about to graduate. So why the hell is everyone staring at me?

I’m a little slower than Ruby to the doors, trying to catch what other students say about me. When I pass through the cloud of raspberry flavoured clouds, conversations stop until I leave. Did my secret arch nemesis spread some rumour about me? Everyone already knows I’m a loser, I can take a few more days of it. 

The front doors are like an oncoming storm, but not the kind that I’d like to find myself in. Maybe if I can just get to class first I’ll miss the worst of it, then when exam week comes I’ll slip in and out and never see these fuckers again. Big deal.

Aaron leans against the wall outside the door, scratches scattering his face. “I know I joked about some gay shit in the cafe,” he sneers. “But it’s true huh?” My heart sinks deep into my stomach. He’s just being his prick self, that’s all. I move to shove the door open before Aaron forces a hand across my chest. Taking a long look at my reddening face, he squints. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on, it’s all over your fucking face. I can’t believe you’re actually ga-” I smack his arm away and shove him against the wall.

“I dunno what you heard but it ain’t true,” I bellow.

Aaron rolls his eyes, lip tugged into a smirk. “Ooh, little queer’s gonna hurt me? I’m so scared I might piss myself.”

There’s no point in hiding it anymore, I’ve already given myself away. “Who the fuck told you?”

”Alex told me five minutes ago, and he heard it from Amy, and I think Amy heard it from Lua but she’s a fuckin’ pathological liar. Figured it was a lie 'til you spazzed out about it.”

This can’t be happening. The anger begins to build in my stomach, it’s as though the feeling belongs to someone else. Eyes unfocused, hands shaking, one moment I feel nothing at all and the next I send a fist across Aaron’s jaw. He only laughs.

Legs manage to carry me inside despite the desperate urge to run away. Class hasn’t started yet, so I make way for the learning commons, all but praying that Miles is in there. Instead I find Lua, speaking to a group of her friends. When they all look up with their judgmental snickers, I know Aaron was telling the truth. Their grins fade as I approach, every one of them tries to act natural.

“Can I ask what the fuck your problem is?” I demand.

Lua shrugs, “Dunno what you mean, I didn’t do anything.”

“I already know from your pal Aaron that you started this shit. So tell me who told you that bullshit.”

Lua mulls it over for a moment. “It’s nothing personal, so I’ll tell you. But only if you let me know how the drama plays out.” I nod, biting my lip until tasting blood.

Lua holds out a folded sheet of paper between her fingers. “Got this weird note in my locker. Looks like a serial killer made it, but sounded like a fun way to end the year.”

I snatch the note, written just at neatly as the one we took from Aaron. “Thanks, and go fuck yourself.” It still doesn’t make any sense. How could they possibly know? Annie is the only person I’ve told, and the only person who was ever supposed to know.

Anxiously filtering fingers through my hair, I scan the room for a friendly face. This seriously can’t be happening.

The bell rings as soon as my eyes lock onto Annie’s from across the hallway. Pushing my way through the crowd, someone mumbles a slur and knocks me off my feet, others laugh and kick at my body while walking by.

When I make it to my feet I grab Annie tightly by the arm and lead her outside. She shoves my arm away, and we quickly pace out into the grassy courtyard, just out of earshot.

“Who the fuck did you tell?” I demand.

“Joel-”

“No one else knows Annie, it had to be you. Spill it!”

“I didn’t tell anyone!” Annie pauses to wipe her welling eyes. “Jesus, don’t you trust me?”

“Trust went away when someone started fuckin’ with my life. Someone who knew about the laptop who wasn’t Wendy or Aaron, and someone who knew I’m-” I run my fingers through my hair and wind up pacing back and forth. “This can’t happen. This can’t happen! If fucking Lua knows then the whole town is gonna know. Everyone!”

No, this has to be a nightmare. I’d tell Annie that my religious-fanatic parents and sister are going to find out about me, but she already knows. She’s heard me rave about my fears, about what will happen when my parents find out. The idea is so sickening and all-encompassing I didn’t even notice I’m hyperventilating. I quit pacing and instead continue in one direction away from school. Before I make it far Annie grabs my arm. “I know how this looks but you have to believe it wasn’t me. We have each others backs, remember? I would never do that to you.”

“Don’t follow me,” I turn to leave, but Annie holds tighter.

“I can’t let you go off alone.” She glances my wrist with softened eyes, speaking gently.

“I won’t off myself, I just need to think.”

Annie’s hand loosens, still clinging but allowing me to walk away.

I continue past the courtyard of the school and through the downtown’s back alleys, then towards Miles’s street. The trek through town alone is around forty minutes, all while the sun scorches my body. I pass by the train tracks and eventually Miles’s house. 

At the base of the lake I fall to my knees and seat myself on the rocks. Now that the heat is less of an issue I’m only left wondering what to do. You’d think after our little interaction with the school security guard I’d quit carrying drugs in my bag, but this is exactly why. In my life I need to prepare for everything to turn to shit in a split second. Half of my first joint brings some small elation, but I keep smoking and smoking. At some point it only increases my anxiety, fuels my racing brain jumping from one bad scenario to another, until settling upon one simple thought.

What chance I had at life is now over. 

Without much wind or Miles’s company it's too quiet in this place, but I hesitate to use my phone for music. I’ll turn it on and find texts telling me not to come home tonight. Cautiously, I open it anyway and swipe away the few texts on the screen before I can read them.

The sad songs don’t exactly help, but it’s nice to have sounds that reflect how my thoughts feel. These songs let me float away into dissociation, they have me wishing I could float through life without having to feel it. I don’t exactly want to die, but maybe if I could disappear without a trace. I wish there was a way to stop existing without having to die. Or to continue existing without all these feeling I can’t control.

Once I’ve cooled off enough I decide to go sit near the river where Miles and I sat the other day. The grass reminds me of the fields Toby and I would play in all the time, when he would lick my face and jump all over me, but whoever is doing this took that away too. Now they’re going to take my sister and the roof over my head. What’s next? Will they find a way to take my friends too? 

I clench my jittering teeth together and ball my hands into fists. What will I do if I lose everything? Where will I go now that my parents have a good excuse to get rid of me?

Twenty minutes pass of the same song on repeat, when crunching sticks sound from the path. I won’t give a glance, because if this devil Miles encountered is coming to end me, so be it. 

Instead a warm voice asks, “Okay if I sit here?”

“Would you leave if I said no?”

“Maybe, if I’m convinced you’re safe.”

“I’m… not. What’s it matter?”

Miles steps closer. “Because you’re important to me.”

Reluctantly I wave him over, he sits close legs tucked into his chest. For a minute we sit in silence, just watching the gentle flow of water. Miles glances a few times at the ruins to our backside. I’d hoped he wouldn't come anywhere near this place following recent events. But he did anyway, for me. 

“Why’d you come here?” He asks.

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Lucky guess, I checked your house first.”

The mere mention returns the trembling jaw. “Can’t go home now, you know how it is.” My words remain quiet and choke out of my mouth. Miles found his brother dead, now takes the burden of my problems? “I’m so sorry you had to see your brother like that. I can’t imagine what you’re going through already. You don’t need to stay here, you got enough on your plate.”

“Yeah, I’ve lost a lot,” he sighs. “The last thing I want to lose now is you. You can talk to me, or not talk to me. But I’m here and I won’t leave unless you seriously want me to.”

“I don’t. Please stay.” It’s hard not to let it pour out now. “I dunno what I’m gonna do man. My parents won’t look at me ever again. I'll get dirty looks just tryin’ to live my damn life. What if… what if Ruby doesn’t even talk to me anymore?”

“Joel-”

“‘Cause no matter how well you think you know someone, you never really know.” 

Miles takes my hand in his, momentary relief. “Joel, I know what you're feeling is hell right now. “He looks from our touching hands back to my eyes. “I know this feels like the end of the world, but I promise that the ones you lose weren’t people you deserve in the first place. You will always have a place to sleep even if I have to fight my dad to the death. We’re going to get through this, both of us. Because I think we understand each other on a level no one else really does.” I let out a long jagged breath and lean into his chest. 

“This won't make you feel better, ‘cause the pain of losing people doesn’t just go away. But it does get better. I promise it gets better.”

Without really meaning to, my fingers grip his shirt while rage and sadness and fear overwhelm me. Miles wraps and arm around me and holds tight. 

“I wish I believed you. Wish I had the hope you had. But I could never shake this feeling that I just don’t belong in this town. Or that I don’t belong anywhere and never will. I know it’s supposed to be okay these days but I could never stop resenting myself for these feelings. How ridiculous is it to hate myself so much over that?”

“It’s not stupid.”

Opening my mouth to argue, instead I toss a rock into the water as hard as I can. “I’m just scared. I’m so scared.”

“I don’t know if this is what you want to hear right now. But can I tell you something that’s always helped me?”

Nod in response.

“I try and see these distressing emotions, like fear, as a ghost passing through your body. It comes in unannounced, making you shiver and hurt. It feels like it’ll be there forever, but our job is to make sure it only passes through. It’s easy to lock it inside, to hold onto these emotions and let them eat us from the inside out. But if we stop and guide it along, we can allow it to come and then go. Feel it, then when the time is right, let go.”

For a long time we sit in silence, just feeling the comfort of him next to me. I’m sure it’s good advice and all, but that ghost has made a home in me.

“Are you going to stay here for a while?” Miles asks.

“Forever, if I can.”

Miles stands and stretches. “Okay, I’m going to grab something and come back soon. Are you safe if I leave for a little bit?”

“Go on, I could use some time to think anyway.”

Miles disappears into the bush, followed by the caw of birds.

***

What is waiting for me at home? Staring into the blue sky, that question bothers me the most. Will I be kicked out immediately? I'm sure my mother will have a lot to say about grandchildren, about my sins. Dad will let her do the talking, he'll stand and nod with his arms crossed. The aftermath of these arguments is usually the same. A slam of the door, whispering disgust, then silence. Excruciating silence.

It would continue for days, weeks. Silently my mother would usher me into the car for church, but that never really hurt. It’s easy to ignore what some priest says on a stage, easy to thump my foot with boredom until I could leave. No, it was the sunday dinners after that solidified my self-hatred. Sixteen years listening to the vile things my aunts and uncles talked about. Even before I realised what I was, I knew something about them was wrong. How they’d spit words like unnatural, and sinners in my face without even knowing. While I had to sit politely, smile and nod, endure it all. 

Then again, maybe they did know on some level. Maybe that’s why they let me stay home when I turned sixteen, maybe they didn’t care to try anymore. Miles makes his way through the narrow pathway accompanied by a second, then third set of footsteps. I still don’t look. 

“Can we um, have just a second?” Annie sits next to me, Miles and Otto wander back down the path.

“I’ll be fine,” I lie.

“I-I know how this seems, but I would never, ever do this to you.” Annie’s voice quivers. “But when someone is out there trying to hurt you, you need people to fall back on. I’m supposed to have your back, you have mine. That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

“I know, I know I know… I dunno how they found out. It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s all over Annie.”

She holds my head in her arms and whispers into my ear. “But you’ve got me, and Miles, and even Otto.” Then shouts, ”Alright, get your asses back here.”

Miles sits back down next to me, “I went home to grab some stuff, but Annie wouldn’t stop calling so I had to say something.”

Otto wanders closer and sits close to Annie. “We’re worried about you.”

“You skipped class just to come here?” I wipe my puffy eyes.

Annie lays back on the grass, subtly shifting away from Otto. “Hey Miles, what stuff was so important anyway?”

“Oh! That’s right.” He unzips his backpack and pulls out a bag of pretzels, water bottles and juice boxes. “If you’re going to stay here forever, you’re still gonna need to eat.”

Annie whispers to Otto and he smiles, then they both stand. Annie searches for the largest stones along the lakebed while Otto collects dry sticks from the treeline. Before I know it my friends have laid out a small ring of rocks, fire burning high.

Miles tosses some logs onto the fire and I twiddle my thumbs. It’s a good sign that Otto didn’t say anything, I think. He begins flipping through an old textbook as soon as we’re settled. An oddly comforting thing, to see him acting same as ever. Annie unzips her bag and grabs a beer, surely not her first this morning. An hour passes, Annie fills in Miles on some of our adventures over the year. At some point I manage to get out a word here and there, even a small smile. Somewhere in the day, despite my still clenching stomach, I’m able to laugh. “Hey Anne, remember tenth grade, halloween night?” I ask.

Annie turns to Miles, “Both of us wasted, we dressed up as ghosts to egg Jackson’s house.” She cracks another drink. “He chased us down street screaming his head off.” But Annie can’t finish the story because she’s giggling too much.

“...'til he turned the corner, where we had more eggs ready,” I finish.

Through hollering laughter she adds, “Motherfucker didn’t know what hit him.”

The four of us share many more laughs over the course of day. In no time at all night falls and Annie’s bag has emptied of booze. Regardless, the stories we share and the fire between us makes everything a little better, if only for a day. I couldn’t hope to ignore the looming threat still upsetting my stomach. Once the sun has set and the only source of light is our fire and the moon, Annie recalls her halloween party coming up tomorrow.

