Sinister

Chapter Two

Leighton woke up gasping. The moment her eyes opened, her heart jammed its way into her throat and she struggled to swallow it down, to return it to its proper place. She looked down at herself, afraid to find that she was wearing a rumpled, rain beaten cocktail dress. The same dress she had worn from the night before.

Leighton sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, dreading the moment her toes came into contact with the cold floor. She cringed as she left the warmth and security of her bed and made her way to the bathroom, then to her closet to change clothes.

As she groomed herself to a manageable state the same question pounded in her mind. What happened last night? She checked her mother's room to find it empty and then slunk to the kitchen, running the tap and holding a glass underneath it as she struggled to remember what it was that she had done the night before.

It came in flashes.

Prom. Cocktail dress. Wobbly shoes. Fingernails. Embarrassment. Fruit punch. Bethany. Yellow. College. Alone. Rain. The walk home. Laughter. Forest. Touch. Dark.

Leighton frowned, not sure what she was missing. The back of her skull itched in a peculiar way that she couldn't describe. Her stomach flipped as a feeling of unease spread through her entire body, raising the fine hairs on her arms.

She looked behind her and frowned as she spotted her mother's high heels sitting in the front hallway. They were lined up perfectly, placed side by side and facing the same direction. Leighton stared at them intently as she took another swig of water, had she put them there?

Leighton looked through the window and immediately felt the glass slip from her fingers and crash to the ground, bringing attention to the stinging cuts on the soles of her feet and ankles. The same as before, it came in flashes.

The rain. The cold. The wind. The lights. Flickers. The pop. The shattering of glass. Stepping on shards. Blood. Jack Norton. Gone. Silver. Sinister. Light. Frost. Frost in June? Gone. Memories. Touch.

She blinked and gasped, grabbing the sides of the sink as she hunched over and stared out the window across the street. An ambulance and police car were parked outside of the Norton's house. Jack wasn't coming home.

Suddenly Leighton was retching. She leaned over and threw up what was in her stomach, vomit and blonde hair mixed together in her vision as she was sick. When she was done she ran the tap and pulled her hair back, wiping her face on a towel and stumbling towards her front door.

She stopped at the curb, staring at the house across the street from hers. The paramedics hovered near the ambulance as the police spoke with the Nortons in the front hall. Leighton guessed they came as a precaution, in case a family member fainted and required medical confirmation of their son's death.

Leighton looked to her left and noticed that her neighbors were on their lawn too, staring at the Norton's house in the same way she was. Forcing herself to cross the street, Leighton pushed towards the Norton's house, hoping to help in some way.

She froze in the middle of the street. Was she guilty of something? Did she need to confess to the police? Had she witnessed a murder or was her mind tricking her?

"Ma'am?" Leighton looked up to see a paramedic in front of her. Spooked, she jumped backwards. The man wore a kind smile and reached his hand out to her, in the same manner the figure from the previous night had. "Are you alright?"

"Is he dead?" she asked, her voice a mumble.

The paramedic nodded, expression grim. "A hiker found him this morning."

Her heart thudded painfully. "Was he... was he murdered?"

The paramedic blinked. "No, he died of a blood clot. It was a condition he sustained after injuring his leg from lacrosse, it was an unforeseen accident." Leighton couldn't make sense of his words. Jack's leg hadn't been injured, he had been walking fine.

Leighton licked her lips. "No, he was murdered."

The paramedic looked over his shoulder before shuffling uncomfortably. "Ma'am? Are you alright? I could check you out in the back of the truck if you wanted and―"

Her hands started to shake. "No, I'm fine. Jack is what is important. Are you sure he wasn't murdered?"

"It was a blood clot," the paramedic said confidently, "the signs were there. It travelled to his brain and obstructed the blood flow to the critical functioning areas. The alcohol in his system didn't help the situation either. It's a damn shame, not a murder."

Leighton placed a hand over her face and tried to stop her entire body from shaking. "Ma'am are you sure you're alright? I don't mind looking at―" A scream cut off the paramedic and drew everyone's attention to the front door of the Norton's.

