Rain bucketed down on the streets and gardens below, lightening and thunder rumbled overhead as the tv in the Rogers home flickered.
"The remains of the Carruthers residence is still being searched, due to the deaths of James and Nancy Carruther.Their foster daughter, Victoria Davidson, is still missing, more tonight at 9" the report spoke sternly as another flash of lightening made the screen flicker.

Those poor Carruthers.
Whatever happened to them, anyways?
That was very bizarre.

Through the flashes of lightning, one could faintly make out a being with an umbrella across the street from the Rogers house, the being had a hood over their head and they were carrying a backpack.
Their black hooded jacket was soaking wet from the rain, despite the umbrella being open, the jacket's hem and the lower parts of their black trousers whipping about in the furious wind.

In the blink of an eye, the person was across the street, their pale knuckles even paler as they clung to their umbrella, rain pattering on their black boots.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Connie Rogers, the soft-spoken and gentle mother of Toby Rogers, was doing the dishes, when she faintly heard her son get up.
The woman looked up at the ceiling above her in instinct, trying to ignore her husband's slurs and belching as he slugged down some more grog during the flickering news reports.
She was so involved in her own tasks when she didn't even hear her son come downstairs and stand in the kitchen doorway.

Finally noticing Toby, she gave a soft motherly smile.

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling? Can I get you anything?" she asked softly, Toby's father passed out on the soft green fabric couch.
She cast a light, worried frown in the direction of the man, and then looked back at Toby, seeing her son's neck crack and jerk lightly.
His ticks and sparse, interspersed twitches and movements were caused by her son's tourettes syndrome, that fact alone being one of the main reasons for so much torment his former fellow students had put him through.

Right before he was homeschooled....and right before the tragic car crash that caused him to lose his older sister, Lyra.
She had her father's confidence, but her mother's sweet mannerisms, caring for Toby when their parents couldn't, before their car was wrecked and her life was lost.
Though it had been almost three weeks since the death of her daughter, and the burial, it still stung like a nettle's exterior on exposed skin.

Connie pushed the thought away as best as she could, swallowing her tears silently as she caught sight of Toby looking into the living room, seeing the shadowy profile of his dad's face.
The man's head was tilted back, body sloppily lolloping on the couch as if he was nothing more than a discarded suit of armour.
The man certainly caused enough fights and violence to qualify as one, Toby supposed.
The drunkard didn't wake up, even though the reports still blared loudly on the screen, the mere sound causing Toby to twitch a bit more, curling and uncurling his fingers in response to the spoken words on the electronic device.

"You heard the report too, huh?" Connie hummed, a sad expression on her face, though she still wore a ghostly smile in an attempt to comfort both Toby and herself.
Toby didn't respond, a loud clap of thunder booming outside.

"Poor girl, I hope they find her. Nobody should have to go through the death of a loved one" the brunette continued, taking a crisp blue tea-towel from one of the drawers under the counter, folding it lengthways and putting it over her shoulder.
Again, Toby made no response, apart from a couple of twitches, still angling to listen to the television's words.

Connie sighed silently to herself, continuing with washing the dishes, only for her son to turn around and reach for a few remaining pieces of the cutlery left on the table.
The metal was cold against his skin, but not painfully freezing.
Then again, what was it to him? he couldn't feel pain anyway, so why should he be worried about that?

"Oh! thank you, Toby" Connie replied, carrying the plates over to the sink to rinse and wash them, Toby putting the cutlery in the sink.
He blinked a few times, hand twitching as he placed them into the water, before walking away, Connie wiping her hands on the tea towel she had resting on her shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another loud crash of thunder jolted the drunkard awake for a second or two before he passed out again, and Connie looked back outside after putting away the broom she had in her hands, seeing something in front of the house.
She couldn't exactly make out who it was, but she could see a blurry shadow moving outside thanks to the frosted double-glazed glass on the front door.

She opened the door, putting her light green hooded jacket around her with the hood over her head, her black flats making the puddles she stepped in splash lightly.
"Hello?" she called out in a concerned but audible tone, as if to scare off an intruder, hearing something by the front of the house.

"Hello, who's there?" she asked again, seeing someone kneeling down on the sidewalk outside, the rain pelting down on her back felt like tiny ice-cold bullets.
Walking towards the figure, she gasped softly in surprise at what she had found, the man in the house not even waking as the door slammed audibly, Toby looking up from his seat by the small study's window.

"M-Mom?" he called out, neck cracking a little bit, the brown-eyed teen getting to his feet uneasily and creeping silently to the door.
Interspersed with the own foul whisperings of his own mind -"intruder", "someone new", "who is it? who is it?" just to name a few of the phrases- his mother's gentle voice cut through the sounds.

"Come in, you poor thing. You're completely soaked through. Aw, and you're shivering as well, bless your heart. Hold on, now, I'll get my son in here" she reassured the shadowy-looking being.

He could hear the sound of fabric shifting and water dripping onto the linoleum, as Connie looked up to see Toby peeking from the doorway.

"Toby? Be a dear and get some warm towels and a blanket from upstairs, would you? Looks like this sweetheart could use our help" Connie informed him.
With a twitch, Toby found himself scaling the stairs as fast as he could, coming back with a soft looking red blanket, and a small armful of towels kept in place between his torso and elbow.
Upon returning, he stood at the bottom of the stairs by the door, managing to get a closer look at the silent visitor.

It was a young teenage girl, no older than 14 or 15, with raven black hair that was dripping wet with rainwater, much like her leather coat and closed umbrella that were hung up together.
She had on a black shirt with matching trousers, and black boots that were shiny with water and old polish.
Her skin was pale like a ghost, her eyes ringed with sleepless circles as if she had been awake for days -if not weeks- on end. Nonetheless, she was quite beautiful.
She was tall for a girl, about 5'7, though his mother was about a few inches taller thanks to the heels she was wearing.

He felt a number of things in that moment in time.
Doubtful suspicion, wary distrust, but he also felt something else.
Something far warmer than the other emotions he was experiencing.

He felt the need to protect and defend her.
From what, he didn't know, but it made him seem almost....brotherly.
Something he hadn't felt since Lyra died.
Before then, he was the youngest, being looked after.

Now he had the chance to return the favour, even to a scared-looking newcomer.

Something was off about her, he could feel it, but he could also sense her unsure gaze on him.

Maybe, he thought, maybe another misfit in the family won't make his lonely life as miserable as it had been.