“A halloween party in June? Am I missing something?” Miles asks.

“The first year Joel and I met we decided to have an insane halloween party, but the next year some shithead tattled in advance and ruined it. We’ve had to shake up the schedule so we can have a little fun before the cops show up. What do you say Miles?”

Miles glances at me, “I dunno, never been to a party before.”

“Well, if you need a distraction or booze, you’re more than welcome to drop by. Whatabout you Joel?”

“Right now I’d probably be on the receiving end of a hate crime.” Barely catching Miles’s disappointed glance I add, “But I’ll just throw on zombie makeup ‘till I’m unrecognizable. Otto? You coming?”

“I need to study, and help my brother study so he can pass his classes for once.”

“Right, not the party guy. That’s cool,” I reply.

“Speaking of, I’m going to get back home for some rest. It was nice doing this with you all tonight. Annie… would you like to join me? We could study at my place.”

“Thanks but nah, not gonna study drunk. But I’m about to piss out too.”

Miles side eyes me, and I know he’s ready to leave too. So he douses the fire, picks up Annie’s cigarette butts and heads down the path after her.

Otto turns to me once the other two are gone, says, “Just so you know, you could have always told me.”

“Right, yeah, I know. I didn’t really think you’d be a dick about it or anything. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Annie knew.”

“Annie was a fluke, there’s a reason I don’t drink anymore,” I chuckle. “Thanks for skipping class for me, by the way. I know that couldn’t’ve been easy.”

Otto flashes me a small but comforting smile. I’m sure when I try to go home this feeling will turn to dust immediately, but for one fleeting day, I just feel lucky to have the friends I have.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Matlock Devil stalked the one who freed it, yet could not escape detection. Loose ends simply couldn’t go untied, but it was as if this one could sense its presence. When it followed in the trees the human could see, hear it, it only fueled its rage. This was a particularly observant one.

It wove its way through the swaying trees and strange lights it did not understand. With eyes like a hawk, it watched the boy’s every movement, everything he wrote and drew with unparalleled detail. Every book he opened, every step he made documented in a mind that couldn’t forget.

Still, the creature couldn’t be certain this human knew exactly what it was, or how to stop it. Until the boy drew it in that book of his, wrote about it in extreme detail. It knew this would be an issue, and decided to tie up this end permanently.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The midafternoon sun shifts over our heads by the time we reach the clearing. Otto ducks underneath the pathfinding tree and eyes it curiously, while Annie follows me through the narrow path asking about where we’re going. I explain how Mateo and I found it until we arrive, making a beeline for the hidden ruins. “We’d been here many times,” I continue. “But never down there. He must have been exploring it in secret. Told me it was nothing but a shallow hole full of bugs.”

Down the ladder and across the basement, I peer through the crawlspace and shine my flashlight through. Long and black as night, but no eyes this time.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and crawl through on my hands and knees, Otto following Annie closely. The pathway subtly declines until we have room to stand, we arrive at a rickety wooden ladder descending deep into the earth. Annie peers down with a queasy look, while Otto’s nose is still buried in that book. “You find out anything useful?” I ask.

After a long pause he answers, “No.”

“Ready?” Annie asks on the brink of the darkness.

I don’t answer her and instead step past and down the ladder.

The sharp rocks poke me from every angle, as echoing drops of water fill my senses. The eerie moaning is difficult to ignore, it’s too human for cave ambience, but it’s easy to let an active imagination overcome rationality. As I descend the seemingly endless rungs it seems more and more like a tomb, and even though nothing could make me turn back my instincts still scream at me to get out and go home.

Finally my feet contact solid but slippery rock, where another tunnel branches into a few separate paths. Otto points the way, I shine my light down the hall and start, but quickly freeze when the rock shifts under me. This seems to put all of us on edge, even Otto. He tucks the book under his arm and continues, each step more rigid than the last.

“Joel is gonna be pissed when he finds out we came here without him,” Annie says, trying to sound calm with a quivering voice. “Maybe I’ll come back here with him.” 

“I wish he was here too,” I reply. Joel would know exactly what to say to make me feel better, he’s weirdly optimistic for someone so unhappy.

A fork in the path brings Annie and I to a halt, Otto bumping into her shortly after. “Which way Otto?” I ask.

“Oh,” He flips the page back to the map, Annie and I each lean in to get a look. “Go right.”

The farther we descend, the more tunnels appear. Otto guides us through several twists and turns where evidence of Mateo’s trek show: paths marked with Xs in white chalk, footprints leading in and out of dead ends. 

Annie crosses her arms over her chest when I notice the way she shivers. Preoccupied with anxiety, I hadn’t noticed how cold the tunnels have become. “So what about this?” Annie exhales white vapor. “I dunno why your brother came down here, but maybe he went out exploring, came across an angry cave-squatter.” 

Teeth chattering I answer, “That’s possible... but what are we gonna do if someone is really down here?”

“I’m gonna clock ‘em, obviously.”

Otto looks up from the book, “You don’t need to get in fights everywhere you go.”

“The fights just happen to me man, I dunno what to tell you.” 

Clunk… clunk… clunk. A hollow sound echoes through the tunnel, Annie freezes instantly. Otto is about to argue back, but stops, stares ahead instead of down. When my eyes meet the glow, the surrounding details blur, I’m unable to look away from the source of my fear.

But when Annie finally illuminates the path, it was only a reflection in the eyes. A deer staring into us with disgust, like we’ve come into it’s home uninvited.

“What is… how…?” Annie starts.

Relief floods me, I approach the deer slowly. “How’d you get lost all the way down here little guy?”

Annie tugs at my shirt, “Is this a good idea?”

“It’s just lost, I’m sure it doesn’t want to hurt us-” I’m cut off by another CLUNK. The deer slams its antlers into the cave wall, over and over, harder and harder. Once its antlers split from its skull it continues until blood leaks from it’s skull. When it collapses we all stand in stunned silence. 

Memories flash through my head, an innocent bird dying at the hands of a cruel world. No one understood how it felt to watch it happen, no one cared. So as badly as tears want to come they don’t. “Let’s keep going,” Otto states, ushering Annie and I along from our frozen stance. When the stench of the deer hits my nose I have to sidle past its corpse. Even in partial darkness the animal’s deformed figure is clear. Thick dark blood drips slowly from its head, pieces of it have miraculously decomposed moments after death. Or did it somehow look like this beforehand? Rotting flesh reveals rib bones and muscle, before I can see anything else I continue forward. Best not to think too much about it.

“Maybe coming here was a bad idea,” Annie says.

“Then go,” I respond, tone flat and tired.

“We didn’t come all this way just to leave,” Otto adds.

Annie grumbles, “Yeah, fuck me I guess.” But remains close behind. I blow a mental sigh of relief, because continuing alone is next to drowning and live burial as the scariest thing I could imagine. 

Annie stops talking for a while after the interaction, lagging farther behind. I don’t know whether it’s the impossible deer in our path or the hallways shrinking closer to our shoulders. 

“Hey,” I tap Otto on the shoulder when he doesn’t hear me. “Thanks for coming. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to do this on my own.”

“I’d like to find your brother and ask him about this book. I find it very interesting.”

“Really? I didn’t think you cared about art and stories.”

“Normally I wouldn’t, but the level of detail in these descriptions is astounding.”

“You can make out his handwriting?” 

“No, but with context clues I’m piecing things together. Here it says that this creature could disappear at will, that its very presence could alter the world around it in twisted ways.” 

“Maybe you and Mateo would get along.” Maybe he needed someone like Otto, someone quiet and collected.

“I would love to find out,” he replies. 

It’s kind of comforting to see Otto care. Maybe he’s more of a friend than I thought, just a quiet one.

We continue down the endless hallway for another hour of path after path. Otto instructs us to turn left and a few rights, but as the hallways grow colder our end goal feels further and further away, until Otto stops in place. “This is it.” At first it seems like any other part of the cave, until he steps forward and shines downward. Another tunnel with no end, barely wide enough to fit through.

Otto tests the first rung before continuing downward. Annie looks me in the eye, “I know you need your answers Miles, but this is kind of insane. Maybe we should… get someone else to do this.”

“You’re the one telling me this is insane? I know! I’m going anyway.”

“I’m getting a really bad feeling about this place. What if we find whatever took him?”

“Since when did it become a ‘what’?”

Annie’s shoulders drop to her sides. “That deer freaked me out is all. It… it felt like it was looking at me. I know its insane.” She fakes a smile, “I’m coming.”

“Insane doesn’t begin to describe the last few days. It’s alright.”

The ladder takes several minutes to climb down, each creak and falling stone pounding at my heart.

Just intrusive thoughts, I remind myself, taking three deep breaths.

Otto arrives at the bottom with a splash, followed by Annie cursing. “It’s flooded down here,” Otto says. “Only waist deep.”

“G-goddamnit,” Annie shivers. We find ourselves in another hallway, similar in size to the one above but half-flooded. There’s only about a foot of space between the roof and the water. I almost decide to call attention to the tides behind me, the way the water moves unnaturally in places I’ve long passed, but I don’t. More intrusive thoughts. The sounds don’t stop though, so I turn my light around me as fast as I can and wait. 

“Hurry up man,” Annie calls from ahead, but I keep staring, waiting for someone to pop out and attack. If it’s possible for a nineteen-year-old to have a heart attack, I can’t imagine a better time. 

At the end of the hallway is a platform of rock opens up to a wide open room. Otto climbs the platform before grabbing Annie’s wrist to pull her up. Otto walks in first, so focused on the wide expanse of the room that he doesn’t even see the drop-off. Annie grabs his hand at the last second, stopping a great fall to his untimely death. Shining my light along the far walls, it appears something is etched into the rock, and the more I look the more I find. HOURSTOHOURS. The same words used to mark Aaron’s money. Then I look around more, when I realise these words are scratched into every square inch of the floors and walls, thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of times.

Annie finishes my thought for me. “Matlock Beach only has one killer. A fucking serial killer by the looks of it.”

Then we approach the hole in the floor, filled with dark water far below. Head spinning from the height, I stagger backwards when my shoes meet a patch of brown rock. I reach down and slide a wet finger across, coming back red.

Blood, dried blood.

“What's this?” Annie asks, brushing off a wide book. She hands it to me, a school textbook from Matlock Collegiate.

No.

I flip open the front cover.

No no no.

In the first page of the book is a long list of names among doodles and dates, going as far back as 1919 but ending with the name Mateo Ramos.

“Mateo!” I yell. He isn’t down here, but he was, and he bled, the how and why don’t matter to me now. I just want my brother back.

My shaking legs collapse under my weight and my stomach turns, sick with grief. But could he have died here? There’s so much blood, no way someone would kill him down here then bury his body on the surface. Not only is that a waste of effort, but we would have seen more blood on the way, not to mention the problem of the ladder.

I stare back down into the water, where my eyes fixate on an object bobbing along it's surface. Otto shines his flashlight, asks, “Do you see something?”

The light barely reaches the surface, my eyes adjust slowly, but at a point there’s no mistaking it. A head, shoulders, back, floating face down in the water.

“Miles, Otto, come on! We’re getting the fuck out of here,” Annie says. But my eyes remain transfixed on the water. 

“M… M…” I stammer. It was an inevitability at this point, finding him like this. When I think of the lowest moments of my life I remember all the death, all the sorrow. Our mother's death was shocking, it happened and then it was over. But this pain is long, torturous. All the anticipation and fear leading me here couldn't possibly prepare me for this sight.

Annie takes my arm, guides me to the rooms’s entrance. 

“I can't go,” I sob.

“Someone is going to come get him after. As your friend I'm telling you we need to leave right now.” And with that control is taken away. I can’t stop her from dragging me out of the room, away from the glowing eyes keeping watch over its kill.

***

It was past midnight when we reached the cave’s entrance. At some point in our groggy ascent I mentioned calling the cops, but Otto only shot me a confused look. “What do we have to call the cops for?”

“What are you talking about?” I sob. “So they can get my brother’s body out of the water.”

“There was no body down there.”

I pause, recollecting every detail. His waterlogged flesh, his long brown hair floating in all directions. “You’re wrong, you just didn’t see it.”

“I understand you’re upset, sometimes we see what we want to see.”

“You're wrong!” I shout. Annie shoots Otto a questioning look but stays quiet. So we trudged back through the woods silently, limp from exhaustion. When we finally received cell reception my nearly dead phone began beeping continually with messages. Great, now I can get screamed at before locking myself in my room again.

Once we reach the town limits I turn towards my house. “Bye you guys.”

“Take it easy. We’ll figure this out, I promise you.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

Otto waves me off then slowly moves his hand close to Annie’s until they touch, but she pulls away. 

