Kat

"I don't get why they always have to fight," you said.

"It's just in their nature," Hughie answered.

"I guess so."

After 30 or so minutes of walking, you sensed that something was off. Followed by a small pain.

Oh shit.

You slid two fingers into your underwear before quickly sliding them back out.

Blood.

"Fuck," you muttered to yourself. What were the odds of your period starting while in a random forest?

Then, you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was Kimiko. She held up her phone: 'are you ok?'

"Yeah... I'm okay." You replied.

As if it couldn't get worse, Hughie backtracked to to you now, too.

"What's going on?" He asked, looking between you and Kimiko. She gave him a smile, while you lowered your hand before he saw.

"Nothing is going on," you say, "but I may have to stop into town."

Hughie opened his mouth to question or deter you, but you continued before he could. "Kimiko will come with me, so I'll be fine."

"Uh, why can't I come?" Hughie scoffed, sounding offended.

"It's really nothing for you to be concerned about, Hughie."

"Nothing for me to be concerned about? We are wanted supe-terrorists, and you want to run off where you could be killed."

Valid concern. But now is not the time!

You turned towards Kimiko for help, who just shrugged her shoulders.

"Fine, you can come along." You said to Hughie, trying not to roll your eyes.

With that, the three of you turned another direction, unnoticed by everyone else. They were still bickering amongst one another.

"So... why are we going into town?" Hughie asked. You remained silent. Honestly, you planned to pretend he wasn't here.

Kimiko had other plans. She typed out 'blood' on her phone.

"Blood? Did you get hurt too or something? Why didn't you say anything! We could have–"

"No," you said before he could ramble any more.

"Then, why did Kimiko say–"

"I'm on my period, Hughie!"

The words came out louder than you wanted them too, but it got him to shut up. Nobody said anything else until arriving outside of a drug store.

Hughie was the first to break the silence. "What's the plan?"

"I don't know Hughie. Maybe that I go in and grab some pads, tampons, whatever."

"That's too risky."

"Excuse me?"

"What if somebody in there recognizes you?"

"Then I'll knock them out," you replied.

"Or Kimiko and I could grab the things."

"... 'the things?'"

"You know what I mean."

You couldn't help but laugh. Despite everything, Hughie is still so innocent in certain ways. He took in the moment. Seeing you a little happy after some darker days made him smile.

The moment was short lived.

The sounds of shouting and broken glass stole your's and Hughie's attention. A figure burst out of the drugstore, holding some boxes within her arms.

You and Hughie ran with Kimiko back into the forest until the shopkeeper gave up. And before any supes or police could follow the tracks, you three kept moving.

"What took you so long?" MM shouted from the car. Butcher shook his head disapprovingly.

Frenchie ran up to Kimiko. "Never disappear like that again." He said. Then he looked down, noticing the boxes of pads and tampons. "Why didn't you tell me instead of running off?"

You sighed. "They are mine, actually."

"... Oh."

Bonus.

For three days straight, you hardly left the only sofa. Taking up the entire space bundled in blankets. Laying peacefully.

Until the boys returned.

"When are you going to get the fuck up and do something around here, eh?" Butcher spoke, directed at you, setting whatever supplies he stole down.

"Don't talk to her that way," Hughie interjected. He was covered in blood, head to toe.

MM entered holding a takeout bag. He handed two things from inside to Hughie, who brought himself over to you.

Hughie offered you one of the burgers. "Made sure to get one for you too."

He used to get into fights all of the time– before the Grabber took him. A crowd would form around Robin and his opponent. Everyone cheered him on until the fight was over.

The fight was only over once Robin's opponent was knocked out and bloody.

Back then, you were a part of the crowd. Maybe not shouting. But always watching. Then, everything changed.

It wasn't the same anymore.

There was no need for you to join Finney's audience. Unnecessary violence does not deserve the attention.

