Wren released Derek and Ellie from the closet alive.  Halloween is rapidly approaching.  Derek's leg is healing fast and his necklace still missing, keeping the tension between him and Wren taut.  Hopefully, the holiday will bring everyone a little closer together.

 

Chapter 6: Every Single Romeo

 

          Every flower that blooms loses its pedals when it shrivels up and dies.  When a flower stops gathering the sun, feasting upon the soil, and breathing the air at its own account, then I am lost by its actions.  Too foreign of a concept for me and too strange its conclusions, I am lost.  It is no longer a flower among the flowerbed.  It is a hole among the yellow flowers, which I must now try to fill.

 

            Evening’s sun stretched out every building’s shadow.  A cold air settled into the city.  The air chilled every car headed home, giving the city an oddly appropriate climate for tonight.  Wren pulled into the driveway and into the garage.  She exited her vehicle and sighed.  She carried more bad news.  A whole day of searching at work had not produced Derek's missing necklace.  Even though Wren worked Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday, today brought the days searching only to two.  Wednesday proved to be the only day her busy schedule could allow for any searching.  Actually, spiting Wren in the very end, Wren lost an earring during today's search.  She was in disbelief at that misfortune, but Wren believed the bad luck was appropriate.  Like her soul, jewelry also was sucked away at her place of employment.  Wren closed her car door, tossed a store bag over onto her shoulder, and prepared to tell Derek the bad news for a second time.  Derek, in a ridiculous mood of positive outlook, did not seem too upset when she presented him the news the first time.

            Wren entered the house through the garage.  Before setting a second step into the foyer, Wren’s food landed on wet and slightly sticky tile.

            "What the...?"  Wren said, confused.  She looked to the floor.  The entire floor was stained red.  Not even on inch of the white tile was visible.

            "E-E-Ellie!"  Wren screamed.  "What’s going on here in the foyer?"

            There was no answer from either level of the house. "Ellie?"  Wren called out, suppressing urges to run back to the garage.  "Ellie, please explain..."

            Still, silence choked the house.  An unnatural silence.  Not even a television or the fridge made noise.  Wren waited for any sign of life, any noise.  Yet nothing came. 

            ''Ellie?"  Wren called out for a third time.  She heard a car pass their house, but nothing from Derek or Ellie.

            A scream then pierced through the house.  A horrific, agonizing scream, originating from upstairs.

            Wren jumped.  “Ellie!  Are you okay?”  She screamed.  Fast-moving, heavy footsteps ran down the upstairs hallway.  Wren advanced forward to find the source of the scream, but before she was able to land another step, Ellie frantically ran out of the hallway.  Derek chased after her with an outstretched hand.  For being on crutches, his speed surprised Wren.

            “What is going on!”  Wren demanded, but neither one took notice to her question.  Ellie continued to scream as Derek closed in on her after they rounded the dining table area to the inside of the kitchen.

            “Wren!  Help me!”  Ellie screamed.  Wren started to transverse the wet foyer.  Wren stopped in her tracks when Ellie’s scream turned into a huge laugh.  Ellie rounded the kitchen corner, appearing at the peak of the steps.  She had a huge smile on her face, which flipped between a look of horror and amusement.

            Wren’s face tensed up as she watched those two goof off.  Derek was chasing after Ellie for unknown reasons, dressed in the most boyish cloth Ellie and Wren could muster from their closets.  Ellie, cowering in fear and unsuccessfully attempting to defend herself, wore a shorter skirt and tighter shirt than normal.  Wren was curious as to why, then frowned.

            “You don’t need my help!”  She shouted.  “Derek, stop it!  Quit doing whatever you’re doing and explain this mess on the floor.”  Wren raised up a show and examined its underside.  “What is this?”

            “You mean ‘explain the butcher’s floor?’  Why, Ellie and I added the blood to properly frighten any little children that may helplessly come in when receiving their candy!”  Derek said, finishing with a distorted, evil voice.

            Wren sighed in disgust, and then shifted her thoughts.  “It is Halloween today, isn’t it,” she stated bluntly, looking up at the two troublemakers.  Both had stopped running and looked down upon Wren from the top of the steps.  Both had a smile upon their face.

            Yet, belying his smile, Derek was slightly astonished at Wren.  “Yes, it is Halloween!”  He said.  “Didn’t anyone mention it at work?  -You’d think they would have?-”

            “No.  At least, not to me,” Wren said, shrugging.

            “-Depressing.  I’ve been looking forward to today for months…-“  Ellie commented.

            “Now, this… blood…” Wren said, surveying the foyer floor again, trying to comprehend Ellie and Derek’s ideas.