The house appears taller than it has before. A looming threat instead of a home. To be honest, despite living here for a while it still doesn’t really feel like a home. I’m not sure it’ll ever feel like home again without my family. So instead of going in I slip into the back yard and dial a number on my phone. Joel’s voice is a sweet relief after today. “Hey Miles, what’s up? Annie hasn’t answered my texts, so it must be a fun night.”

“How was school?” I ask, not hiding the cracks in my voice.

“It was fine, it was school. Just scribbled around the whole time like usual.”

Phone shaking in my hands, I try to speak without every word falling apart. 

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Joel asks.

“No,” I whimper, face scrunched and lip quivering. It all bursts out at once into the receiver.  “I’’ll be there in five, hang tight.”

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Houses in Matlock Beach are oddly scattered from above. It spreads out a few square kilometers, but the space is mostly trees. It’s pretty to look at without a doubt, but something about its disarray always bothered Mateo and I. When the bank accounts ran dry, we pleaded with dad to find somewhere in the city to live. He’d say we couldn’t afford it, but we knew it was a lie. He’d say something about a new beginning, but I always knew he’d cling to the familiar. Maybe he thinks mom’s hometown will help learn something about her, maybe he wants to remember falling in love here. But this place took my brother, dad took away the life I’d finally accepted and placed me in a cage.  

Though, I did meet these weirdos, so all isn’t lost. 

“Is Joel still showing up?” I ask.

Annie clicks away at her phone, glances up. “Hmm, nope. Mum and dad Hawkins said he could come home if he stayed after school ‘till he caught up.”

“At least he might pass,” I mumble.

Annie shrugs, “I’m sure you can handle some time away from him… right?”

I’m not sure what Annie is suggesting exactly, I push the thoughts from my mind. Otto taps a finger against his watch, not looking away from his calculus notes. “...and if Annie would like to pass with him, I’d suggest we get back to it.”

School is probably the last thing on my mind, but I figured I could still hang out with Annie and Otto rather than brood alone. Maybe my classes will give me an extension under the circumstances, but my averages are high enough that if I miss exams entirely, I’ll still pass just fine.

Mateo was going into art school, but he was waiting another year because we were going to go together. He loved helping me with assignments just for fun, and it was the last thing we ever did together.

Annie doesn’t seem too focused on studying either, her eyes slowly shift from the horizon to me. “Maybe some school will take your mind off things?” She suggests.

“It won’t…” I trail off. “All I can think about is this video I saw, Joel and I-”

“Yeah he showed me,” Annie interrupts. “It was pretty scary.”

“Now whenever I look at the paper I just hear that mumbling, the last possible clue I have. And I still can’t figure out what he’s saying.” Mumblings and ticking clocks, I wonder if they’ll still be with me in my asylum cell. 

Annie hops into an upright sitting position. “Couldn’t make it out better than you two, or anyone else. But I’ll keep trying man.”

“Thanks Annie, I dunno what I’d do without you guys.”

“Out here we watch each others backs ‘cause no one else will, and we will figure it out.”

“You won’t explain it without context,” Otto interjects. “If you know nothing about the inflection of the one speaking then you’ll never figure it out. You need opinions from more people.”

“That’s a good point Otto,” I glance backward at him. “You’re smart, wanna give it a listen?”

Otto shrugs, and Annie quickly pulls a chair next to him, tossing a pair of earbuds on the table. He cranks up the volume and bites the inside of his cheek. An eyebrow raises, he rewinds again, again, and again. He mouths something to himself and plays through once more, then stops, face scrunched in deep thought. “Could it have been something about a cave?”

“A cave?” Annie looks at me.

“Let me see that.” 

Mumblings repeat obsessively, the first three words remain gibberish, but cave fits neatly in the fourth. I keep listening, closing my eyes to focus. “... cave … the cave … back to the cave we go.” The sickening voice reveals itself to me. In a sing songy voice it repeats, “Back to the cave we go we go, back to the cave we go!” Interrupted by horse, wet cackling.

“Back to the cave,” I say out loud. Annie snatches the phone from my hands along with the earbuds. She listens, and mouths the words as they go by.

“Back to the cave…” Annie reflects. “Okay, how does that help?” She and Otto look at me as if I should already have the answer.

“How am I supposed to know?!” I exclaim, unable to work this new information through my brain. “Mateo never mentioned a cave, why would they go back to it anyways? Unless…”

Damn you and your mystery Mateo, what could a cave possibly have to do with your attacker? Why did you show up that day covered in grime with the thousand-yard stare? How could you leave for days on end and not tell me anything? We used to share everything, but the person who disappeared didn’t. I don’t know where you were or why you came home bleeding and covered in dirt on that day, or what weird things you were drawing.

The realization is driven though my brain like a bullet, and before I know it I’m snatching my school bag from the ground. 

Annie’s eyes have grown wide in suspense, “Unless what?”

I take the sketchbook in my hands, weighing its hidden pages kept dark out of respect. Taking the book felt wrong, but I thought Mateo would have wanted me to finish what we started. Mateo showed me a lot of the things he worked on, but he also kept a lot hidden. Sometimes the things you draw are things that you need to keep for yourself, you don’t have to share every piece of yourself with the world, or even your family, and that’s okay. I know Mateo didn’t want every part of him exposed, and I wanted to honour that fact after he was gone. 

So I hope he’ll forgive me for this.

I flip to the end of the book full of half finished monster sketches and dark scenery. When I was little those drawings terrified me, I’d even make him sleep in my room I was so scared. My dad always said that monsters aren’t real, but it never made me feel any better. Mateo would tell me that monsters are real, they can be cruel like us, and they could love like us. To him they were like humans who couldn’t help looking the way they did, that monsters who hurt for the sake of evil didn’t exist. A week ago I might agree, but not anymore.

At at the end of all those dark pages is the image I was looking for. That odd place he scribbled the day he came home, a crude drawing of a cave entrance encircled by messy text.

“Miles, what is this?” Otto’s mouth hangs open in awe. My eyes sweep over each paragraph, mostly gibberish sprawled unevenly around the drawing, with few coherent sentences.

I read, “I found it in that book first, folklore of black tendrils reaching into the sky. Lead me down this insane rabbit hole im not sure i could crawl out of if i wanted to.” The rest of the paragraph remains unintelligible. 

Even Annie’s permanently smug face hangs low in dread.

“The first two expeditions lead to nothing but dead ends. After hours on hours of nothing, I left when a rat took a bite out of my ankle. After the third trip I’d cement a path through the maze…” Continuing along the paragraphs, almost nothing else legible. I try to slow down my furious eyes to make it out, but instead throw the book aside in frustration. In the end it was his shitty handwriting that would take answers from me, of all possible things. Mateo’s inexperience with writing shows in the chaos, but hints to more than that, a jitter to the text. What did he see that could shake him this way?

The pages blow in the light breeze, Otto picks up the book. Annie gingerly places a hand on my shoulder. “This sucks Miles, I know. But we have to find something out of this. It’s your brother we’re talking about, so instead let’s think it through.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” I reach to Otto for the book, but he hesitates. He stares into another page for a while, that bewildered look still stuck to his face. ‘Sorry,” he hands it back.

This time I check the neighboring pages. More gibberish, more scribbles, but these scribbles seem odd compared to everything else my brother made. They follow a lightning bolt-shaped path, sometimes branching off into dead ends marked by an X, but all lead to one spot marked with a circle. “A map?” I question.

“So Mateo got too into spelunking,” Annie replies. “Great, we have everything except where it actually is.”

My suspicions are all but confirmed when we come across a printed map of Matlock Beach. Many similar paths lead through woods, but only one spot is circled. It’s exactly what I was afraid of. “I know where it is, and if Otto’s right then he might still be there!”

“Miles?” Otto‘s tone drips with distrust. “What are you not telling us?”

 “Before he disappeared he had been missing for two days, he came home all dirty and banged up- and now this? He found someone in that cave and now- now- they brought him back.”

“Easy,” Otto places a flat hand against my back. “Why don’t you let me have another look at those?” 

I hand it over without much thought, then look to Annie who’s eyes well and drip. “He might be in there Annie, and if there’s even a chance I’m going to look.”

“That’s why I’m coming.” 

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine.”

“Im sure you will. If you have a shot to save your brother then I want to. I’m coming.” Annie starts down the ladder.

We both look to Otto, cross legged staring into the book as if he could fall in. “I’m coming too.”

Annie stops, “Seriously?”

“Mateo could be in danger,” he states robotically. It’s seems out of character from the bookworm, especially with exams so close.

Once Annie and I make way down the stairs, there’s a near-silent tearing of paper from above. At the bottom he hands the book back, I flip through to find the map but meet the very last page by mistake. After a moment of pause, a thought: This could be the last thing Mateo ever wrote, dated the very same day he died.

This time I decide to keep it to myself. It reads, “I found it a few days ago. The rock had eroded, cracked under my weight. When I finally came across it’s casket the floor crumbled, I barely made it out alive. But it’s whispers echoed along the halls muttering the same nonsense over and over. 

I think I let it out.

When I left the cave for the last time and looked backward, I could have sworn I saw it. But then I went home, saw it again, and again. Everywhere I go it’s eyes are watching me. It’s outside my window right now. It thinks its blending in but i can hear it muttering. Hours to hours. 

The Matlock Devil is real, and I don’t know that I can be forgiven for what happens next.”

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Hold on, I’m going to get help.”

My arms hang loosely over the windowsill. A breeze blows through the plants but the sun is so warm the chill isn’t bothersome. No, what bothers me is the voice that comes after that line, the words that Mateo’s killer mumbles over and over. The mystery of it all could drive me mad. Could it be a clue, or just deranged ramblings? When dad showed the police I thought something would come of it. Days have passed since then and nothing. Maybe Annie and Joel are right about the cops out here, maybe they really don’t care.

The only way I could think of another lead is through Mateo himself, and the way he was acting before he disappeared. But recollecting those mundane days now feel like a red-hot stick of iron. Remembering feels like a memorial, like admitting he’s dead and gone forever, but I still have to try.

Mateo was away at a friend’s place for two days straight, but I knew it was a lie. Mateo never had friends in Matlock Beach, and almost as few back home. It wasn’t something I thought about much, just didn’t click with others like with family. He always seemed one step out of reality, took any chance to escape with his drawings and stories. When others went out to party he’d escape to the woods with nothing but his spirituality and a sketchbook. I think it scared a lot of people off, but he never seemed to mind. We had each other. He’d make me come outside and I’d be his connection to others. We were messed up but covered each others weaknesses, we were company and inspiration, brothers. 

The other sign was his state when he finally stumbled home one morning, one week before he disappeared. His hair and face were caked with dirt and grime, cargo pants torn at the knees, shirt ripped from the collar. He sat at the dinner table, I awaited an explanation, but he only stared through the window. I tried to tell him that Dad and I were worried, but he didn’t even seem to hear me. Mateo whipped out his sketchbook and scribbled with black pastels, mumbling some half-hearted excuse and a made up friend’s name. 

I didn’t want to push force an answer, because if something was wrong he would tell me. Mateo told me everything, first kisses, nightmares, dreams, to depressive thoughts he still had.

Or maybe I just needed an excuse not to ask.

“What're you drawing?” I eventually asked. “New cave-dwelling monster?” He stared laser-focused at the page and didn’t answer, not so subtly shifting his arm to block the image. 

As time went on and I assured our father he was alive, Mateo eventually pulled out a pencil and began writing. Sometimes he would scribble little notes or stories when the idea struck. But he just kept going, on and on and on. When I stood to ready myself for school, he’d almost filled the page with writing.

Five quick knocks pop my focus like a bubble. I sigh quietly and wipe my eyes, exiting my room for the first time today.

After carefully fixing my hair, I prepare myself to wave away the missionary or salesperson. Instead, I’m face to face with Joel, who carries a cup of coffee and a forced smile. It’s hard to say if it’s the slight tilt to his right, the fading bruises, or slight redness to the eyes that tips me off. But something’s wrong, something new.

“Brought you a coffee,” he holds out a grey cup from the Cafe, “Double-double right?”

I take the cup and thank him, surprised he remembers how I like it.

“Sorry I didn’t text first just…” He trails off. “Just wanted to see if you felt like hangin’ today.”

“Yeah,” I smile. “That sounds great, you wanna come in?”

“Actually, I was hopin’ to get you out of that room. It’s been a few days.”

A deep sinking feeling fills my stomach, the same one that plagued me back when Mom died. “Old habits are a bitch. Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

After a quick change out of sweatpants and two full minutes managing my mess of hair, I decide the wind will mess it up anyway. I double, then triple check the locks, biding my time before I have to leave to the outside world.

But then I see Joel waiting for me, a genuine smile through all that stifled pain, and suddenly it’s easy. “I’ve got a place I bet even you haven’t found.”

“That’d be impressive,” Joel answers. 

We make our way out of town, walking along the ditch into sunflower fields. We’re out of town limits now, out the West side this time. This area has few crop fields surrounded by dense woods abuzz with insect life. Even at the side of the road the bugs are everywhere; the honeybees working hard accompanied by butterflies, grasshoppers, crickets and spiders. Joel distances himself from the wall of flowers, walks in the very middle of the road. The instinct against things that buzz is understandable. I myself couldn’t stand the things for most of my life until I stopped to observe. “Hey, check this out,” I allow a centipede to crawl between my fingers, tickling me with its tiny legs.