You observe from afar, stopping before the school doors. You couldn't see anyone throwing punches from this distance. Only the circle of teenagers and the aftermath.

Everyone clears out moments after Finney does. Some look back to whoever lays unconscious on the yard. Not Finney.

He looks different. Almost as if he doesn't care anymore. Maybe since he's hurting. You can't really blame him, not after what he survived through.

It has also been four years since you and Finney have had a proper conversation. Which is also something that you don't blame him for.

He's been distant from everyone. Your interactions don't go farther than a brief nod in the hallways. Sometimes, a muttered "sorry" if one of you bumps into each other's shoulders.

That's how it has been for four years.

Until this moment.

For whatever reason, you didn't feel like returning to class. Perhaps mistake number one, since this decision led you to skipping class.

If that was the first mistake, then getting the idea to walk around was the second. Your feet guided you through town.

The third mistake was looking up. A bus stop was located across the street. Someone was there. Smoking. You squinted, making out Finney's figure.

You weren't quite sure why, but right now felt like the right time to speak with him.

"Didn't know you smoke."

Finney turned his head. For a moment, he held your eyes with his bloodshot ones. Was he stunned? Nervous? Irritated? Whichever one he was feeling, it was another thing that you didn't blame him for. After four years, why would he want to speak with you?

Perhaps this was a mistake. Looking up at him was a mistake. Walking here was a mistake. Skipping class was a mistake. If only you–

"Don't narc," he said, no longer looking at you. Finney faced forward once more, staring toward the ground.

His words interrupted your train of thought. Even caught you off guard since you were certain that he did not want to talk. You were more expecting him to tell you to fuck off. Or something like that.

"Ok," you replied.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke. It blew with the wind before vanishing. Unlike the smell. You wrinkled your nose a couple of times.

Finney didn't say anything else.

You shuffled your feet, thinking of what to say while the awkward silence grew. It was hard to make conversation when you're unsure of what to talk about.

He stared at you silently, holding the cigarette with his thumb and index finger. "Have you smoked before?"

You shook your head.

"Want to try?"

"I'm in enough trouble for skipping class."

"Just once," Finney tried again. "Besides, no one is even out here."

You didn't take him as the peer pressure type. If it were anyone else, you probably would have said no. You should have said no.

Instead, you heard yourself saying "fine" before joining him on the bench.

Finney handed the cigarette over. You accepted it, wrinkling your nose again. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "What? It stinks," you complained before holding the cigarette up to your lips.

The smoke filled your lungs, then came out as a fit of coughs. "Never again," you spoke while Finney tried not to laugh. You offered the cigarette back to him, which he gladly accepted.

Back in his mouth, it went, and back with the silence. It didn't feel as awkward as before. Maybe even a little comfortable now.

Finney no longer felt too distant to reach.

"You can talk to me whenever, y'know." You said, breaking the silence.

He made no attempt to respond. Finney took one last hit before throwing his cigarette away. You watched it land on the road, then added, "only if you don't stink of weed."

"No guarantees," he answered.

Robin called from WSQK less than five minutes ago. Her words jumbled together as she said "hi, sorry to bother you today, but Steve and I need to do something that is kind of important, like, right now, so are you able to come down to The Squawk?" You did not make out most of what she was saying; except for the first and last parts. Which was enough.

You began to feel bored when the next track started playing. Spinning around in a chair is only fun for so long. You placed a foot on the ground, stopping the chair. A cluttered shelf shifted seconds after.

It opened like a door, revealing Robin and Will. "Your mom's plan... kind of sucks. Where as your plan... is genius," you overhear Robin talking. Later on, you see Will nod his head. "Are you two sneaking out? Have fun," you spoke up. They both turned their heads. Will gave you a faint smile while Robin stared for a moment. Then, she turned to Will. "Can you give us a moment?" He nodded before walking towards the radio station's entrance.

