Lost Boy

I used to hate this day. I’d want to go to sleep and wake up when the ache passed, which was never. But today is different. Today, I have Jack.

Pulling open the car door, I sit in the luxury leather, a complete contrast to Charlotte’s rust bucket. Jack isn’t here. A note sits on the dash. “Had to use the bathroom. Be back in two minutes.”

Pulling a candle from the packet and stuffing it into the flaky chocolate frosting, I place it on the dash, a shiver racing down my spine—regret, guilt, the twinge that’s never left me since my mom was stolen from me.

Blood pumps hard through my body, resonating the pounding of my heart as I grip the lighter, waiting for Jack. The lonely wave that usually would be crashing over me isn’t as powerful today. There’s a light rumble in my chest, an aftershock rather than a full-blown earthquake.

Tipping my head against the headrest, a sigh deflates my lungs. It’s not normal to hold on to something that happened so long ago. Memories of her are fuzzy now, but I can’t help the way it shaped my life. Sudden tapping against the window makes me screech. Rain blurs the image on the other side, but I recognize the red apron of the checkout clerk. Rolling my eyes and holding a hand to my chest, I reach for the window button. Before I can press it to open, his body slams into the window. Once. Twice. I jolt, jerking back.

There’s a shadow behind him. Crimson stains hit the window. A soul-shattering scream howls from my lips as his body slides out of sight, his blood smeared all over the window. A black silhouette stands there looking in. He’s come for me.

I throw myself into the backseat and rush to open the back door, spilling out to the wet ground. My palms smart at the impact, the air whooshing from my lungs. Looking beneath the car, I see the clerk’s lifeless body, eyes open, staring at me from the other side of the car. My pulse roars in my ears. Tears leak from my eyes, mixing with the rainwater. I manage to gain movement in my legs, and with everything I have in me, I take off running without looking back to see if he’s chasing me. Fire burns my calves. Air is like acid in my lungs. I run until my lungs seize and my legs feel like they’re filled with stone, throwing myself at the coffee shop door. Struggling to grasp the handle, a startled customer opens it for me, and I crash inside, skidding across the floor, landing painfully on my hands and knees, dripping wet and shaking like a wounded animal.

“What the fuck?” Charlotte cries out. People whisper, their eyes piercing into me.

“He…he…killed him,” I choke out. “At the grocery store,” I finish, a sob ricocheting through my body like a ping pong ball.

“Who? Who killed who?” someone new asks. A crowd has gathered around me. Someone’s arms circle me in their embrace. “She’s shaking. Someone do something,” a distressed voice calls out, but I don’t know who it belongs too.

“I’m calling the police,” another says.

Warm material encompasses me as a jacket is placed over my shoulders.

“What happened, Lizzy?” the voice distorts.

“I was in the parking lot…and…and the clerk came to my window…then he just hit the window—his body—there was someone behind him. I ran—I got out and ran,” I sob. Guilt washes over me. What if the kid wasn’t dead? Should I have stayed to fight him off? Jack. Where was Jack? Oh god, I left him!

“Jack,” I scream, looking to the door. “Oh god, Jack.” I can’t breathe. I grasp at the air. My throat restricts and closes. I’m suffocating. I try to stand, but my legs fail me. “I can’t breathe,” I cry out.

“You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“You’re safe now. Come out of there.”

“I can’t breathe,” I cry out, darkness closing in around the edges of my sight.

“You’re breathing right now. Try to calm down.”

Marco…Jack…Jack…

Blank blackness steals all the color, all the air.

Jack. I lost Jack.Twenty-SixSharp stabbing shoots through my hand, jolting me awake. Bright lights hurt my eyes, making me squint to see through the slits. “Where am I?” I croak, lifting my hand. There’s a tube stuck in it. Fully opening my eyes, the room floods in. Charlotte jumps up from a chair, rushing toward me. “Hey. You’re awake.”

“What happened?” I ask, but the words stick to my tongue when the images of the clerk hitting the car window batters my mind.

“Jack?” I ask.

“I’m here.”

“Convenient,” Stephan growls from somewhere in the room. I scoot to a sitting position, taking in the IV and white sheet draped over me.

Catching my gaze, Jack strokes hair from my face. “You were dehydrated.” His smile is one of sorrow. “I’m so fucking sorry. I was gone for minutes.”