He takes a moment to focus, then steps back. “Get that demon away from me.”

“It won’t bite, c’mon.”

“I heard those things spray cyanide.” He shivers.

“Maybe if you give the little guy a chance, he’ll spare you.” Just as I’m about to put it back, Joel takes a hesitant step towards me. “Happy?”

“Very,” I smile. Joel snickers.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re so damn weird, man.” He smiles and walks closer to me again. 

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Good, ‘cause it is.”

We’re approaching the point where the fields end and forest begins, so I hang a right down a dirt path between flowers and woods.

“Still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Joel kicks a rock into the trees.

“It’s something I’ve been meaning to show you. Trust me you’ll like it.” At least I hope he does. “Mateo and I found this spot after we moved here, before I met you guys.” Joel doesn’t say anything. Soon the sun hides beneath the canopy of trees, sunlight only penetrating the gaps. Joel catches me lingering though, and stops as I gaze through the spaces in the trees. “What’re you lookin’ at bud?” 

“Nothing,” I reply instantly. 

“Been staring at nothin’ a lot lately. You sure?”

“Well are you seeing anything? Cause the ‘quiet kid’ finally snapping seems more reasonable.” 

“No, but…”

“But what?”

Joel bites his lip. “Everytime you’re seeing things, I’ve been hearin’ odd noises. A creaking that gives me chills.”

“It’s not just the trees?”

“That’s the thing. I’ve heard creaky old trees all my life, but they sound nothin’ like this. I dunno. At least you’re not the only one losing it.”

A long pause, and I think I hear what he’s talking about. A squeaky tree? Maybe. But when wind flows through, the sound comes after like an echo. We continue.

Joel stands close to avoid scratching himself on the branches, so much so our bodies are nearly touching. An arm grazes here and our hands skim each other’s unexpectedly. “Hope you’re not taking those mumblings to heart. They’re all brainless, and in a few weeks we won’t have to see ‘em ever again.”

“I’ll try not to take it to heart.”

“‘Cause anyone who gets to know ya knows how kind, and creative, and funny you really are. It’s their loss.” 

Thank’s Joel,” I reply. 

If something’s wrong, would Joel tell me? In the year I’ve known him he's never come to me about serious matters, for a while I figured it was the casual relationship we had. But now we’re investigating a killer with connections to both of us, we were nearly busted for drugs, broke into a restaurant, and it still feels like he’s keeping things from me. Then again, I didn’t exactly ask. Maybe if I hadn’t been so afraid to check up on my brother he’d have told me, then I could have done something to prevent this mess.

“So… shit’s been crazy huh?” I blurt. Normally I’d plan a conversation like this, and this is why. “How have you been holding up?” “Ehh,” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“I hope you know you can talk to me about stuff, if you want I mean. I’m not the best at advice, but I’m a pretty good listener. I’m really glad I met you, otherwise I’d really have no one right now. And if we’re gonna be friends, I want us to talk about the real stuff, I wanna help if I can.”

“The same goes for you.” Joel snickers and looks me in the face. “You’re a good friend, too good for a guy like me.”

“Wrong,” I chuckle.

He pauses, gust of wind blowing shaggy brown hair into his face. “Alright, caught me. Parents kicked me out, took my phone, it’s why I didn’t text first.”

“What happened?

“They got a few emails, ‘bout how I’m failing classes, among other stuff. It’s nothin’ I don’t already have coming.”

“So they just kick you out for the day when they’re mad?” I ask.

“Yeah, you know. The ol’ ‘Go spend the day outdoors because we can’t stand to look at ya’ Schtick. It’s the only way Mom can deal with me nowadays.” My hands fumble around the sides of my pants, feeling for the lone cigarette I had left in them, but no dice on the lighter. Luckily Joel hands me one, then takes it back to light a joint.

Joel sighs, stepping over the emerging roots of an oak tree. “I’m just a screw up. Everyone knows it.”

“Well, you’re there when I need you, and Annie, and Otto.” I take another drag and look away into the trees. “I’d have no one if I didn’t have you right now. I might have lost my mind a lot sooner if you didn’t have my back. So don’t say you’re a screw up, okay?”

“You’d have Annie at least.”

“I only met her because you thought I needed more friends. That was an awesome thing for you to do.”

“I guess.”

“And I like hanging out with you. You’re the only one in the world who I can ramble to about neutron stars or black holes over the phone at two am.”

“Even though I fell asleep last time.”

“You stayed awake for me even when you were gonna pass out. That’s what a good friend does.”

My eyes find his, and they’re just as red as before. He smiles sadly and moves just a little closer to me. After a moment of silence, he whispers, “thanks”.

We arrive at a dead tree on the right side of the path. It’s branches stick out like daggers, bringing me back to the day we found it. It was summer of last year, about a month after moving to Matlock. Mateo and I had been trying to get away from the house because Dad was throwing a fit. He had caught me smoking and flipped out, saying some hurtful things in the name of helping me. Mateo told him off, but I’d already locked myself away for the remainder of the night. Unlike Joel’s family, our parents always sent us to our rooms when they couldn’t deal with us. Until Mateo appeared, tapping on the glass of my bedroom window. We snuck out to kill some time in the great outdoors. He was quite the nature lover, so he took me to the woods where we explored for a few hours. When we found the tree I couldn’t shake its significance. The dead oak felt like an arrow pointing to something no one has found before, and to pur mutual shock, it was.

Joel and I push through sticks and leaves that scratch our faces. Since we’ve gone off-path, we need to walk single-file. It’s a short walk before we arrive, but I still think about bringing up what happened at school the other day. We talked a little with Annie while she dodged detention, but it didn’t really do anything for our investigation. If anything it would point more evidence to Wendy, which doesn’t really help us right now. All we know is that whoever messed up Joel’s car was thinking ahead, which is more than Joel thinks Wendy is capable of. Until we get any other leads it looks like we hit a dead end, and bringing that up now doesn’t seem helpful.

So I make sure to emerge first so I can see Joel’s face as he sees it for the first time. I find it difficult to rely on people’s words to know if they appreciate something the way I do, so many people act polite. But it’s all there in the way Joel’s face lights up in awe. Right in front of us is a deep lake with large and small rocks across the shore, but the rest of the clearing is tall grass flattened by months of private hangouts and smoke sessions away from home. The area is about twenty feet in diameter, and everything about it is perfect. It’s the spot where Mateo and I would come to drink coffee and talk about what was bothering him that day, it’s where I would come to have alone time on the bad days. It’s where I spend my time when I need to draw and be alone, but I know I can trust Joel with it. In a way, it’s a bit more personal than showing him my room.

“What do you think?” I ask.

Joel gazes up into the clear blue sky, at the pine and oak trees that tower over our heads. “It’s like I walked into one of your paintings.”

The current is slow and inviting today, a fantastic spot to sit and study or draw. I quickly find myself at its side to hide my hot face. Joel takes his overshirt off and spreads it out over the grass. He takes a smooth rock and skips it across the water. He smirks at me but there’s something else to his expression, like a bit of pride mixed with embarrassment.

“Saw some woods like those in one of your paintings, with your brother. You take him here too?” He asks. 

I douse the embers on my shoe and place the butt in my pocket. “We found it together, actually. I thought the trees were pointing to something, and they were.” I only realize how insane the sentence sounds after it's said out loud.

“Maybe the forest wanted you to find it,” He says with only a sliver of irony.

“You don’t strike me as a spiritual type.”

“Hell no,” He pauses with another rock in hand ready to throw, but doesn’t. “Why, are you?”

“Religious you mean?”

“Yeah, all that crap.”

“Sort of,” I answer truthfully. “My father held respect for the dead, he builds shrines for my Mother and other family we’ve lost. I don’t believe in it I guess, but it helps me feel close to her, so I understand it.”

“Sorry Miles, I didn’t mean to sound like a total ass just now.”

“From your experience I don’t blame you. The fact that our universe exists at all is pretty much as unexplainable as it gets. Some higher power doesn’t seem so impossible.”

Joel jumps up, stretching his back when I know a bug just landed on him. “‘Nuff of that. I see somethin’ over thataway and I’d like to check it out.” 

“Perfect, that was our next stop actually.” About ten meters south stands an elm tree rising far into the sky. It’s base about five feet in width with branches spiraling around. An old bench circles the bottom, swallowed by centuries of growth. It sits in the perfect spot, surrounded by lush green yet shaded and cool.

Joel stares above at the canopy above our heads and steps up the bench. “Seems you’re not the only one who enjoyed it.” He says, hopping down and taking a seat. 

“C’mon,” I take Joel’s wrist in my hand and pull him off the bench, “There’s more.” I guide him to the rear side of the tree, back in the deep of the woods. Several meters away sits a heap of rotten wood, blanketed under dirt and moss.

“I think this was a house at some point, but I have no idea what happened to it. Mateo and I sometimes made up stories.”

“You should tell me your stories.”

“Maybe another time.”

Joel follows to the rear end of the rubble, testing the unstable ground with my feet. Sweeping away leaves with my feet reveals a grey trap door.

“Don’t tell me-”

“It isn’t a sex dungeon.”

He nudges me with an elbow, “So artsy, yet you lack imagination.”

Butterflies shoot through my body where we touched, I try not to let it show. “I’ve actually never been inside. Mateo checked it out once, turns out it’s full of dead things and maggots.”

Joel swallows hard, visible dread crossing his face. “Maybe just a peek…?”

Suppressing the urge to heed Mateo’s words, I place my fingers into the dirt and lift with my legs. The door is heavier than I’d expect, or sealed tightly. Joel shines a light into the murky basement, walls lined with rotten shelves, rat droppings, and of course, lots of bugs. Joel shudders, yet seems delighted at the find. He begins to dust himself off, but he spots something that silences him down to the breath. Joel illuminates a crawlspace in the far corner, leading into a long dark hallway extending beyond the light. Looking deeper, almost mesmerized by the darkness, two points of white light appear. I shoot up from the ground and slam the door shut. Joel eyes me questioningly.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say.

Joel zips his lips shut, heading back towards the main clearing. He dusts off the bench around the elm tree and takes a seat, I sit next to him.

“Thanks for showin’ me this,” He says. His tone changed since he arrived at my house, subtle, but there’s a little more life in it.

“I’m glad I could finally show someone. Do you want to leave? I know the bugs freak you out.”

He taps my knee with his palm, smiles, “This time, I think I’ll tough it out.”

***

It’s getting late by the time Joel and I are heading back, I can’t help but hope he leaves feeling better than when he came. The sun is hanging low over fields blowing softly. Though the forest is long behind our backs, I find myself staring back, at the silhouette of trees against pink sky. The stars peeking through seem so eerily like eyes.

At some point Joel switched on music, by the time we reach sunflower fields Joel’s playing air guitar, I join in with the drums. “God, when are we starting a band bro?”

“Unfortunately I have zero musical skills whatsoever. In another lifetime maybe.” Things continue this way until we reach my house again. “I don’t suppose you wanna come in again?”

“Thanks Miles, but I’m ‘sposed to meet with Ruby soon, figure out this family mess.” Joel smiles warmly. “But thanks for today. I really needed it.”

At the door I turn to him, “I hope you figure things out soon. Let me know if you need a place to crash, or if you wanna lose at more videogames.” 

Joel pats me on the shoulder, “I will. Night man.”

The door shuts to a quiet house, as it will stay for another endless night.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX CHAPTER TWELVE

It emerged on the beach shore and watched. Everything was so different since the last time it saw the sky. Yet it couldn’t shake the familiarity of this town in this era. For the first time it was both home and alien, stranger and local. The creature exit the water as droplets turned to ice. It ascended five, ten then twenty feet above its surface, as tall as the largest trees. The creature took on the shape and behavior of swaying trees so it could grapple with the confusing feelings alone. 

But then the fire came, white-hot fury within it’s body. It begged for its end, but intense emotion was all it felt now, it consumed the creature once again.

“Hours to hours,” It seethed, repeating endlessly.

Then, a human. Lip curled slightly inwards as he bit hard, draped in black just as it was. The small creature shared many of its burning thoughts, and it tossed objects into the water while containing a furious scream. The creature didn’t know why it felt such a kinship with this human, maybe he was lost and confused just as it was. 

It remained deep within the trees, said gutteraly, “I may know how you feel.”

The human looked left and right, up and down, but couldn’t uncover the source of this voice. Until he met the glowing pinhole eyes. It should have been terrifying, but Otto didn’t even flinch. He only wondered why something so strange could be speaking with him. “How could you?” He unzipped his sweater, felt the cool radiance of the creature’s skin. 

“Because I feel the hatred you feel. There are disgusting people in this world, who must receive the punishment they earned. Perhaps we could aid each other.”