Mrs. Norton had collapsed in her front foyer and was making a horrible, broken sound as she sobbed. A police officer pushed open the front screen and motioned for the paramedic to join him.

Forgetting about Leighton, the paramedic rushed to the door as the police officers left the house, their faces grim. Following close behind them was a tall man, dressed in a grey t-shirt and jeans. His attire made it hard for Leighton to believe that he was comfortable in the late June heat.

It wasn't until the police officers parted that she could get a good look at the figure and when she did her heart stilled. Flashes of memories obstructed her vision. Jack being tackled. The figure hovering over him. The silver light. The cry of pain. He noticed her, stalked towards her. Fear. Touch. Darkness.

Leighton began to shake all over as she stared at the man, sure that was who she had seen last night. He was tall, around six foot three and broad shouldered. But what really confirmed it in Leighton's mind were the markings that covered his skin, the ones that caught the sunlight and stuck out in her memory.

She raised her eyes to his and swallowed hard. He was staring at her with cold grey eyes and an expression that warned her to be silent. His hair was dark and cropped short, his face was smooth and his skin a milky pale despite the summer's sun.

Without thinking she ghosted forward.

"Can I help you?" the police officer asked. He had a familiar face. One that Leighton knew well for whatever reason. She felt as though she had spent a long time with this man but she couldn't remember why or when. She squinted at his nametag: McGuinty. Familiar in a blank way.

"Who's that?" Leighton demanded, eyes on the man who stood no more than three feet away. McGuinty was taken aback by the bluntness of her question.

"He's the hiker who found the boy this morning," McGuinty explained. "What's this about, Leighton?" She blinked and refocused her gaze on the officer, he knew her as well. Knew her well enough to be on a first name basis.

"Who is he?" Leighton pressed, unrelenting.

The man surprised her by speaking up. "I'm Tate, I'm new to the town." Leighton flinched involuntarily as his voice came back to her.

Relax.

"You..." she trailed off, not knowing what she wanted to say. She wasn't sure how to proceed. She wasn't sure if he was guilty of Jack's murder or the villain in her dreams.

Her eyes traveled to his arm, specifically to the crook of his elbow. Sure enough a tiny mark was present on his skin. An oval with two diagonal lines through it. Leighton lifted her arm as if to touch the mark but one wayward look from McGuinty made her still.

"Tate found the boy and reported it early on this morning," McGuinty explained to Leighton, still eyeing her. "I know it's hard for you to get used to strangers but he's a good person, a helpful one."

She looked up at the policemen and frowned. "What do you mean?"

He looked awkward, "after what happened to you... I thought you had troubles... you know... connecting to others."

Leighton frowned deeper as her confusion escalated. Nothing had happened to her before last night. She had never had troubles connecting to people, she had friends, lots of them, didn't she?

Further thinking told her no, she didn't. She wasn't friends with Bethany anymore but couldn't recall why not. McGuinty continued to stare at her with an obvious look of pity and worry. Why would he be worried? Why would he care?

Leighton looked up sharply, trying to catch Tate's eye but failed. He was deliberately ignoring her gaze. He looked guilty. She was missing something but she couldn't discern what it was.

"What happened to me?" she repeated dumbly, "What are you―"

"I think I better be going," Tate suggested to the policeman, hands coming to rest low on his hips. "I've had a long morning and I'd like to get back to my home."

The policeman nodded absently, shooting Leighton an odd glance before turning and ushering Tate into the squad car. She watched dumbfounded as they drove away. Leighton left the Norton's driveway then, returning to her house, locking the door and shutting the blinds to provide herself with some sort of security.

When her nerves had settled she grabbed a dust pan and brush and cleaned up the glass on the floor before mopping up the water that covered the kitchen. Leighton pulled out two slices of bread before reaching for the peanut butter. In the process, she knocked over two bottles of pills.