Robin watched Will for a few seconds. She waited for him to be a fair distance away, then walked up to you. "Hi," she said. "Hi," you repeated. A moment of silence. "If Will's mom asks you anything, could you not tell her that I am taking Will out to a possibly dangerous place?" You pretended to zip your lips shut. "I won't tell her." She responded with a quiet "thanks."

Finney continued. He raised himself onto his toes, then opened the freezer door with little force. Facing him was a small tub of ice cream. He pulled the tub towards him, holding it against his body with one arm. Finney closed the freezer as gently as he had opened it.

Next, he approached the counter. Laying on top of the flat surface was an ice cream scooper. Finney had placed it in that spot while there was still sunlight so he wouldn't have to fight with the drawer. He grabbed that as well, balancing it on top of the tub's lid.

With his cargo in hand, Finney traced his previous footsteps back through the kitchen.

Another pause.

This time, in front of his father's slumped figure.

Another snore.

Finney continued, passing his father and returning to the television room. It was a small space, additionally fitting a couch and chair. But he chose to sit on the floor.

He clicked his flashlight off since the tv provided enough light. While Finney scrolled through different channels, his ice cream sat in front of him.

Most of the time, the television screen would only show static. If not, then something that looked boring. Or a tv episode for children. Eventually, he found something of interest; a horror movie.

There was a woman running. Presumably running away from someone or something. She pushed herself into a room, slamming the door shut from behind.

Instantaneously, there was a thud.

Finney twisted his head around. He squinted at the window. Nothing was visible. Only darkness.

Another thud– something hit the glass.

Finney scrambled to his feet. He made slow, deliberate steps forward. One hand gripped tightly onto the flashlight.

A muffled voice cried out.

He pointed the light outside. It reflected back at him, so he moved closer until he could see through the window.

It was just you.

"Finney, what the hell!" You spoke in a raised voice and hit your hand against the window.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't realize it was you."

"You left me in the dark out there, Finney."

"I know. I'm sorry."

After realizing that what was outside was you, Finney pushed up the window. You climbed in. He brought a blanket over. You wrapped yourself in it and sat down next to him.

The movie never stopped playing. Of course, moments were missed. You and Finney had missed any and all context as to why a bloody arm emerged from a bathtub (filled with blood).

"Ugh," you muttered, cringing at the scene. Finney sneaked a glance in your direction. He did not know that you disliked these types of things.

He slid the ice cream towards you. "Want some?" Finney offered. You shook your head, "I don't think that I can eat."

"Would you like to lay down?" He asked, to which you responded with a small nod. "Alright, the couch should–" before Finney could finish speaking, you were slumped against him. Your head resting on his shoulder.

Noah sat in front of his desk, notebook opened, scribbling down words with a dull pencil. A mix of warm sunlight and strung up faerie lights brightened the space. He wrote quietly; only the sounds of rustling leaves and pencil on paper could be heard.

Branches reached out both above and below. The thinner ones moved with the wind– a couple of them hit your head during your climb.

You pushed up a wooden panel with one hand while silently fuming. Your head popped up through the wooden floorboards. At a distance was Noah, hunched over his desk.

"Thought you would be here," you said, hauling yourself up onto the floor. Noah lifted his pencil off of the page; your voice interrupted his flow. After setting his pencil down flat, he spun around in his chair. "We're about to head to the theatre."

"Oh... right."

"Are you gonna come?"

Silence fell between you and Noah while he thought it over. "I'm going to keep working on this. You guys have fun, though."

"You're the one who suggested that we go."

"I know..."

You sighed, making your way over to his side. Noah's notebook laid open on the desk. You tilted your head down to read what was written. It was another investigative piece; a dark theory as to why a well-earning shop suddenly closed.

After reading through the page, you lifted your head and let out a sigh. "Noah... Writing this type of stuff hasn't gotten you anywhere."

"I know."

"And it's not magically going to."

He opened his mouth to speak. Then didn't. Noah was upset; but did not want you to be.