Otto should have been afraid, but there was an understanding he couldn’t explain. All his life he felt othered by those who despised the cold. In the end he didn’t really care, if this thing would get it’s hands dirty for him, then it would be well worth it. “Okay then. Help me and I will help you. I think you do understand.”

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER ELEVEN

“See ya in class Miles,” I whisper on my way out the door. With a smile on my face I open the front door, slam it shut and-

Dented bumper, smashed windows, scratches scribbled across my old faithful truck.

“No,” I plead, peeking through the shattered passenger window. “Nonononono.” Anger overtakes my thoughts, tensing muscles and clenching the jaw like a vice. Without thinking I kick the bumper over and over, “FUCKING- BITCH-”

Miles walks outside in pajama pants, wiping sleep from his concerned eyes. “The laptop-”

“Yup, gone!” Pacing the vehicle, I throw an aching foot at it.

“The truck didn’t do it.”

“I don’t care. What kinda person does this?! What the hell did I do?” On the opposing side of the vehicle the scratches take on a pattern. They’re scribbled as if done in a hurry, but form words: HOURSTOHOURS. Ready to punch something again, I’m stopped by Miles approaching my side. “Be angry, I’d be too. Just please don’t hurt yourself.”

“Oh what do you care any-” Glancing over, Miles’s concerned expression tugs on my heart. I hit a few buttons on my phone and listen to the ring.

Annie starts, ”Hey dude, did you check the-”

“Nope. Ran into an issue.”

“Dude, how did you lose it already?”

“It was stolen. Not important anymore. I need you to ask Otto where Aaron was last night.”

“And you didn’t check it first thing?!”

“Annie!”

“Alright alright, one sec.”

There’s some muffled conversation on the other end. “Aaron’s been gone all night. Went hunting with his dad.”

“Then it has to be Wendy! I knew that sick fuck was the one-”

“Sorry man, wasn’t her either. Kept an old camera recording her house all night, just in case. Saw her go in, no one came out.”

I hang up immediately and take a seat on the pavement, head in hands. “I dunno how I could be so stupid, leaving it there like that.”

“The fact that someone knew exactly where and when to find it is telling. It has to be someone who knew, that narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

“I dunno man, I just need to think.” That’s as good an excuse as any. “I’ll see you in class.”

***

  Miles

Tick, tick, tick. I wound up in chemistry half an hour early to work on the comic, when the bell rings I have nothing to show for it. All I’ve done is stare into empty panels and scribble in the margins. That obnoxious clock stealing my attention reminds me of the last time I lost someone. When my mother passed I always imagined a little clock above my head, to my own death. Whenever I felt my time was being wasted, I heard the tick, distracting me further. A cruel feedback loop, a reminder of each pointless second lost. Now that Mateo is gone I’ve been noticing old habits returning from this time, including the imaginary clock. I know he’d want me to finish it, but now these unfinished panels only further cement the reality that he’s gone. 

Students enter one by one, filling the room with eyes. When it becomes too much I slam the book shut and shove it in my bag, resting a head in my hand until Joel takes a seat next to me. Chem is the only class we have together, a subject I’ve never cared for but still look forward to every day.

Joel’s hooded head falls between his arms and he turns away. I’m glad our teacher didn’t call him out in front of the class again. “Hey,” I whisper. Joel doesn’t acknowledge me. I consider poking him, or stepping on his foot, but I’m sure he just needs some space.

Still, I can’t resist a check up.

I scribble onto a post-it and slide it under his arm, “Holding up?” When he rises to check the note, he reveals his face for a moment. Eyes hang down in distress cast in deep shadows. A bruise maybe? Joel keeps it hidden, even while raising to write a reply.

“Talk about it later maybe”

Well that’s an awful sign if I’ve ever seen one. I feel useless to help him, I don’t even know how to try. Maybe he needs some time in the forest finally. 

I slide over one more note, “sry about your truck, hang in there :)”

Joel remains still for the rest of class, aside from periodically checking his phone. A subtle shaking grabs my attention, only his fingers jitter as he types away. I guess that’s another thing the two of us have in common. Joel holds his hand down to stop himself but it seems uncomfortable. With a light groan he reaches for an orange pill bottle inside his backpack. He carefully pops it open, pauses, then mutters under his breath, “Fuck off.” He looks left, right, then stuffs the bottle back inside. He looks at me and I shoot an eyebrow, then tears a sticky note from my pile and scribbles, “COCAINE IN MY BAG.”

“Why???” I write back.

“I know what i said last night but im seriously gonna kill this mother fucker”

Our killer put it there, they had to have. Joel’s backpack was in his car when it was busted open.

Joel breathes shakily while sliding another note. “WHAT DO I DO??”   

“Stay calm, get rid of it after class” I start when a mortifying shadow appears over my shoulder. “If you two have to pass notes during class, I’m sure there’s nothing you’d need to keep from everyone else.” My legs freeze up, eyeing Joel with desperation, begging with my eyes to get me out of this. He stays as rigid as I. “Go on now,” he nudges. I take the notes from my desk and slowly walk to the front, wobbling on every step. Oh god, they’re going to think I’m drunk too. It feels like my knees might give out completely as kids snicker and whisper. I turn to face the crowd, and feel my stomach sink at the sight.

This is a nightmare.

I hold out the notes in front of me, the ones that clearly state Joel carries cocaine, and my instructions for getting rid of it. Just say an excuse, anything will do. Literally any single thing we could be talking about through notes in class.

“Uh- m-meet me at my place after class,” I stammer. Aaron “Ooohs” from the sidelines. “Enough,” The teacher spits.

“...and I said, okay, see you then.” I lower the notes while sweat drips down my forehead.

He only stares and thumps his foot. 

Aaron chimes in again, “Soo what about the rest?”

“Let me see those.” The teacher starts my way, and at this point it’s do or die. Let him see these notes and have Joel miss graduation, or face humiliation. My choice is clear, I shred the notes as many times as I can.

“Miles!” He exclaims. “Over here, now.” He guides me to his desk in the back. “We’re going to have a talk after class, I think Joel can join us.”

“Yessir,” Is what I manage to force through my mouth. Turning back I find my seat again, trying not to burst into tears in front of all these eyes.

Class continues as normal afterwards, though the occasional staring and/or giggling doesn’t stop. Joel hands over the next note behind his back, “you really saved my ass. But you don't gotta do that for me, just fess up next time.”

“Not a chance,” my note replies. His returned smile brings some semblance of comfort.

A short, thick man enters the room, says, “Hawkins!” There’s no holding back the disdain in his voice, clearly this isn’t his first meeting with the security guard. “Hallway, now.”

“It's Joel for fuck sake. “

“Language!” Teacher exclaims. “I think you’d better take Miles with you this time,” the teacher scowls.  

The guard waves me forward.

Something has to turn our way fast. I’ve already taken the phone from my pocket to frantically type, “ND DSTRCTN CHEM NOW!!”

“Bring your bags, both of you,” the guard orders, continuing once out of class. “Throwing your future away is your own choice kid, but bringing another into it?” He shakes a head and clicks his tongue.

“I dunno what this is all about,” Joel starts. “But I think we’re missing an important lesson right now.”

“Great, then I’m sure you’d like this to be over just as soon as I. The bag.”

“Ya got a warrant?” Joel says. 

The guard sighs and scratches his neckbeard. “No, but if you want to involve the police it’d be my pleasure.” His smile grows wide with the stink of garlic masked faintly by mint gum.

Joel crosses his arms. “You think I never heard bluff before?”

Shoes squeak against waxy floors. Joel continues to stall while holding tightly onto his bag. Annie zips around the corner at the far end of the hall, skidding to a stop once she sees us. “HELP” I mouth at her. Otto appears behind and stops at her side, whispering in Annie’s ear. He tugs at her shirt but she slaps his hand away.

“Just hand it over if you have nothing to hide.” The guard continues. 

Joel smirks. “Why? Losin’ so much time you could spend creeping on teenage girls?”

The guard’s eyes flare with rage, and cheeks turn light pink. Then a crash. The guard looks away where Annie had knocked over a garbage can, sprawling garbage all over the place.

“Hey!” He calls to her. “What are you doing?” 

Annie stares back dumbfounded, “Uhhh.” 

“Pick that up will you?” He turns back around and sticks out a hand. “The bag, Hawkins.” 

Suddenly, Wendy Anson of all people turns the corner with a smirk. She says something to Annie, who’s lip twitches in response. Annie seems to panic, eyes searching for some distraction to save us, until she just shrugs and punches Wendy in the face. “Annie!” Otto exclaims. “Why would you do that?”

Caught off guard, Wendy trips backward over the slippery remains of half-eaten breakfasts, growling, “What’s your problem?!” Joel and I can hardly contain our laughter. Wendy throws a fist back at her, but misses after slipping on more garbage. 

“Seriously…?” The guard mumbles before taking off. “You two! Cut it out.”

Joel scrambles for the drugs while I try and block line-of-sight. He looks all around before tossing it atop of a row of lockers, then adds a plastic bag containing two joints.

“Detention, the both of you.”

“But she’s the one who-” Wendy protests.

“Don’t care. It takes two to fight.”

Joel thumbs-up to Annie, she shoots one back. “I’m very sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll see you in detention to really think over my terrible mistake.” She and Otto walk off, where a lecture is sure to follow.

When the guard comes back, Joel confidently hands him the bag. He rummages through the biggest pocket, turning up nothing but crumpled up balls of paper, a pair of scissors, and pretzels.

“Clean this time. Your turn Ramos.” He searches my bag and discovers nothing but a few novels, a pair of headphones, a spare binder, and Mateo’s sketchbook. “Well, nothing on you, but that doesn’t mean you’re in the clear yet. I know you’ve been dodging meeting with the counselor, so you’ll be meeting soon, and you’re going to show unless you want us to have a long talk with your parents.”

“Like that’ll help,” Joel mumbles.

“It’s no joking matter. You won’t need much to graduate, so just get it done.”

“‘Cause god forbid anyone has to deal with me another year.”

“That’s not-”

“I get the picture. Now can we get outta here?”

Once class finally ends, Joel shoots straight out the door. He grabs the drugs and nonchalantly shoves them in his jean pocket. “Shall we?” He gestures toward the door outside, where we both walk out into the sun. Joel looks at me with squinting eyes and starts to giggle. In seconds we both burst into hysterics.

“I can’t believe Annie actually fuckin’ punched her,” he cackles.

“I’d almost feel bad,” I laugh. “If it were anyone else.” I shrug and plop down on the grass. Annie pushes through the front entrance a minute later.

“Thank you Annie,” I say. “You saved our lives.”

“Today I was given a blessed opportunity to punch Wendy Anson in the face. I believe I should be thanking you. Now, what the hell just happened?”

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER TEN

It rose from the lake slowly.

Meters of night-black water surrounded it, ice cold but still not cold enough. It wasn’t sure if this was freedom or just another prison to rot in. 

Every thought remaining in its ancient mind had been reduced to dreamlike images it couldn’t name or comprehend. It had memories of its life once, buried further and further into its consciousness until no humanity was left. A crow, a Robin, hours to hours. The filthy rat, it’s partner, hours to hours. 

As it rose, the strongest emotions became concrete. Things it didn’t understand but felt with every ounce of its being. Fear then terror, hatred, then anathema. They flooded its awareness like water flooded its body. 

Light grew stronger, a distorted figure shifting with the waves beyond reach.

It floated to the surface, and natural light met its eyes for the first time in a long, long while. This light was so familiar, it brought back traces of those horrible memories. The creature’s eyes burned in its faint glow, and with those small traces came its purpose, its reason for waiting all this time. Despite the foggy details it knew one thing for certain. I waited each hour, because the rat must die.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER NINE

Even with a stolen laptop full of potential answers sitting in my backseat, the only thing I can think about is how shaken Miles is. The wobble in his legs, the fidgeting hands, the disconnect between him and I. It seems he’s only interested in staring into those dark woods silently. 

On the way to Matlock Beach you’re certain to encounter at least one decrepit farmhouse or shack. At a fleeting glance, Miles’s house could be mistaken for such a place. Cracked windows and siding grey from age, overgrown grass and a frail little porch. A rickety white fence surrounds the property, extending through the shadowy back yard.

Despite that, the eerie thing to me is the lack of life. Not a car in the driveway, no lights, no sound. The property itself is far enough from town to drive any lonely soul insane. I know his dad is around sometimes, but is it really just him here? Alone?

Miles continues to stare, wide eyes reflected on the glass alongside foggy breath. I crack the window open when the slow creaking of trees sound just outside.

“See anything interesting?” I ask. Say anything else next time Joel, anything. Miles shakes his head as if waking from a daydream. “Huh?”

I twist the music’s volume from low to silent. “See something again?” It’s difficult to keep the guilt from creeping in, only now do I feel the fingernail digging into my bare wrist. Your situation brought this anxiety on him. 

“I thought something was moving. Probably just waiting to see something, you know?”