            “Fake blood,” Derek corrected, pointing up his index finger.

            “But, it’s all over the floor!”  Wren quickly responded, jetting her arms out towards the floor, emphasizing just how much blood covered the floor.  “Why is it all over the floor!?  Why make this big a mess?”

            “We wanted to,” Ellie and Derek answered in unison.

            Wren looked up at them, positively startled.  She was unable to find the answer to which was more discerning: that they spoke in unison or that they placed blood upon the foyer floor.  The answer did not come to her before Derek interrupted her thoughts.

            “Just wait for the blood to dry, then you can step on it,” he said, reaching over and placing the palm of his hand squarely on the side of Ellie’s face.

            Her look was priceless when she felt Derek’s hand upon her face.  Derek laughed hysterically as Ellie’s face turned a few shades whiter than normal.  Ellie stood there, paralyzed and unable to scream.  Derek pulled his hand away from her face and looked into his hand.  Derek’s palm was a bloody red, the same color red as the perfect handprint he made upon Ellie’s cheek.

            Ellie reached up and smeared away some of the fake blood from her face with her fingertips.  She was unable to react properly to the situation and teetered between screaming, laughing, and smacking Derek.

            Derek found her reaction hysterical.  When he had found out about an hour ago she had a phobia of blood, he made it his solemn duty to tease her about it.  Now, his duty had been fulfilled and he certainly did not regret it.  Mostly, he was surprised she had such a cute little quirk.

            Now, she stood there unable to understand her own feelings as the slimy red substance solidified on her face.

            Wren felt embarrassed, much to her surprise.  She blushed and turned her attention elsewhere, as though those two had just had a romantic moment and her gaze was spoiling the mood.  Wren sheepishly examined the Deacon’s bench, before a logical sense rush backed to her and she turned to them.

            Anger tugged at Wren’s throat as she focused on them.

            What the heck are they doing?  What am I doing?  I am not going to turn my head for these two idiots, or at least that one idiot.  There is nothing going on, right?

            Wren was not so sure.  If she had felt embarrassed, Ellie or Derek must surely be feeling some attraction at the moment as well.  Wren certainly was not the only one feeling awkward.  Ellie looked like she could die.

            Wren looked at Derek.  His cheerful laugh unsettled her, even after a few days of him feeling pretty unbeat.  Except Wren could not remove an image from her mind.  Before his mirth, only days ago, he came out of the closet looking depressed.  Could it be he just came out sorry for what he did when her dad was over?  Possible, but Wren doubted that.  It seemed his laugh was somehow hollow, mimicking the hollowness in his eyes.

            Derek’s eyes connected with Wren’s.  A light flickered in the back of his eyes.  Then the light quickly disappeared, leaving only his green eyes peering at her.

            Wren grew concerned.  Over the last couple of days, Derek's attitude was growing too relax around the house, especially around Ellie.  Wren was guilty of not cracking down on this situation.  He was a wanted criminal.  He had and still continues to endanger both Wren and Ellie’s lifestyle, and Wren had yet to do something about it.  In fact, in the past four days, Wren realized both her and Ellie had started accepting Derek as another roommate.  Wren had started setting plates for him.  Both her and Ellie had donated their loosest fitting clothes to him.  Wren had spent two full work days looking for his necklace.  Today she had purchased, and still was carrying in the shopping bag, normal underwear for him, which, in retrospect, was better suited for everyone that he had underwear, and not an absence.  She even tried her hardest to clean his coat, which still had not attained its original color.  At any rate, Wren and Ellie were beginning to accept a criminal with a case of amnesia into their home.  A criminal with no money, no real proof of identification, and nowhere else to be kicked out too.

            Wren frowned at her thoughts while Ellie ran off to the bathroom in order to clean off her face.

            “I couldn’t find your necklace today.  Sorry,” Wren said, rather coldly.  However, after speaking, she regretted speaking more coldly than she had desired.

            Derek’s smile faded slowly, and he waited for his smile to vanish completely before speaking.  “That’s fine, Wren.”

            “Whatever…”  Wren replied, transversing her way to one of the stair sets, avoiding the wet blood to the best of her abilities.

            Derek watched her at her abandon to the foyer.  What got her in such a mood? “Smile,” Derek suggested.

            A confused and stunned look hit Derek.  “What?”  Wren asked.

            Derek replied only with a smile of his own before hobbling off into the kitchen, destined to wash his hands.  Ellie returned to the top of the steps, searching for Derek, but only found Wren instead.  She watched as Wren landed a step away from the bottom stair.  “Don’t worry, the fake blood doesn’t stain.”

