|DROP THE G∆ME|

We sat in the tall grass near the dock for maybe an hour, just staring at it.

I couldn't form thoughts, let alone any words. It was nearly too dark to see now, but the blade still held a gleam of moonlight that stared back at me.

Larson was being patient with me, but I knew he was probably bored out of his mind. I couldn't move though; I'm stuck here.

I'm sitting right where my story came to an end; obviously a violent end. Life as I knew it stopped here. Do you know how mind boggling that is? There's nothing I can do now. How do I move on from this? I'll never know what happened to me. I'm lost; literally and emotionally.

Those thoughts were cut short by a sudden howl that echoed through the woods. It felt as if the rest of my blood drained from my body and poured out into the dirt.

My body struggled to comprehend the severity of the situation; my muscles simply didn't care about the pending threat that sought us out.

"Harley!" Larson screamed. "Harley, get up! "

His arms scooped under me, pulling me to my feet. I still couldn't escape my daze.

"Harley, we have to get in the lake!" He pulled me towards the boat.

"Wait!" I yelled, snapping back into reality. "It can probably swim. I'll take us somewhere safe."

My thoughts were in overdrive, so I took us to the first place I thought of.

Then, it was quiet, and dark. Larson was still huddled close to me, breathing rapidly. We now stood in a hallway in my old school. "It's okay, we're safe now." I reassured him.

He stared at me with a strange look on his face. "No we're not, Josiah can be here just as easily." He turned and rushed down the hall.

"What do you mean?" I asked, running after him.

"You met him here, right? So he can come here." He still walked quickly down the hall, looking in the window of every door he passed.

"We don't know if he has anything to do with this." I said. Although, I agree, Josiah is strange. Something is off about him. I don't really trust him myself, but he hasn't hurt me; not yet anyway.

He stopped when we reached the intersection of hallways.

I suddenly remembered my memorial, and that I hadn't shown it to Larson yet.

My eyes searched over the floor and walls, but it wasn't anywhere. Confusion hit me at first, then reality. "They took it down." I said quietly to myself.

"Took what down?" Larson asked.

"My memorial...it was here a while ago.."

He slumped to the floor with his back against the wall. "You're lucky you even got one."

I decided to ignore his comment. "Why would they take it down so soon? They don't even have my body yet..."

"That's how humans are. When someone dies, they take a few moments out of their time to mourn or whatever, then they move on. Human life goes on without us Harley, you may as well accept it."

I wasn't ready to accept it though. Not at all. "I'm still human; well the spirit of one." I said, again mostly to myself.

"No you're not, you're a ghost, nothing, at least not to them. They don't even care enough to find out what happened to you." He looked into my eyes for a few seconds before continuing. "I do though. I care about you Harley, and me and you are going to solve your murder together." His hand gripped mine tightly.

Larson had the ability to hit me with the upsetting truth, and then do the exact thing I needed to keep me from falling apart. I think I just need him in general. He makes me laugh, and he keeps me "living". I need that.

I laid my head on his shoulder, "Don't leave me Larson.."

"I won't until you ask me to."

"Why would I ask you to?" I asked, lifting my head.

"Everyone eventually gets tired of me." He said. His eyes were in his memories.

"Tell me more." I said, pulling myself closer to him.

His eyebrows did their scrunchy thing. "Tell you more of what?" He asked.

"Anything. I just want to know more about you."

His eyes poured over me; deciding if he wanted to tell me more or not. Then, he squeezed them shut and we were in a new place; one that I didn't recognize.

It was a neighborhood, but not like the one I lived in. It was more like a trailer park, but even that was an over statement.

I was speechless as Larson led me down the dirt path that acted as a street. He didn't speak until we stopped in front of an actual house. It may have been the only one in the entire neighborhood. It was small, but it appeared to have two floors.

"This is where I grew up." Larson said finally. His face pointed toward the ground, and all the loose locks of black hair fell forward; shielding his eyes.

"Can we go look inside?" I asked carefully. I know how touchy Larson is about his past.

His heavy eyes looked up to me. "Sure."

The front door was painted red, though it was in serious need of a touch up. The rest of the house was a dirty white color. It probably was a nice house in it's day.

Larson took my hand and we entered the house together.

The first thing I noticed on the other side was how out of date everything was. It was like stepping into the 90's, maybe even late 80's. The television was inside of a small wooden box that sat on the floor. The couch and chairs were all covered in a patterned cloth, and the carpet was dark brown and fluffy.

"It's...nice." I finally said, hoping to end the awkward silence that had risen between us.

"It's nothing compared to your house." Larson said quietly.

"I didn't say that..." I said.

"But you were thinking it." He shoved his hands into his pockets, not giving me a chance to respond. "Shall we take a tour?" He asked.

"Yes we shall." I said.

"Well, this is obviously the living room." He said, stretching out his arms to present it, though not with as much enthusiasm as he had at the court house.

Then, he walked through an opening in the wall. I followed him into the dark kitchen. To the far right of the wooden cabinets was a staircase. He noticed me studying the stairs.

"That leads to my old room." He answered my unspoken question. "There isn't anything up there now."

He looked around the kitchen with a look of concentration on his face. "Nothing's changed, I guess no one moved in after my family lived here."

"Oh, you didn't live here when you died?" I asked.

"No, I left after the...accident." His words trailed off into almost a whisper.

"Accident?" I asked, matching the same volume he used, though I have no idea why.

He released a lung full of air. "My dad killed my mom."

I gasped before I could stop myself, but he didn't seem phased by it.

"Right here in the kitchen actually." He crouched down to the floor and I suddenly noticed a large stain beneath his feet.

"What-" I started to ask another question, but I'm sure it would have been one he didn't want to answer.

"No one knows why he did it, he was just crazy I guess." Apparently he didn't mind answering it after all.

"I'm sorry Larson...that you had to go through that.."

"I was six, I think, when it happened. I don't remember much else about this place, that's the only memory I have here."

I didn't know what to say next, so I watched him study the floor quietly.

He stood to his feet after a moment. "We should go visit my foster home next." He said.

"Yeah, okay.." I said. I could hear the shake in my voice.

His eyes locked on mine, "You said you wanted to know more about me Harley.."

"I know I did, and I do. Let's go." I gave him an encouraging smile and grabbed his hand.