"Your best option is to write a fluff piece," you continued.

"That's not what I want to write, though."

"Well... How about this," you started. An idea crossed your mind. "Write about your theatre experience."

People don't want to read about scary theories about their town. But they may be interested in theories about scary movies.

"Fine," Noah said with a sigh, pushing himself off of his chair.

riiing riing riiing

A cartoon that you have never seen before was playing. Animated lips moved but no dialogue could be heard. Bright colours lit up the screen.

riiing riing riiing

"Can you answer the phone?" Your mother shouted. She must still be going through her old clothes.

Duct tape holding part of the cushion together caught on your limb while getting off of the couch. It was a worn out piece. You made a mental note to have it replaced.

riiing rii–

You picked up the phone, holding it near your ear. "Hello?"

"Finney is missing."

It felt as if time stopped. You knew the boy. Finney Blake; the brother of your friend. The same friend whose voice mixed with static next to your ear.

You took the phone away from your ear, placing it back onto the wall. Finney is missing. The Grabber took him. Unless it was just some coincidence. He could be out late doing something, although that's not like him.

"Hey!" Your mother's voice made you jump. You looked away from the phone, meeting her eyes. "I asked you, who was it."

"I–I'm going to the Blake's house."

"Oh, so it was Gwen. Alright. Have fun and be safe."

Their house wasn't far from yours. It was just a couple of streets, a school, and a couple of more streets away. Within walking distance.

The sidewalk along the first street is awful. There are cracks where weeds grow out of and sudden dips. It was worn down. The entire neighbourhood is.

Once at the end of the street, one right turn eventually leads to the school. It has a large field that its faculty takes way too much pride in. There's another smaller area next to a sidewalk leading up to one of the school's entrances. It was where you first met Finney and his sister.

After second period, your friends wanted to try new foods that the convenience store nearby had to offer. You left the school with them, turned in the direction of the sidewalk, and stopped.

Finney Blake was being beaten by a group of boys. One with ginger hair pushed him to the ground. Another with dark hair started kicking him.

Your friends saw it. They snickered to themselves and continued walking down the sidewalk.

Not you.

Instead, your feet moved onto the grass. Your pace quickened until you stood by a metal fence post. "Hey!" Your shout drew the boys' attention.

They stopped hurting Finney for the time being as their focus was on you. "You wanna join us?" One asked with a smirk on his face. In response, you shook your head before approaching the scene.

"Leave him alone," you said, which seemed to be enough. They muttered insults and cackled to themselves before walking away.

Finney Blake remained on the ground. He got up to a sitting position though. Dirt was smeared on his cheek and stained his clothes. Surely there are bruises forming as well.

"They're assholes," was all that you could think of to say. He replied with a simple "yeah". You offered him your hand. He took it, getting back onto his feet.

Word about the situation must have spread, since a girl ran over. She gave Finney a tight hug.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

The girl pulled away and turned towards you. "Who are you?"

"I got those guys to run off."

She introduced herself as Gwen and Finney as her brother.

The remainder of the walk went by fast. You hardly thought about it. A knock on their door wasn't necessary. It's rarely locked anyway.

You pushed open the door, gently closing it behind you. Her dad was awake– sitting in his chair– but did not notice you creeping up the stairs.

Gwen's bedroom door was open a crack. Enough to see a yellow light shining. You pushed the door to open wider. Gwen looked up at you from where she sat on the floor, positioned in front of an open dollhouse.

Her eyes were a little red, like she had been crying. Of course; her brother was missing. You settled down on the floor beside her. Without really knowing what to say or do, the best that you could come up with was to ask questions.

"Do you know when he went missing?"

"Today. I haven't seen him since school."

"Are the police doing anything about it?"

"Not yet."

"How about we look around tomorrow? Maybe put up some posters too," you offered.

"Okay."