            Unbalanced, Wren cautiously looked up at Ellie, avoiding with great care not to tumble.  “How do you know that it won’t stain, Ellie?”  Wren asked, reaching for the decorative wooden handrail, using the weight of the store bag to keep her from toppling over.

            “The bottle says so.  It says it does not stain carpet, clothes, skin, or slick surfaces.  You just have to wash with a soapy cloth and v’walla, damn thing’s clean.”

            “Indeed…”  Wren said skeptically, grabbing the handrail and stepping up onto the stair.

            “I’m excited!”  Ellie said, changing the subject.  “This is going to be the first Halloween in our house!  Granted there are not a lot of children around, but I’m sure some kids’ll will hit this neighborhood.  My parents know how many houses I hit before calling it a night!  You know, running around out there with a pillow case.”

            Wren rolled her eyes and sighed.  She removed her shoes and sighed again at the red shoe print in the carpet.  Wren threw her shoes onto the foyer to accompany Derek and Ellie shoes.

            "When the blood dries, the kids’ll really have something to scream over.  Plus, you can walk on it without worrying.

            “Why do you like Halloween so much?  If you ask me, it’s a ridiculously stupid holiday.”

            Ellie laughed.  She had predicted, from the moment Halloween had caught Ellie’s eye, that Wren detested Halloween.  Wren’s comment came as no surprise.  Actually, Wren’s comment amused Ellie.  “I love Halloween because everyone’s doing the same thing to fun, no matter their age.”

            "Fun, huh?"  Derek creepily said from behind Ellie.  Ellie turned around and jumped as Derek advanced on her.  He outstretched his hand and Ellie screamed.  She had not noticed no blood graced Derek’s hand.  Wren had noticed, and sighed.

            "Just like another roommate..."  Wren thought.

            Ellie ran off down the hallway.  Her room door slammed.  "What's that bag?”  Derek asked, standing at the top of the steps.  He had stopped his chase after Ellie.  “Something for me?"

            "Yes," Wren said harshly, throwing the bag contents at his face.  A plastic package smashed into his face, clinging to his nose for a moment.  Derek caught the package as it fell.  His obnoxious smile had changed into a goofy one as he examined his new boxers. "Thanks," he chuckled as Wren ascended the stairs.  "I disliked the alternatives."

 

            Ellie stood in front of her mirror as she pushed her arm through a jacket’s sleave.  The hobo jacket was roughly stained and worn, which complimented the tattered hat and soot-like make-up.  However, after closer examination, Ellie decided she looked more like a poor chimney sweep than a hobo.

            “No matter,” she thought, straightening her costume to be properly crooked.  “Both work.”

            She smiled, took one last look at her costume, grabbed her bloodied cleaver, and joined Derek and Wren in the living room.  Derek was stretched out on the couch, watching television and Wren stood in the kitchen, eating a salad.

            The three roommates all dawned their costumes, ready for the night’s festivities.  Derek's costume was the mummy idea he had presented to Ms. Ridge.  He was wearing even more bandages than normal, and had tainted many of the bandages with the fake blood.  Ellie complimented Derek silently on his simple yet effective costume.  The blood caught her eye and she complimented him on his brilliant intuition to buy the gallon jug of fake blood.  Wren's costume, on the other hand, was simple for the sake of time restraint and its participant’s general lack of imagination.  Wren, sadly, decided to celebrate Halloween by dressing up as a writer.  When Wren held up her mechanical pencil, her entire costume was summed up.  Wren also wore a pair of fake glasses and had done her hair up nicely, but Ellie still felt that Wren’s costume was the shittiest thing she had ever seen.

            "And you are...?"  Wren asked after a short while, exactly when Ellie finished examining her writer's costume, which must have coincided with Wren completing the examination of Ellie's costume.

            "A-" Ellie started.

            "Chimney sweep?”  Wren interrupted.

            "She's a hobo," Derek said, not having even seen Ellie, or glancing away from the television.  "I would assume a crazed hobo.  That cleaver, being bloody and all, you know.”  He chuckled, “chimney sweep, she says..."

            Anger flared in Wren’s eyes.  "She looks like a chimney sweeper with a side job as a butcher, then!  What do you want from me?  She's wearing a shabby coat from the 1940's.  It's dirty, dusty, and ripped in many places.  However, the jacket still looks like it was used, rather than aquired!  Her hobo just looks like a sweeper!  I mean, how can you tell the difference?  Is there a difference?  Why would you care about the difference?  And- and she just told you before hand what she was dressing up as."