Leighton bent over and picked them up, sighing as the pills rattled in the plastic container. She read the label and frowned: CONNORS, LEIGHTON. Clearly the pills belonged to her but for whatever reason she had no recollection of them. It was the next word that made her freeze: PROZAC.

Anti-depressants.

They belonged to her but she had no idea why. The sound of the front lock made her jump and almost drop the pills for a second time. Leighton quickly stashed them back behind the peanut butter and smoothed her hair down before her mother, Karen, entered the house.

"Leighton?"

"Kitchen!" she called back, voice wobbly. Leighton bit her fingernails as she waited for her mother to remove her shoes and put away her things before joining her in the kitchen. Leighton's mother came around the corner and smiled widely, the same way she did every time she spent the night with her boyfriend, Tom.

Karen's hair was blonde like her daughter's, though hers was starting to grey at the top and seemed limp in comparison. Though they both had blue eyes, Karen's were as blue as the ocean and her smile as lively as the waves that rolled on the beach. That was where they differed, Karen was full of life, full of optimism. Leighton wasn't.

Karen strode foreword and kissed Leighton's head before opening the fridge. "What's going on across the street? Did Barb have another panic attack over the rabbits in her back garden?" Her mother laughed a little which made Leighton cringe as the sight of Jack's body came back to her.

"Her son died," Leighton told her quietly, "last night."

Karen froze, hand clutched around an apple. She turned to face her daughter slowly, her face an emotionless mask. "What?"

Leighton pressed her nails into the palms of her hands. "Jack is dead. He was... he died of a blood clot or... something blocked the blood vessels in his brain."

Karen placed the apple on the counter slowly and gripped the sides of the sink, much like Leighton had an hour before. "I can't believe... you two used to play for hours together―I have to do something," she declared. Her eyes passed over the apple. "I'll make a pie or―" She leaned over and swore under her breath.

"I don't think they need pie, mom," Leighton said quietly.

Her mother turned to face her, eyes bubbling with tears. "Are you okay, sweetheart? I mean you know what Dr. Rook said about these sorts of things." Leighton blinked. Dr. Rook was another familiar name that held no bearing in her mind.

Dr. Rook. McGuinty.

Despite herself, Leighton began to tremor. "I don't think he died of natural causes, mom." Leighton could already foresee her mother's reaction but she had to share her theory with someone.

Karen's eyes showed her confusion plainly. "What are you talking about?"

"I think he was murdered―"

"I don't want to hear it, Leighton," Karen said sharply, throwing up a hand and a mental block. "If you were told it was a blood clot then that was what it was. No one mistakes a murder for a health problem."

"But I―"

"No," Karen said firmly, running her hands over her hair. "No. I'm going to bake a pie. Maybe you should lay down." Leave me alone was the proper translation. Leighton's heart thumped in her chest, pumping that familiar feeling of loneliness through her limbs. She wondered if Prozac was prescribed to chronically lonely teenagers.

"I put your dress in the closet," Leighton told her before turning away. She heard her mother sigh as she realised she forgot to ask Leighton about prom. It didn't matter. Leighton couldn't remember half of the night anyway.

Leighton tugged at her sweater uncomfortably as her seatbelt dug into her shoulder. There was nothing she hated more than sitting in the crammed backseat of her mother's car. Unfortunately, Tom occupied the passenger's seat as the three made their way to Jack Norton's funeral.

"I don't want to hear any of your theories while we're there, understand Leighton?"

Leighton bit her nail. "Yes." Her mother made eye contact with her through the rear-view mirror and smiled compassionately. She did this often and Leighton couldn't understand why. She could only guess that the passing of another child Leighton's age ignited a feeling of protectiveness in her.

They arrived at the church on time and quickly left the car behind to join the crowd proceeding to the viewing room. Leighton clenched her teeth together as the overwhelming smell of perfume and flowers hit her nose and flipped her stomach.

