6:42 AM
Mason's House, Crescent Hills

Damp current pushed past them as they ran for what felt like an eternity. Floyd had broken out in a sweat. Small drops of it clanked on the pavement, staining it like a dark entity.

Blue and red lights glowed in the vicinity, police cars lined up outlying the mournful gloomy house.

Lane raced to the front of the house, the police tape not allowing her to go any further. Even from there, she could still hear the cries and pleas of Ms. Willow, Mason's mom, begging the police officers to do something, anything.

It hurt her to see people in such pain. The father wiped his tears, embracing his wife in a tender hug, whispering soft comforting words to her.

At a moment where despair dwelt, there was nothing Lane could have done to prevent this tragedy. Her vision was vague and dim, staring into the house twinkling a variety of colors.

Something had caught her eye, a bathroom window.

Its old rusted metal frame was deteriorating. But that's not what she detected, it was the used-to-be-cleaned glass now tainted a subtle red. Pecks of pinkish wet substance attached themself to the glass, making it look filthy.

Easton shivered, not knowing if it was from the cold or the sight he had to take in.

"What the hell happened here?" It was barely above a whisper. He was scared. Scared that something might hear him. That it'll come after him next.

Fear consumed them, four teenagers were the ones responsible for their friend's death.
The police didn't think of that. In their perspective, Mason's death was unexplainable and gruesome. But no, Ms. Willow couldn't have agreed to that answer.

"You! You did this!" Ms. Willow shouted, enraged and furious. Her eyes twitched, hands trembling as she pointed at them. A rage only a mother could understand occupied her beliefs.

"You were the one sneaking him out of the house! And you killed him." She shrieked and trashed. Tears rolled down her face spilling down to the ground.

One of the police officers, a woman who appears to be in her mid-twenties, got a hold of Ms. Willow. She was still shouting and pointing at the kids while being taken back.

"Ma'am with all due respect, none of these kids could have caused his death."

Ms. Willow stopped resisting. Her expression flickered.
Sad.
Calm.
Anger.

"Your son exploded, Ms. Willow."