Past the yard into the shallow forest, something shifts. A tree sways off sync with everything around it. “Like the lights?”

“Keep thinking I’m seeing them, it’s always when I’m overcome by this feeling that something else is around.” A long pause. “Anxiety getting to me is all. Anyway… would you wanna come inside for a bit?”

A smile spreads across my cheeks and disappears just as fast. “Sure, if you want. Not like I got anything better to do.” The engine dies and we each step outside. Miles’s whole body shakes, I extend an arm to steady him but recoil at the last moment. 

He swings the door open, greeting me with the smell of cat litter. “Sorry about the mess, and the smell.”

“You’ve been to my house man, this is nothin’.” The cat comes rubs its face against Miles’s leg.

“This is Goose, the only one keeping me sane in this house.”

The main floor is nothing but an open living room with a brick fireplace, branching into four other rooms. While Miles rubs the cat’s cheeks I wander towards the sparse photos lining the walls. There’s one of Miles holding a fish, though he doesn’t seem proud, in fact he looks to be on the verge of tears. The next one is him, Mateo, and their parents on a staged grey background. Neither photos could be from more than a year or two ago, not a single childhood photo. I was hoping for something embarrassing to tell Annie about. 

Miles waves me over to a door. “Here’s my room.” He flicks on the light and shuts the blinds.

His room is much busier than I expected, walls cluttered with posters, photos and art. The paintings depict beautiful landscapes, most are impossible locations full of surreal geometry, but some I can pinpoint in real life. He’s expertly captured the downtown streets, forests and lakes. A night sky catches my eye, lit with stars streaking across, and two silhouettes watching together. I spot one where Miles sits along a rooftop with several faces I don’t recognise.

“Those were my friends when I lived in the city.”

The painting below depicts two people laughing as they walk through the woods; Miles and Mateo. 

Surrounding the window are dozens upon dozens of polaroid pictures. Most are those old friends mentioned, but I spot Annie, Otto and I in a few.

“This one was the last day of tenth grade,” Miles says. “My friends took me to the art gallery downtown.” He recollects with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

“Hold on, tenth? Says this was three years ago.”

“So?”

“So you’re graduating this year, what are you still doing in highschool? I know you didn’t fail a grade.”

Miles starts to twirl a pencil between his fingers, timidly answering, “Oh, right. I was actually held back in eleventh grade.” 

As long as I’ve known Miles his grades have been almost perfect, hasn’t skipped a single class until yesterday. “Why?”

“Some personal… stuff came up. It was no big deal, really, but I had to take a break.”

I stare at him for a long second, not wanting to push him for an answer. Reluctantly he continues. “When my mom died a few years ago I got really bad agoraphobia. I didn’t leave the house for more than a year. Doctors and dad figured it better to hold me back a grade than throw me in a psyche ward.”

“Jesus-”

“But it’s fine, I don’t really love talking about it anyway. Don’t mean to kill the mood.”

“Things are getting tough and if you wanna talk about it, or not talk about it, that’s why I’m here.”

He smiles sadly and sits on the bed. “Thanks for coming over. Since my mom, my room was the only place I felt safe, but now I just see the backyard where Mateo disappeared.”

“If you ever need me I’ll be here. It’ll always beat sitting in my house all night.” I steady his shaking shoulder now, slowly overcoming the urge to retract. “And just look at how cool this place is. You even got your own tv and game console?” 

“I own like two games.” He reaches under his bed and pulls an extra controller. “You want to play?”

“Only if you’re alright with getting your ass beat,” I smile.

“Like hell you will,” Miles scoffs.

We settle on some racing game, where I’ll eat my words.

“Where’s that shit talk now, huh?” He says after another win. I playfully bump shoulders and scoot closer to him to avoid falling off the bed. Maybe in the end Miles didn’t need adrenaline to stop the anxious thoughts, just good times with a friend.

An hour passes, then two, then three. For once it feels like the good times might not end, but about one in the morning I stretch and mention I should be heading home.

Miles freezes, glances at the floor, then the window. I can tell he has something to say but has trouble saying it.

“What is it?” I prod softly.

“Can you stay?”

“Of course I can.”

We gather blankets and pillows for a makeshift floor-bed. Still, no one’s home but us, which is a good thing if not a little concerning. A lot of people know about Annie and I’s antics, and many find entertainment in rumours. If word got around how long would it be before his paranoid father found out?

Half an hour passes of staring at the ceiling, hands under my head.

“Hey,” Miles whispers. “We got the laptop, why haven’t you looked at it yet?”

“I dunno,” I admit. I spent so much worrying about Miles I hadn’t thought of it. “Got distracted, I’ll take a look first thing tomorrow.”

Silence again for a few minutes.

Miles clears his throat. “When we were leaving that tunnel, did you see anything?”

“No, but noticed you looking back a lot.”

“Thought I saw eyes.”

“Next time you see em’ you can show me.”

“Don’t I sound crazy? Wouldn’t I seem more crazy if I were pointing at nothing?”

“Somethin’ you gotta understand from the get-go, is that Matlock beach is anything but normal. Especially the people. I’d believe you over any other crazy motherfucker in this place.”

“I believe it,” Miles shifts onto his side and looks at me. “I’m just thinking about how much I miss my brother. Maybe its just easier to accept some paranormal entity did it, instead of knowing nothing.”

“Do you wanna talk about him?” I suggest. Mateo and I never had much incentive to talk, but now I wish I had.

“God, where do I start? I could tell you that he was a huge dork for horror and art, more so than me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“...he’s the one who got me into all that. He taught me to draw when I was little. Well, I guess we sort of learned together. We always had some project to work on, murals at school or comics.” I recall the sketchbook he grabbed from Mateo’s room. “But he didn’t care about that half as much as horror. He would draw terrifying monsters, even wrote short stories for them, or data logs. He’d warn me about monsters acting like everyday objects, or one that hides underground and disguises itself as tall grass. He was the most creative person I ever knew. He would have grown into an incredible artist, I believe he’d be recognised for his creativity one day. That he’d change people with what he made. Now all that’s gone. All the potential for the rest of his life, just gone. I can’t even wrap my head around it.”

The way Miles speaks of his brother brings a tear to my eye. I couldn’t even imagine losing someone like that. “He sounds pretty great.”

“He was.”

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER EIGHT

“Uh oh.” 

The whooping alarm grows closer but Annie won’t react. I tuck the laptop under one arm and grasp Annie’s with the other, make a beeline for the hallway, front desk, then kitchen. Disordered cutlery and pans crash while Annie struggles to regain her composure. Weren’t we past this? Annie has iron nerves but the adrenaline gets to her way too easily.

“Police!” a female cop yells through the front entrance. Miles and Annie dart for the back door until I stop them. “Wait! She’s got a partner, bet my life on it. The other cop is probably gonna circle around to the back exit.”

A foot pounds against the door, Miles’s fingers sharply grip my shoulders. “So what do we do?!” 

I swing open the walk-in cooler to the stench of rotten meat. “Get in the damn fridge!” Once the door closes we huddle below the window in sudden silence. Miles still grips my arm, but loosens once he’s calmed his breathing. When a light beam sweeps past the window. Annie and I place our ears on the door and listen closely.

“Come out with your hands behind your head,” a male cop shouts. The light beams by the window again, briefly filling the small cooler with light. His footsteps echo through the room with increasing volume until he has to be just a few feet from us.

More footsteps, more silence. I know he’s getting closer, just a few steps away. Standing, I scour the shelves for the source of the rot. “Can I trust your throwing arm right now?”

Annie’s guilt-struck face perks up. “Always partner.”

“On my mark kick this fuckin’ door as hard as you can. There’ll be one cop right here, one waiting outside. The bomb is for the one outside, capiche?”

Annie and Miles both nod, only one seems to like my idea.

Step, step, step- “NOW!” The door swings into the cop, he staggers backward into the countertop in an explosion of sounds.

Annie sprints towards the door and throws the rotten meat into the second cop’s face. We erupt into maniacal laughter while slamming the back door closed behind us.

“Annie, give Miles a boost, quickly!”

As I drop down to the other side Annie interlocks her fingers, then boosts Miles until he can grasp the top, pull himself over and crash onto the grass. I take Miles’s hand and bring him to his feet. Annie makes it halfway up the fence before the cop grabs her ankle, but she holds on tight.

Miles is quick to grab fistfuls of rocks, and we pelt the cop with as many as we can carry. I aim for the eyes but miss and hit Annie a few times, but we have enough good shots to free her. 

The female cop turns the corner, taser in hand. She went through the whole building to get here, but still grimaces with disgust. “Stop!” 

Annie takes a handful herself and pelts the cop with stone after stone until enough distance has been made. Then we drop everything and run like hell.

“Where do we go?” Miles asks. “If they find your truck we’re screwed.”

“I know, we’re gonna lose them in the tunnel,” I answer.

“Is that a joke?” Annie adds.

“It’ll work won’t it?”

“Get back here!” The cop yells from behind the fence under strain. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Miles repeats to my left.

“What, first time getting chased by the cops?” Annie hollers. I risk a short glance around, where one cop is helping the other down from the fence, they’ll be back on us in a matter of seconds.

We make a hard right and continue into darkness. “Looks like the tunnel curves away up ahead. We'll hide for now and figure out a plan.” I try to keep my flaming lungs quiet, though Miles pants like a dog. Annie on the other hand keeps a consistent pace farther in the depths.

Once hidden, I slow to a manageable speed. We haven’t been chased like this in forever, not with the adrenaline pumping this way. Some get their fix from rollercoasters or videogames, for Annie and I this is our high, our taste of freedom in a prison-town. 

Miles catches up on my side. “Do you think they’ll look for us here?”

Making a point to whisper I reply, “Might, if they’ve got reason to look.”

“How the hell did they find us? Do you think we’re actually gonna get arrested?”

I face Miles and place two hands on his shoulders. “We’re gonna be okay, that’s a promise.”

Two seconds of silence, then the unmistakable echo of boots crunching on gravel. Miles presses next to me in terror. 

“Did they go in there?” The female cop pants to her partner. 

“Didn’t see,” the other replies. A few more seconds, Annie clasps a hand across Miles’s mouth to silence his panicked breathing.

“Hey!” The female cop yells. “You kids need to get out of there right now, train’s coming!”

“Just a trick,” I whisper. “I’m not fallin’ for it.”

“For sure,” Annie chimes in. The cop awaits an answer, the partner yawns, “They probably ran off to the woods. If they’re in there they’ll be out soon enough.”

“Or they’ll be dead, Terry.” She snaps at him.

“So?” He laughs.

“Seriously!” She continues, “We aren’t going to arrest you, just get out of there right now.”

Annie chuckles, “Bullshit.”

“Okay, you’re probably right, let’s go,” the cop says.

“Can’t remember a time I was goddamn wrong,” his voice fades. The three of us blow sighs of relief.

The elation of safety is short-lived though when the train blares it’s horn. “You’re fuckin’ kidding.” I mumble, scraping through gravel in a sprint, Miles close behind. But just like before, there are only two pairs of feet running.

So we both stop and face her, “Annie, we gotta go damnit!” But she doesn’t move an inch. It’s a miracle she hasn’t gotten killed doing this yet.

“Miles, get out, I’ll grab her.” But it’s clear he isn’t leaving without us. “Annie move!” I continue. But she remains transfixed on the train’s bright light approaching from the distance. There must be time to escape, but the window is closing fast. There’s no time for this, I yank her arm and make a break for it.

The deafening screech of metal on metal echoes through the tunnel, the headlight grows brighter, the window closes. We’ve lost our chance and we’re out of options. I throw an arm onto Miles and Annie’s chests and hold them tight against the wall, while becoming as flat as possible. The train launches past only a few inches from the tip of my nose. The overwhelming sounds, the blinding light and gust of wind threaten to throw me off balance. Miles’s eyes are pinched shut and he shivers with fear.

But at least he isn’t thinking about Mateo. 

Over all the noise Annie’s laughter slowly builds in a mad crescendo, and despite my frustrations I can’t help but join her. Five to ten minutes later the final car flashes by and leaves us in silence. 

Before it seems weird I let go of Miles’s chest and he takes a knee in the dirt, calming himself with controlled breaths.

Annie on the other hand practically explodes with laughter. “That was insane.”

“Don’t think I’m gonna forget you almost gettin’ us killed again. I thought your freezin’ situation was taken care of?”

Annie’s smiles suddenly dissolves, her tone fallen serious, “So did I.” She looks past me to Miles. “You okay?” She crouches to eye level. 

“Yeah…” He pants. ”I need a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute,” I say, holding the laptop in front of me. “We need to get the hell out of here before those cops come back”

Annie grabs Miles’s arm and helps him off the ground. But as we leave Miles continuously glances backward into the dark depths. Whenever he does I make sure to check myself, but I hardly find a thing. Maybe a small flash of light, but it’s too difficult to focus through those horrible creaks.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER SEVEN

Annie lights her cigarette and passes it to Miles after one long puff. The brain’s stimulation is starting to fade, so I light a joint between my lips. Annie hands me her lighter without a word.