After the brief conversation, her dad yelled from the living room. A bed time reminder. Gwen scrambled to close her doll house and turn off her light. Standing by the switch, she said, "you can sleep in Finney's room. If you're staying." That must have been hard for her to say. So you nodded and left her room, heading for Finney's.

There have been many nights where you slept over. Sometimes you would get to sleep in the living room– if their father allowed it. Otherwise, you would sleep in Gwen's room; on the floor with a spare blanket and pillow.

There was one night where you found yourself asleep in Finney's room.

Your parents were supposed to leave town for a while. They had plans to hire a babysitter. Not wanting to be stuck with a babysitter, you walked home from school with Finney. Gwen split ways to stay at a friend's house.

Their father was passed out in the living room. Finney grabbed a glass bottle out of his father's hand. He remained unconscious into the night. You two sat in front of the tv, snacking and watching whatever played on a low volume.

You noticed Finney growing tired as the night dragged on. His movements became sluggish until he stopped reaching for more treats altogether. He struggled to keep his eyes open and every few minutes his mouth opened to yawn.

"Let's go to sleep now," you said quietly. Finney wasn't opposed to the idea. He turned off the TV before leading you upstairs. You were about to head towards Gwen's bedroom, but stopped at Finney's request. "You can stay in my room."

That night, you ended up in Finney's room. And not on the hardwood floor either. He shared his bed with you.

Tonight, you didn't have to worry about rolling onto his side in your sleep. He wasn't here. You thought about him– pondering on his well-being and brainstorming where he could be, until you fell asleep.

Gwen peddled quickly on her bike, looking up and down roads. It was her idea. She looked at every house that she passed. You were more focused on putting up posters on lamp posts.

Staying asleep for longer than a couple of hours at a time was hard. You weren't able to fall back asleep after 5am so you came up with a poster design.

"MISSING PERSON" in big bold letters. Underneath, "Finney Blake" in a smaller font but still bold. Then, a picture of him. Followed by information such as last sightings and phone numbers to call. You waited outside of the library until it opened to print out a stack.

A close by store sold clear tape that was nearing its end. You tore off large pieces that were more than enough to keep the posters stuck to the posts. Using as minimal an amount as possible was not a priority.

"Gwen!" You shouted after ripping off the last bit of tape. She slowed and turned her bike. "I'm out." She cycled back to you. "I didn't see anything," Gwen reported, while you walked behind her, dropping the empty tape roll into her backpack.

She rode back to her house. You walked back to yours. There was nothing else to do for now. Tomorrow you could try looking elsewhere.

You entered, kicked off your footwear, then headed for the kitchen. A strong smell of roasted vegetables guided you. Your mother was standing in the room. Her attention was more fixed on the window than the stove.

"Hi," you greeted her, to which she turned to you and repeated.

"Police called about Finney. How devastating."

"Gwen and I tried looking around. Put up posters too."

Her eyes dipped down to the papers in your one hand. Then, they scanned your face. "Go to bed after eating."

The day had been exhausting. You spent all day walking around on little sleep. So, with a full stomach, you walked up stairs, ending up in the bathroom.

All it took was a single look in the mirror to visibly see how tired you were. And how badly you needed to clean your body– although that can be tomorrow's task.

You grabbed your toothbrush, squirted a pea sized amount of toothpaste onto its bristles, then turned the tap on. Cold water ran out of the faucet and down the drain.

Laughter and shouting filled your mind. Yours and Finney Blake's.

For whatever reason, your mom felt the need to meet Finney. She had already met Gwen during a school event.

You invited Finney over to make her happy. He stayed for dinner and for some time after. You two were left alone after your mother left for a bit.

Finney took it upon himself to wash the dirty dishes. He turned the left knob, expecting hot water. There was none. He tried the other. Still none. "Do you not have hot water?"

"What? Of course we have hot water," you said. After a brief inspection you realized what he was doing wrong. "That's the cold water."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"No."

"Yes."

"The other one is cold water."

