Chapter 2 Pocket the Change: Part 2 

Mareah and I sat quietly in his hospital room, a slight tension in the air. I sat and looked at my phone, all the while keeping an eye on Mareah, who looked ready to bolt. Maybe I should let him. Yet why am I, the one said he didn't care about friends, being such a busybody? This puzzle will possibly never be solved. Or I will just ignore it, humans are walking contradictions after all.

When Mareah's parents burst into the door they ran directly to Mareah, talking over each other and yelling things like: "where are they, if I get my hands on them..." and other such things. I was in a chair right beside the door while the bed was placed diametrically opposite the door. Otherwise they would have noticed me by now. I coughed lightly drawing their attention.

They straightened themselves and probably said an awkward sorry very quietly, but it might have just been my imagination. They introduced themselves and asked if I was Mareah's friend.

"Hello there, we're Mareah's parents, Kate and Albert, are you Mareah's friend?" Albert was a buff looking man who looked very intimidating when he glared at you. Kate seemed like a nice person, at the least she was less scary than her husband.

I cleared my throat, hoping my voice wouldn't crack when I spoke. "Yeah, my names Bysshe." Sounding casual definitively not pulled off, I'm cringing inside. Why did my voice have to shake?!

 Ah, I forgot to say my last name, too late. It would be too awkward to say it now.   

"Thanks for helping our son out Bysshe, we really appreciate it. Did you by any chance see the people who did this to him?" You could tell Albert was still angry at them, he lowered his voice at the last part of his sentence. It's not like I wanna save those pissant's asses, but I really can't remember their stupid faces. Like, people such as them don't stick in my mind at all. I furrowed my brows trying to remember, I seriously tried. 

"No, I'm sorry. It was pretty dark and I was wearing my motorcycle helmet..." I trailed off hoping my excuse wouldn't be too questionable, or obvious. He seemed to take the bait, though. His reaction wasn't obtrusive, he just put his hand on his chin, thinking. I could only wonder what was going through his head.

"Tell me, Bysshe, do you see my son bullied at school a lot?" That was out of left field.

"I haven't been to school for weeks." I was being honest here.

"Why haven't you been in school?" He seemed worried and surprised. I don't know why he looked worried, but his surprise was reasonable.

"My parents just died." ...And with that sentence so did the conversation. Is this my fault? I just wanted to be blunt, and not have to beat about the bush with them worrying how to comfort me. I'm grieving but I don't want pity. I don't want someone feeling sad for me when they just met me.

Thankfully I didn't have to bear the quiet for long, as Kate broke the pregnant silence with a warm smile and chuckle. She had been talking quietly with Mareah this whole time, apparently getting his story of the attack or something.

"Well I'm sure you've got stuff to do Mr Bysshe, so we won't keep you any longer. Here's my number if you need anything." She handed me a slip of paper that magically appeared in her hand. Is she a magician? I mean, how does she do that? I don't even see pockets on her, let alone a purse. Mysteries of the deep. Yep, I made a bad pun. I don't even know if that qualifies as a pun. Whatever.

I took her number and left the hospital. Thankfully when I brought Mareah to the hospital I didn't call an ambulance and rode my bike instead. Otherwise how would I get home?! That reminds me, aunt Bethany is probably wondering where I am. I checked my phone and saw I had two text messages. They were both from aunt Bethany. She told me to come home and that dinner was ready. I answered that I was on my way. With that I got on my bike and drove into the sunset. And the story ends there, I stopped for coffee of course.

When I got home, aunt Bethany looked pissed. I have no idea why, and I'm not being sarcastic. She was setting the table with hot dishes and sat down with a barely audible huff. I walked quietly, for some reason apprehensive my loud footsteps would anger her more. When I reached the table I sat down slowly and we began eating. 

It was so silent while we ate. 

Aunt Bethany glared at the food so intensely I thought the dish might crack out of fear. I felt like a mouse with a giant lion looming over me. What? a lion is a cat. Shut up. When we were done I brought the dishes in and hurriedly started doing them. This might appease her. If not I have no idea what to do.

I was startled when she suddenly appeared behind me and started talking. "I'll do the dishes." I jumped like twelve feet in the air. Of course I'm exaggerating, that's humanly impossible.

I turned around and said, "Ahhh! don't scare me like that!" Her only reaction was to raise her eyebrow. "I can do the dishes... so, you can dry." I continued, praying for my soul. She grunted in affirmation. 

I washed dishes as quick as possible, hoping to escape to my room afterwards. I've never been so tense in my life. Suddenly aunt Bethany sighed and put down the plate she had dried. I almost flinched, wondering what was next. Please don't let it involve me.

She leaned on the counter and bowed her head, sighing once more. But this time it seemed as if the tension left her body and she limply clung to the counter for support.

"Sorry." She said abruptly, but in a breathless voice. I looked at her curious as well as scared to know why she was acting this way. "I was just... letting go of the past." Aunt Bethany turned and walked away, but as she was turning I caught sight of her face. It was deathly pale, and her lip was trembling furiously.

Why?

Everything seems like a mystery lately. Aunt Bethany, myself, Mareah and his parents, just... why? I don't think anything could be understood by my slow moving brain. I wanted everything to stop. Just stop.

Why did my parents leave me behind?

I found myself looking down at the trembling hands holding the wet dishes over the sink. They were my hands but I couldn't control them. Why? I was startled when I saw droplets of water falling onto them. Those beads of water were burning hot, scalding my hands. I looked up to turn the faucet off. It wasn't on.

I then felt the wetness on my cheeks. What's happening? Is my whole body is conspiring against me? I felt my knees go weak, silent cries wracking my body as I slumped down, dishes still in hand. I pulled them to my chest, clinging to them tightly as I sobbed. I was in unspeakable agony, but couldn't make a sound.

I don't even know why anymore. All I feel is grief, and I don't want to dig any deeper. Because when I stare into the abyss, it stares back at me.