“Not to question your experience, but is weed a good idea right now?” Miles asks.

“Maybe not for some people,” I speak through a mouthful of pretzels. “At this point high is my default state, can’t focus without it.”

“I think that’s called dependency.”

“Respectfully, I think you should can it. You need your smokes, I need mine.”

“Amen,” Annie chuckles and sits up, facing Miles. “Have you never smoked weed before?”

He takes another drag and says. “My dad would murder me if he found out. When he caught me smoking cigarettes for the first time he only let me inside to eat and sleep for weeks.”

“Really?” Annie resumes her relaxed position. “In my household grounding had the opposite effect.”

“That wasn’t close to the worst part. My Dad can act overprotective to say the least.” Another, longer drag.

Annie shrugs, “No offense, but you dad seems like a dick.”

“He has his moments I guess. He’s gone through a lot in the last few years, so I understand where he’s coming from, at least. Now he’s all the family I have left.”

I peer back through the binoculars, barely emerging above the tall grass. Still that one light on.

“So let me get this straight,” Annie says. “You’ll hang out with us, watch us torture some kid and get involved with dog-killers and drug dealers, not to mention help bust into a restauraunt. But pot is what’s gonna send your dad over the edge?”

“It's different, I can justify this to myself.” He puts out the cigarette and puts it in his pocket before taking another one.

“You’ve got a weird moral compass man,” I say.

Finally the light flicks off, and after two minutes a silhouetted figure opens and exits the front door. I nudge Annie and hand her the binoculars.

“We should wait a minute or two longer to make sure they’re gone.” I face Miles, trying to detect in his face if he’s still doing alright. “You ready?”

“In a sec.” He inhales about a quarter of the cigarette before exhaling. “Okay, I should be good. What are we gonna do if this place has a security system?”

Eyes laser focused on the diner, Annie replies. “They don’t have anything obvious, I’m guessing they spent their security budget on that camera.”

I slip my backpack over my shoulders and slide the bandana up my face. Miles and Annie both place theirs and huddle close in the grass. “Go time,” I whisper.

Even when we’re close we stay low, these are the worst times to get careless. When you’re so excited to start, legs bouncing and blood pumping with anticipation, it can easily get to your head if you’re not careful. During one of our first B&E’s, Annie was seen running up to the back door by the shop owner who hadn’t left like we thought. If I hadn’t grabbed Annie and ran we’d have been caught for sure, since Annie froze like a deer in headlights.

“Miles, are you coming or what?” Annie says. Breaking my focus, I didn’t realize Miles had stopped moving several feet back. He stands still, staring back into the darkness.

“I thought I saw something behind us,” he doesn’t look in our direction but he slowly starts again. After he’s caught up, Annie and I scan the grass for anyone, but there’s nothing we can see. Just to stay on the safe side we backtrack a little, checking the tunnel and grassy area surrounding it, but there’s no one. My ears perk up at the sound of creaking trees. Something I’ve heard all the time and never paid mind to, now sends goosebumps up my arm. Even if there was someone hiding, the blowing grass wouldn't be able to hide them. Maybe someone could have snuck into the tunnel, but Miles seeing things again seems a little more reasonable.

“It was nothing, sorry.”

“We’d rather you say somethin’ if you even suspect someone is followin’ us. Can never be too careful.” I pat him hard on the shoulder.

Miles mumbles something like a “thanks” but he doesn’t seem very proud. More likely it’s his nerves getting to him, and that damn video still. Annie shrugs it off and keeps moving.

We approach the fence from a steep angle, remaining in the camera’s blind spots. Lucky for us, the camera is perched in a high spot, above the fence and just under the shadow of the roof. It’s invisible in the dark aside from the blinking red LED. I hand Annie a medium sized rock, she knows without words that I trust her throwing arm. I’ve seen her pitch a baseball countless times and in a few unfortunate instances, felt it too. She readies herself with the rock at her hip, then smashes the thing to bits in one clean hit.

When the camera is safely dead, I toss my bag over the fence.

“Climbed many fences before, Miles?” Annie asks.

He laughs nervously, “Not exactly.” But starts digging his large feet through the slots anyway. As the shortest guy in every class since fourth grade, the climbing part of the job has never been an issue. What I lack in physical strength I make up for in agility. If I need something broken, that’s usually what Annie’s for, though from the looks of it Miles could handle some brute force if needed. He must work out with arms that big.

Focus Joel, Jesus.

Miles awkwardly swings a leg over the fence, wobbling more and more while trying to balance himself.

“Got it?” I whisper.

“I’m good,” he answers. Annie effortlessly drops to the other side, kicking aside the broken camera. Miles tries to mimic her movements, but his pants snag on the top causing him to trip, until the jeans tear and throw Miles at the concrete with a thud. 

“Miles!” I exclaim before physically shutting my own mouth. Annie squats next to him. “Shit, are you okay?” He groans and pushes his body off the ground.

I quickly hop the fence and bend down at his side, helping him up with a hand. His mask cracked from the impact, now the top corner is missing where his head hit the ground. “I’m ok. You don’t think anyone heard me do you?”

“C’mon, that’s not what I’m worried about,” I say. “You sure you didn’t break anything?”

“No one else should be within a kilometer,” Annie adds. “It’s fine. I’m more worried about Joel screaming.”

“No, I think I’m alright, let’s just do this.” He dusts off his hoodie and jeans, head held in his hand.

Annie shoves a gift card into the slit in the door moving up down, back and forth.

“You sure you’re good?” I whisper.

“No, but I probably don’t have a concussion, so whatever.” I move his hair to the side and check his head, just some rocks and dirt to dust off. Still I feel around for a bump, just in case.

“Not feelin’ dizzy or anything?”

“No, but I appreciate the concern.” 

The door clicks open, “Aha!” Seems she was right about the lack of security measures, but everything else is so cheap it comes as no surprise. The kitchen reeks of spoiled milk and expired meats. Every pot, pan, cooking utensil and stove element is charred and beaten, dropped daily and cleaned once a year by the look of it. The heat of the kitchen has sealed itself inside with the added warmth of the summer night. Sweat already beads on my forehead.

“Yikes,” Miles remarks.

“After we rob these people I’m calling a health inspector,” Annie adds.

“Now where do we find our footage, any ideas?” I ask.

“The camera out there looked relatively new. Probably stores its footage on a nearby PC,” Miles whispers.

“Probably the manager’s office,” I pace towards the front desk. “I think Wendy went down this way.” We turn down a narrow hallway with three doors and a disgusting moldy wallpaper. The door labeled Management is a small office with hundreds of papers covering the countertop and floor, with a nice laptop sitting on top. The only room that doesn’t reek with rot.

We both stare at Miles for a second. “What?” He asks.

“You’re the tech guy now,” Annie replies.

“Because I know how Wi-Fi works?”

“Yeah,” she steps into the dusty room. “I’ve never used a computer aside from school, and Joel doesn’t even do that.”

Miles sighs, “Alright, you have a thumb drive or something?” He raises an eyebrow and approaches Annie, who stares through the blinds motionless. “Annie?”

Miles and I approach cautiously, slowly meeting the point of interest with gut-twisting fear. Sirens.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER SIX

Drip, drip.

It laid in a dark room, feverishly muttering the same words it has for centuries, “Hourstohourstohoursto…”

It hadn't known a thing but darkness in all that time. It had grown used to its own company, making friends with the echoing whispers off the coffin walls.

But hundreds of years was nothing for this creature, it waited for as long as it needed to. Until the fateful day where one human’s obsession would change everything.

It heard another soul for the first time, just outside its prison. It was laughter, excitement. It hated the noise, wished for the creature’s death. The cave’s floor cracked under the human’s weight, weakened by centuries of erosion. 

It felt the floor underneath it give way, the rock crumbling into dust as the human screamed in terror. The icy coffin plunged into murky water, black from its own blood. As the coffin cracked and crumbled the creature finally managed to slip its way out, sliding through the water in search of escape.

The young human who freed it stared into the icy abyss. His flashlight clearly marked the hole the entity escaped from, and he knew in that moment that he’d made an unforgivable mistake. 

He wondered then, if the entity he searched for had escaped, then whose corpse had sunk into the depths? His journey had left him with more questions than answers, and it signaled his time to leave.

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER FIVE

Joel

Our feet hang off the edge of Annie’s roof, which overlooks the whole town. A joint in my hand and a cigarette in her’s, smoke wisps from her agape mouth. It’s about 6:30 in the morning, the sun just beginning to rise. I didn’t sleep, and was relieved to discover Annie couldn’t either. Though it isn’t as common, Annie still has her fair share of sleepless nights.

The morning is cold without wind, and the view from Annie’s roof is stunning. Her home stands at the peak of Matlock’s rolling hills, a two story building with a flat roof. A perfect spot for stargazing, smoking, or some time alone. 

Annie hits play again, pausing just as the arms reach out of the woods and grab Mateo. “This is wild, how did you get this?”

“Miles knew the code to Mateo’s phone and I guess no one else did. The night he went missing he and Miles were filming some art project.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

She watches the rest of the video again, breezing past the odd lights Miles noticed earlier. 

“How’d Miles take it?”

“Exactly how you’d think. Now he’s sure his brother is dead.”

“I’m convinced too,” Annie replies.

“He’s really messed up, I dunno what to do.”

“You don’t need to do anything. There’s nothing you can do unless you wanna find the body for him.”

“I just wanna make him feel better, but I’m next to useless.”

She inhales a drag from her cigarette and looks at me. “Well, you know what you’d do if I were in his shoes.”

“Can’t imagine throwing Miles on a b&e would help.”

“If he’s terrified he can’t be sad,” She giggles then lays down on her back, I do the same. “Plus, you do have your own killer to find. Maybe you help him by letting him help you.”

Lost in thought I puff my joint. “Don’t you find that strange? Two killers out here at once?”

She only shrugs, “All the more reason to take him then. If you’re lucky it’ll be a two birds one stone situation.”

Trying to laugh, I again find myself sinking deeper into thoughts of revenge. Followed always by the image of my poor dog, his sad face crusted with blood and pain. It seems impossible to live in a reality where someone so evil gets away scot-free. 

 But Annie doesn’t need to hear it, my jaw remains silently clenched, crushing filter. “Alright, we’ll go tonight if he’s up for it.”

“Sounds like a plan bro. Meet you at the arcade after, Otto insists we check out the new machine.”

“He’s still dragging you on dates?”

“C’mon, he knows it’s not gonna happen. We’re just hanging out as friends.”

The sky has shifted from muted pinks and oranges to a more consistent shade of blue. There are no clouds in the sky, and I wonder if my life really could be at stake here. If someone is willing to kill a dog just to humiliate me, who’s to say they won’t go farther? How do I know they’re not just waiting until I let my guard down?

“I hope we can help Miles. Even if it is in our own fucked up way,” I say eventually. Annie steals the joint from my fingers and opens her mouth to speak, but pauses. “Are you ever gonna tell him that you’re ga-”

Staring down with furious eyes I interrupt. “I don’t wanna talk about that. Don’t even say it.”

“Easy man, was just curious. Am I still the only person you’ve told?”

“Yep,” I sigh. “And I’m gonna keep it that way.”

Through the generations of living removed from real civilisation, Matlock Beach has grown well past cultish in its religion. Featuring two churches within three kilometers and dozens of families who’ll accept nothing but the word of their bible. Even Annie finding out was a fluke. If only I hadn’t been so drunk that night, if Annie didn’t have to walk me home.

“Not even your sister?”

I steal back the joint, inhale another puff. “No. Just drop it.”

***

When the clock strikes eight I’m out the door before my boss can say a word. Miles agreed to meet me after work, though it took some coercing to get him out of his room. It was strange actually, his answer was a definitive “no” until a sudden change of heart midday. 

On my way up to the door I spot him through the window. He holds a pencil in his right hand and a coffee in his left. French Vanilla Latte I’d suspect. He’s staring off into space, twirling the pencil in his fingers and mouthing the words to whatever music he’s listening to. I walk through the door where the smell of espresso warmly greets my nose. The Cafe is small, but it’s atmosphere can’t be beat anywhere in town. The seats are soft, the tables are always cleaned right away, and there’s a little fireplace in the center, selling the cozy feeling with it’s digital crackling of wood. It’s no surprise this is where Miles would work.

 Once he sees me on the way to his table, Miles takes off his earbuds and neatly places a small stack of white papers inside the sketchbook.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he says right off the bat. “When you reminded me of your dog this morning at school, it made me wonder: how do we know the things happening to us aren’t connected?”

I decide not to let him in on the conversation Annie and I had. “I’m listening,” I reply. 

 Miles continues, “I did some digging, found out Matlock Beach has an messy history compared to other settlements in the area. In the 1800s there were a series of disappearances, lots of kids, but lots of animals were found too, mutilated. Some even said their blood had gone completely black. There’s old stories of something infecting the forest and the lake.”