"... Did you give it a minute to heat up?"

His face turned red while you laughed at him. Once the hot water was going, Finney started cleaning the dishes. You dried them with a cloth.

You woke up late. An overcast sky with patches of sunlight visible was on display through your window. After washing yourself and changing clothes, you headed downstairs.

Your mom darted from room to room, collecting papers, cards, keys, and whatever else she needed for today. You waited until she stood still– frantically packing small items into her purse– to speak. "Where is the duct tape again?"

"Should be somewhere. One of the bottom drawers," she answered.

Assuming your mother was referring to the kitchen, you made your way over, crouching low and opening drawers until the roll turned up.

You carried it with you back into the living room. Tearing a piece off was a small struggle, but you managed. You stuck it over a rip on one of the couch cushions. It replaced the old one.

Your mother had made it to the doorway. Slipped on her boots and a light jacket. "Be safe," were her last words.

Shortly after she left, you left. Gwen was likely looking for Finney again. You did not know where she would be looking so you chose not to bother with joining her. Instead, with your backpack on your back filled with the remaining posters and duct tape in your hand, you put them up in a different area than yesterday.

You made it back home after there were no more posters remaining. The duct tape was returned to its drawer before you settled onto the couch. There was a chance that the news had something to report. Maybe new information into Finney Blake's disappearance.

The short answer was no. Just an interview where a detective is asking for leads and tells people to stay safe.

School started with an assembly. One that must have been hard for Gwen. An announcement by the principal about Finney Blake's missing status. It was hard on you too. But not as hard as attending classes. They resumed like usual.

You were concentrated on finding Finney. Not taking part in a pop quiz. Why is there a pop quiz today of all days anyway? The double sided page remained blank. Not even your name was written down. Every time that you looked at the first question, you couldn't read the words.

Where is Finney? He must be in the area. How else could The Grabber work so fast. Likely held up in a house– somebody would have heard something of interest otherwise. But where exactly?

Is he alone? Likely. Every week a kid goes missing. The Grabber could be killing one before going after another. Unless The Grabber is holding them all. In that case, it's hard to assume anything.

A loud ringing brought you back to the classroom. First period was over. You turned in the blank quiz before walking out.

Your second period classroom wasn't too far away. It was in the same hallway. Science. The one class that you shared with Finney. Prior to meeting him outside of the school, you never talked to him before. You never even noticed him.

If you never stopped to help Finney Blake, you never would have talked to him. Never would have become friends. Never would have partnered up in class or threw notes at each other making fun of the teacher or debating about which movie is better.

"Ahem."

You were pulled back once again. This time into a dark classroom. It looks like a documentary was playing. You looked to your right. The professor stood beside your desk, clearing their throat.

They spoke after getting your attention. "You are here to learn. Not daydream." They didn't even give you a chance to reply. You watched the professor move elsewhere.

You couldn't stand it any longer. Once lunch break started, you hurried out of the school. Went home for the day. Your mom would understand.

At home, you immediately went for the tv. A new interview was on regarding the case. You caught the words "bittersweet end."

It was over.

You ran out of the house, listening out for sirens as you hurried along. There was none for a few minutes. But you spotted a police car driving down the street. You followed it through the town until flashing lights came into view. At least five cop cars barricaded the road, stopped in front of a house. Ambulances and firetrucks were a part of the mix.

Your pace slowed to a walk once you neared the vehicles. Everyone was too busy to notice you. Detectives were speaking with news reporters; police and firefighters brought bodies out of a house across the street while medics examined them.

Finney Blake was alive.

Gwen sat with him in an ambulance, at the back, doors open and feet dangling a couple of inches above the ground.

They noticed you approaching but made no effort to move. You stopped in front of them. "Hey."

Finney attempted to smile, only managing to twitch one corner of his lips. "Hey," he responded. An awkward moment of silence passed before you joined them, hopping up beside Finney, leaving some space for the siblings.