Nightmare on Third Street - Chapter Seventeen

I was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair that was bolted to the floor, my right wrist handcuffed to the arm, a bright light shining in my eyes. An officer, Detective Switz he said his name was, was looking at me with his beady gray eyes that made me feel uneasy no matter how I looked at him. I shifted nervously in my seat, swallowing thickly. Would they believe me? No. They wouldn't. Hell, I wouldn't believe me either, but I'd had to live it. He had a pad of paper down in front of him, and a tape recorder at his side, which was playing. He never moved his gaze from me, and I didn't like that at all.

"Mr. Randall," he said, his voice sharp. "I will ask you one last time. Did you stab your friend?"

I sighed heavily. "No," I said honestly. "I didn't. Like I've told you five times now, I did not stab Elrick. I would never do that to anyone, let alone to my friend." True, Elrick wasn't really a friend yet, but he was close enough. And I wasn't sure how the officer would take me for calling him an 'aquaintence'. Better to play it safe for now.

He eyed me again. "Are you sure?"

My anger flared. "Yes, I'm sure. Go ahead, search me. I didn't do it."

"Then who did?"

"I told you, it was an accident." I glared at him. "You can't really keep me here, you know, unless you're going to charge me. You can't charge me without proof. I didn't do it."

He glared at me now. Oh well, he knew I was right. He couldn't rightly charge me if he had no proof, thus he couldn't keep me here. With a heavy, defeated sigh, he grumbled as he got to his feet and grabbed a silver key. He uncuffed me from the chair, and I got to my feet as I rubbed my wrist. We both glared at each other for a long moment, before he snarled under his breath, "Know this, punk: You're not out of the clear yet. I still say you did it because you two got in a fight or something. But we'll see."

I held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated by this bozo. I had endured freezing stillness, fiery pain, and that nagging voice as it showed itself as Elrick, dead in my kitchen. I still got terrible chills from the memory. This cop had nothing on them. "Yeah," I puffed out with a breath. "We'll see." I moved toward the door, cautiously, for I wondered if he'd try to stop me. He did nothing, so I kept going. 'Thinks I did that to Elrick,' I thought with a scowl as Detective Switz reluctantly signed me out of the police station, releasing me. 'Like I would ever do that to ANYONE, let alone someone who I consider a friend.'

The two police officers who had taken me to the station took me back to the hospital, where Dominic waited just inside the doors. I looked around, but my parents were nowhere in sight. Giving Dominic a questioning look, I returned the hug as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" I asked as he pulled away.

"Talking to the doctor," he replied softly. "Something's happened."

I stared. "What happened?" I asked, feeling dread creep up into my throat. 'God, what now?' I thought, dreading the answer.

"...He got that look...." he trailed off as he averted his eyes.

"Who got what look?" I nearly shouted, grabbing his shoulders, my eyes darting around frantically. "What happened, Dominic?"

"...When you...when....when you froze. He...he has that look."

I felt my grip on Dominic's shoulders fade as I whispered out a faint, and barely audible, "No..." God, the voice. The voice was attacking him. If he did too much while he was already injured and weak... I darted past Dominic and to the stairs, mentally telling myself that the elevator just wasn't fast enough to get me to where I wanted to go. Dominic shouted something at me that I didn't catch, and then raced after me.

I rushed to Elrick's room and tried to enter, but my dad stopped me as he exited the room. I tried to push past him, but he shut the door and gripped my shoulder tightly. "No, Bryan," he said, his voice quiet and low. I swallowed, for he hardly ever used that tone. ti could only mean bad news. He gestured at the chair against the wall, just outside the door.

I slowly moved toward it and sat down as he knelt down next to me, his expression grim. I stared at him for a long moment, my heart racing around wildly in my chest. "What is it?" I asked, my voice a mere whisper. "What's wrong?"

Dominic came racing toward us, but Dad looked at him and waved him on. Dominic's eyes widened, but he quickly did as he was told, and turned down the nearest hallway. I wondered, briefly, where Mom was, but didn't dwell on the matter. Dad looked at me, keeping a firm grip on my shoulder. "Bryan," he started, but couldn't finish, shaking his head.

"Dad," I murmured, swallowing thickly. "What is it? What's wrong? Is he okay?" He had to be okay, as I kept telling myself. The voice was just messing with him, making him freeze and be unable to move. I had to get to him before it got worse, couldn't he understand? No, I mentally corrected myself. He couldn't understand, for I hadn't told him anything. And I didn't plan to. "I have to see him," I explained, slowly rising to my feet.

Dad's hand on my shoulder forced me back down. I stared at him in confusion, and he looked up to meet my eyes. The words that came out of his mouth next made my heart skip a beat and jump into my throat.

"Bryan...he's dead."