There was something metallic to the smell of death, the smell of grief. The stench made Leighton edgy, like she was ready to bolt or cry at a moment's notice. Leighton blew out a long breath and tried to compose herself as she gazed at pictures of Jack taped up on the wall. Majority of them were of him playing lacrosse. She spotted one of the two of them playing in her backyard when they were in the first grade.

"These things make me jumpy. I don't know about you, kid." Naturally, Leighton jumped.

Leighton turned to smile at Tom. She genuinely like her mother's boyfriend. He was balding slightly and a little pudgy in the middle but his cheeks were always round with a smile and his eyes were kind.

"I'm not sure how I feel about them," she said objectively.

Tom smiled, "Just know that me and your mom are here for you if you need help... we know that the last funeral you were at didn't go over well." He smiled worriedly and then turned and left, leaving Leighton puzzled for the umpteenth time since Jack Norton's death a few days prior.

The last funeral she had been to was ten years ago and she had been eight. Her grandfather had died of cancer but she hadn't met him until she was looking at him in his casket.

Leighton wasn't sure how she felt about funerals but she was damn sure she didn't like the viewings that preceded them. Eventually, Leighton could no longer put off seeing Jack Norton's body. The crowd gradually seemed to push her towards the casket, whether or not she was up for seeing her dead classmate.

Her body went rigid at the initial shock of seeing him there. They had dressed him in a nice suit and smoothed back his fair hair in an orderly way she had never seen him style it when he was alive. His eyes were closed and his mouth turned into a small smile that sent shivers up her spine.

She stared at his face, grinding her teeth together as she remembered the sound of his laugh bouncing off the trees. For a moment she was back in the forest. She could feel the wet pavement underneath the soles of her feet, taste the lingering fruit punch on her tongue, feel the cold rain on her skin.

Leighton sucked in a breath as the lights started to flicker and she yelled out for Jack as the wind picked up and drowned out the sound of her voice. Leighton felt her heart pick up as a figure tackled Jack to the ground, hovered over him, took the light from him. That silver light that crept over the ground like fog and left frost in its wake.

"Leighton."

She snapped her attention to her mother who was holding her arm firmly. Karen stared at Leighton intently, blue eyes searching her daughter's face for something. "What?"

"I think you should go and get some air," her mother suggested tightly.

Leighton frowned and looked back at the dead boy. Moments later she was back in the forest, feet stepping on broken glass. It took a firm squeeze from her mother to bring her back to reality.

"Please sweetheart, go before the ceremony starts." Leighton took one last fleeting look at her mother before nodding and heading for the exit.

As soon as she was outside the weight lifted off of her chest and she could breathe again. She revelled in the fresh air, thankful she could no longer smell the flowers that were beginning to wilt in the heat.

Leighton adjusted her skirt and tugged at her sweater, trying to smooth over her appearance before she re-entered the building. As she was in the process of raking her fingers through her hair a voice stopped her heart.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" Leighton looked up and froze. Tate was leaning against the outside of the building, hands folded behind his back. "About Ja―"

"Don't say his name," Leighton blurted, heat travelled from her cheeks down her neck.

Tate frowned, looking completely comfortable in his black shirt and tie. "I feel sorry for him." Leighton's head span. How could he be here? she thought.

Leighton's tongue was like sandpaper. "You should."

Tate raised an eyebrow, "I should?"

"You killed him."

Silence.

"No," Tate said slowly, "the blood clot killed him. I found him." His voice was like silk. Every time he spoke Leighton felt the strong urge to nod, to agree with whatever came out of his mouth.

Leighton grounded herself and shook her head stubbornly. "That's not true. I was there. In the woods, last week. I was walking home and I bumped into Jack and then the storm got bad and you―you did something."

"I didn't walk that trail until the morning," Tate told her calmly, grey eyes sharp.

Leighton wouldn't back down. "You leaned over him and... and that silver light seeped out of him." She cringed, knowing how crazy she sounded. The passive look on Tate's face did nothing to reassure her either. He wasn't wearing the expression of someone who was just found guilty of murder.

"I didn't kill Jack Norton," Tate repeated.

"Yes you―"

"I helped him."