Cash
Just Matthew being an idiot again. I need to take care of it. I promise I’ll make it up to you.
Wallflower
Is there anything I can do?
Cash
Just go home so I know you’re safe.
He wasn’t even sure what possessed him to type that, but he knew that’s what he needed. To know she was safe. To know his brother was safe. He returned to the thread with Matthew.
Cash
Where are you? Just sit tight and I’ll come talk to you. We’ll go to the police together.
Matthew
It’s too late. I’m getting my things and leaving town. That’s if I make it out of here.
Cash
Come on, man, just wait for me. We’ll talk this out. I’ll be home in like thirty minutes.
About ten minutes later, the bus was rolling into the school parking lot and rounding to the backside of the gym.
The disquiet only amplified when Matthew didn’t text him back.
The team piled out, all heading for the showers before they would hit the town, but Cash ducked out before they noticed. His hands began to shake as he hurried for his truck.
He unlocked it, and the old door groaned as he pulled it open. He jumped inside, and the engine chugged to life when he turned the key. He put it in gear and turned it in the direction of his house across town. Figuring it was the only place he was going to be able to cut Matthew off.
He’d try to talk some sense into him.
Get him help.
Sweat dribbled from his nape and down his spine as he traveled as quickly as he could, hopping lanes to get around slower traffic, his thumb anxiously tapping at the steering wheel.
“Come on, come on,” he shouted at a red light before he was gunning it again when it turned green.
He made the left into their neighborhood, taking the old truck hard up the road toward his house.
And he couldn’t quite decipher the feeling that overcame him as he came up on it.
Wickedness, he guessed.
The sense of evil crawling through the night as he approached the driveway. He yanked at the wheel to pull his truck off the side of the road, and he jumped out, his eyes scanning as he tried to discern what was wrong.
Smoke.
There was smoke coming out of the right side of the roof, and he could see flames licking up through the living room window, consuming that entire side.
“Oh fuck,” he gasped before he went running up the drive, fumbling to dial 911 as he went.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“House fire at 4523 N. Milligan. Hurry.” The words were shards, choked and hard as he ran up the drive. He started to angle for the front door when he noticed the muted glow on the left side of the house.