“You think some weirdo’s mimicking the old killings?”

“Maybe, but its beside the point. What are the odds of a place like this having two killers at once?”

“But Toby was meant to hurt me specifically. What would this person have against Mateo?”

“I don’t know. But two horrible deaths in the same month can’t be coincidence in a place like this. Can they?”

What Miles is saying makes sense, but his theory only brews more bad theories. Could Mateo have been my fault? If I did something that made someone snap does that mean I’m responsible his death? “You’d be surprised at how many lunatics live in this cult town… But yer probably right. That’s why you changed your mind about coming?”

“That’s right.” The brown’s of his eyes are dilated and his eyebrows show determination instead of fear now. Have I been looking at them for too long?

The expression disappears when his eyes refocus on the door behind me.

“Don’t look,” he whispers and lowers his head. “Maybe he won’t notice us.”

“Who?” I whisper.

Then a stomach twisting giggle. “Jesus Christ aren’t you adorable?” Aaron slides into my side of the booth, thick cheeks creased into a grin. 

Fuck.

“Room for a third?” He winks at Miles, expression draining into anxiety.

“Piss off,” I hiss.

“We’re busy,” Miles grumbles, frustrated but polite.

“Remember when you used to look into my eyes like that?” Aaron stretches his arms and plops his feet right next to my hands. They’re wrapped in tight skinny jeans and dusted with white powder. Doughnuts or cocaine? Either outcome fit. “I was only wondering if you had an update on that killer.” He takes a sip of Miles’s coffee and raises both brows at him. “Either one.”

Smacking both hands on the table I reply, “You’ve got no business in this. We got what we needed out of you, but if you’re askin’ for another round then be my guest.”

“You’d figure I should be the one pissed,” Aaron snaps back. “You should be begging for my forgiveness, Hawkins.” Miles’s face turns to worry as my fists clench by my sides. He knows how much I hate the last name.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell the day I ask for your forgiveness.”

“Good, cause you aren’t getting it.”

“Can we relax, please?” Miles interjects. “It’s been a rough few days.”

“What an excellent idea my lifelong pal.” Aaron’s tone and posture change like nothing happened. “Honestly, I’ve been bored. I wanna see how this is gonna play out, and I know you’re planning something exciting.”

“Like I said, none of your business,” I snarl.

“Well gee, sorry,” Aaron says. “Guess I’m not welcome here then, I just wanted to check in with my buddies.” He smirks maliciously. Aaron takes his legs off the table and stands, finishing off Miles’s coffee without a word of protest. “See you in class Miles, and good luck finding your murderer!” He waves him off without a glance at me.

“What a piece of shit!”

Miles reaches for the center of the table. “He’s just trying to get to you.”

“I know. I wish he didn’t make me so angry but he does. He’s been doin’ this shit since ninth grade. Probably the one responsible anyway, asshole came to taunt me about it I bet.”

Miles eyes his empty coffee cup with a tinge of disgust, tosses it in the garbage can behind. “If he’s involved, he could have come to see if his hint led us anywhere.”

“Probably made the whole thing up, then he came here just to mock me.” I turn to the window beside us, at my reflection in the glass.

“We don’t know that, though.”

“S’pose we’ll find out.”

“Speaking of, when’s Annie supposed to be here?”

“She said ten minutes fifteen ago. Wants to meet us at the arcade.”

The downtown arcade is only a few doors down from the cafe, a grimy building built into a an old garage. I may have some vague memories of visiting as a kid, but Ruby and I were so scared going by ourselves. These days it’s a building I usually forget, like the bank or post office. It’s a dark contrast to the bright cafe, but the kids feverishly smacking the controls don’t seem to mind.

Annie hasn’t noticed Miles and I in the entrance yet, far too occupied with losing. Otto stands in the booth next to her, hitting his third 50 pointer in a row, Annie bows her head in shame.

“Okay okay, one more game, I think I’m getting the hang of it,” she says. “How’re you so good at this already?”

“It’s just math, maybe we should get back to studying.”

Annie snorts, words oozing with sarcasm, “That so? If math is gonna solve everything how about you calculate why my mom is such a stuck up b- HEY JOEL, HEY MILES.” She waves fanatically

Otto’s eyes drift away as they always do when he’s flustered, I don’t know what was so embarrassing, but he seems to know that it’s time to go. I nod my head toward the exit when Annie asks us to wait outside.

The stainless steel table and chairs are cold against my skin under the purple twilight, but it isn’t long before Annie rolls out of the building on her skateboard. She kicks it into her hands and lights a smoke.

“Just be safe Annie.” Otto shoots me a hard glance while he says this.

“Yeah, I’m hanging out with our friends not snorting meth,” she jokes. When out of earshot she adds, “Never again.”

“I’ll see you guys later,” Otto waves us off before planting his hands in his pockets.

“You don’t want a ride home?” I offer, thumb gesturing at my truck. “Or a sweater maybe?”

“That’s okay,” he waves us off and starts towards home. 

“See ya later,” Miles waves before Otto disappears into the dark.

***

Some part of me waited for Miles to change his mind, but its more than a relief that he hasn’t. Maybe we can finally get his mind off his brother for a minute. I know for a fact that Aaron showing up didn’t help, and I can only hope he isn’t losing it like I would in his place. He sits in the back seat, anxiously picking his fingers. On my right Annie scans the place, finding exits where possible, searching for blind spots from windows and cameras. Planning is Annie’s specialty, while I work best thinking on my toes. We brought masks and steakout supplies if we need to wait out a manager. This includes a backpack full of snacks, weed, flashlights, crowbar, and a pair of binoculars. Just the essentials.

Annie flicks her cigarette out the window, “You boys ready for a break-in if needed?”

“I dunno,” Miles shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe you guys should do that part without me.”

“Relax,” Annie turns in her seat to face him with a comforting smile. “You think we were perfect our first go around? Of course not, but we had each others backs, and that’s all you really need.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I say. “Let’s see if we can go the safe route first.”

“Just want the newbie to be prepared.”

“Let’s just go,” I open the door.

We walk to the door of the place. It’s far dumpier than even the restaurants and shops in downtown Matlock. Rumour has it the place has been going bankrupt for years, not many tourists on the outskirts I suppose. Opening the door, a familiar voice greets me.

“Sup Hawkins, been a while.”

Staring me in the face is Wendy Anson, the girl I sent to juvie and our prime suspect. She’s smiling and picking the chicken wings from her teeth.

“Uh, hey Wendy. Long time no see.”

“I’ll say, jail was a blast.”

Annie looks at me nervously. It’s unclear whether this is meant as a genuine joke or not. There’s almost no way she could tie me to her bust. The only person I ever told at the time was Annie, and there’s no way she’d rat me out. My report to the cops was anonymous, and no one saw me enter or leave the house, I went through great measures to make sure of that.

“Anyways, what’re y’all ordering?” She picks up a notepad and pen, glancing up at us from under her black hat with those evil brown eyes. A fake gold chain circles her neck, though you know she’ll brag to everyone that it’s real.

“Glad to see you got out okay,” I say casually. 

“Right, I’m sure you were counting the days. Now could ya hurry up? Last call is in four minutes.”

Annie steps past me and puts her hands on the table. “Nice to see you and all, we’re not here for food. Someone’s been fucking with Joel and you might have caught whoever it was on that security camera you have in the back, we wanted to know if you’d let us take a look.”

“We just got that thing to catch whatever was banging around out back. Raccoons, by the way, who’d’ve guessed,” She rolls her eyes.

“Could we just take a look anyways?” I ask. “It’ll only take a second.”

“Hang on a minute,” Wendy sighs. She exits down a hallway to her right. A door creaks open and a voice speaks. It’s too far and the kitchen is too noisy to make out what they’re saying, but when Wendy appears back at the counter she says “Afraid I can’t help.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Seems the manager hates your guts Hawkins, best of luck to you though.”

“Could’ya please just try again? For a friend?”

Wendy snorts, “My hands are tied, I’d keep asking but I’m getting outta here. Got some real business to get to. If you’re interested, you know where to find me.” 

Fists clench at my side, jaw tense, Annie glares at me. Just as I open my mouth to give wendy a piece of my mind Annie drags me outside by the hem of my shirt. “Hey!” I object.

“Not worth it bro, let’s go.” 

“Catch ya later,” Wendy calls as I’m dragged away like a child misbehaving in the mall.

I yank her hand away, “Was that necessary? God.”

“Apparently. We can’t rob the place if you assault their staff.”

“Why do you just assume I’m going to assault her?”

“Because that’s usually how you deal with things,” she replies.

Miles covers his mouth, suppressing that giggle he does when he wants to laugh but knows he shouldn’t. A smile creeps at my lips but I go along with it.

“Real funny huh? How’d you like it if I dragged you around like a little kid?”

“We’d all love to see that but we need to go back to the car, now.” Annie interrupts. “If we’re seen hanging around this place we’ll look even more suspicious.”

When we all hop back in my car Miles speaks, “Well that’s it right?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We can’t break in there, she’ll know it was us for sure.”

He has a point. If we go break in there tonight there’s no doubt Wendy will know it was us, with anyone else this would be a serious issue.

“We’re gonna be just fine.”

Annie props her elbow on my shoulder from the back seat, intrigued. “Oh?” A beat. “Ooooh.”

I shift into reverse and leave the parking lot, driving down the gravel road towards town but making a right through the grassy ditch into a field. 

“Long story short ninth grade was wild. Wendy hates rats. Remember when Jake called in a bomb threat to ditch an exam?” 

“Oh I remember,” Annie replies. “Lua ratted and got him expelled.”

“And what did the rat-hater Wendy Anson do? Set their car on fire. Ratting is no joke to her.”

“And you still got her arrested?” Miles asks.

“For being a money hungry psycho bitch, yeah.”

I take the long route to the train tunnel, all the way to the end of the field slightly into the forest, hidden just in case things go south.

“So,” Miles starts. “Your plan is to once again rat on the one who will kill you for ratting?”

“Not at all. I’m long past playing tattletale.” 

“So what are you going to do then?” He asks.

“I’m gonna make sure she never hurts anyone again. I’m going to do somethin’ about it. Are you?” 

“Well what exactly are you planning on doing about it?” Miles asks.

“I’m gonna make this asshole pay for it.”

“By hurting them? How will that fix anything?”

“Don’t need it to fix anything.”

“So what does that mean? Do you want to kill someone they love? You wanna beat them to a pulp like Aaron? Cause that worked so well?”

“God, I’m not going to fucking kill anyone! Why does everyone have to assume-?” I realize too late what this argument does to me. I wipe my eyes and unbuckle my seatbelt. “You don’t need to come with me.”

The night sky is brightly illuminated by the near full moon, and the wind is light. The space beside the tunnel is an area of tall unkempt grass stretching across the field to the wooded horizon. It rises up to my waist, but almost covers my body when I sit against the rocky wall. The night’s peaceful, it was nights like these I’d sometimes spend with my dog. Let him run around in the grass and throw stuff for him to chase. Sometimes he’d come back with a mouse or bird he killed. Others were disgusted, but I knew he just wanted to help me in his own way.

Miles arrives shortly, he sits close and tucks his knees into his chest. I look at his face in the moonlight, his curly brown hair sways slightly in the wind, and his rounded features cast hazy shadows in his face. He looks away from me and starts plucks grass to twirl around his finger. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’d never kill anyone.”

“Sorry I yelled,” I say. “People have a tendency to assume the worst in me. But… there’s a reason for that.”

“I understand why you’re angry, I’m angry too. This person will take responsibility for what they’ve done.” Miles’s eyes meet mine. “Do you want to tell me about him?”

“Before you an’ Annie I had no one. He was just a dog but he was someone, and…” I trail off. Opening up isn’t something I’m used to, and it feels really wrong for some reason. School counselors and self-help posters at school say talking about it should feel good. On the rare occasion I get to it, something just sinks into the bottom of my stomach, I only want to curl up into a ball and never speak again. It was easier venting to a dog because I could talk and talk and he’d never be burdened by my problems. “I miss him. And I can’t stand the thought of the piece of crap who did it walking around without a care. Makes my damn blood boil.”

“You have every right to be angry, but hurting them isn’t going to solve anything.”

“I have to do something.”

Annie tosses black fabric in my face before I even notice her approach. “And we will,” she says. “We’re gonna try and find them tonight, then give ‘em to the piggies.” She lobs the hockey mask at Miles’s but it ends up hitting him in the face. “And we’re going to do it without getting caught in the first place.” I unfold the fabric and find my bandana, I can’t help but smile.

“Thanks Annie.”

“No amount of violence will stop me from helping you.”

I laugh and look at Miles. “You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to, we get it.”

Miles’s replies without hesitation. “Maybe there’s a risk, but there’s a good shot this person is involved with Mateo somehow. I’m coming.”

“Fuck yeah!” Annie exclaims, pulling us both off the ground into a tight hug. The comforting smell of orange shampoo fills my nose, and the negative feelings dissolve for a fleeting moment.