            "-I didn't…but uh…" Ellie said, trailing off.

            "Again with the questions, huh?  Trust me, I've seen enough hobos to know the difference between being employed and being the guard of a gutter," Derek said, his eyes still unwavering from the television.

            "I don't really care what the hell my costume is...  I mean, it doesn't really matter," Ellie commented aside, slightly flustered that her costume was generating such a fuss.

            "Why do I not doubt you, criminal...?”  Wren barked, then rolled her eyes at Derek and took a bite of her salad.  She commented nothing further, trying to end the conversation even though Derek was ahead in the argument.

            Derek was unfazed by her statement.  In fact, he smiled slyly.  "Heh, a writer..."

            "What!"  Wren demanded.

            Derek acted startled, breaking his view away from the television. "What what?"  Derek asked, looking around for an invisible culprit that spoke such sarcasm at Wren.  After searching around for a while, he shrugged at Wren.  She only frowned and started to focus on her salad.

            Ellie inched forward into the living room and into the conversation, distraught at the tension.  "Her costume is fine...  Sure, it's weak but I expected less," Ellie said, setting down her cleaver on the coffee table.

            "-Hey!-" Wren yelled from the kitchen.

            Ellie stood next to the table, watching television until she turned to Derek. "Anything more on whatever you're looking for?"  Ellie asked, giving Derek an airy smile.

            Derek looked to Ellie in bewilderment.  Derek was not confused by the question, but by the fact that Ellie stated the question as though she had no prior knowledge to what Derek was searching for.  Had she not been paying attention to the events five days ago or was she playing vague for the sake of not bringing up the details to Derek.

            Derek humored Ellie's question.  "No, I haven't found anything new on the news, unfortunately."

            Ellie sat down onto the couch, but Wren quickly yelled at her not to sit down with her dirty hobo jacket on.  Ellie darted back to her feet and picked up her cleaver.  Derek stood up as well, turning off the television, and hobbling down into the foyer.

            “That’s too bad,” Ellie said as Derek passed her.  He only glanced quickly at her as he passed her to descend the steps.

            Down in the foyer, he moved to the front door and opened up the door.  He looked out the screen at the sun lower in the sky.  “What time is it?”  He asked loudly to either Wren or Ellie.  A leaf caught his eye as it tumbled through the air.  Not a soul was on the street and Derek suddenly felt the sight affecting him.

            “Almost four,” Ellie replied, calling down from the living room.

            “Okay,” Derek said, glancing up the steps.  He turned back to peer through the screen door.  “Then I give ‘em an hour or two.”

            “Huh?  Oh, right, for the trick-or-treaters,” Ellie said, appearing over the chair that was plush against the handrail.

            “How many do you think will come?  Ten, twenty?  I heard about the whole ‘no kid around for miles’ syndrome.  Whatever the hell you call it.”

            Ellie walked around to the steps, descended the stairs, and walked up along side Derek.  She joined him in watching out the front door.  “Yeah, it kinda sucks, but I’d say we’ll get thirty, maybe.  We’ll have a shit ton of candy to eat afterwards, though, if thirty kids don’t show.”

            “Indeed.”

 

            The first ring of the doorbell came at around 6:45.  A four-foot pirate stood upon Wren and Ellie's doorstep, with two parents standing several feet behind.

            "Aren't you just precious?”  Ellie exclaimed at the younger child.  A smile flared on the kid's face.  "-Derek, this one’s too young.­-  Have you pirated any booty yet?"  Ellie asked, presenting her metal bowl full of sweets to the child.

            "No, nothing yet," the pirate delightfully said as Derek sat back down into the chair he just previously left.

            "Make sure you're not caught by the Royal Navy!”  Ellie warned, putting some chocolate into the child's plastic bag.

            The child smiled, looked into his bag, and walked back to his waiting parents.  They took the child's hand and started their trek to Ms. Ridge's house.  Ellie’s face turned serious.  She leaned out of the door and tracked the family to Ms. Ridge's front door.  Ellie glared at Ms. Ridge as she stepped out of her house and gave the pirate some more candy.  Ellie slowly retracted back into the house, never cutting her stare way from Ms. Ridge.  After Ellie was back inside, she discretely shut the screen door.

            "I don't think a child that small knows what the Royal Navy is, Ellie.  In fact, I don't think the child even listened to a word you said after you presented the candy," Wren criticized, stopping halfway down the steps before sitting down.

            "Well, I’m not going to dumb down my comments because they’re kids.  I swear, some parents dress their children up in these costumes and don’t even tell their kids what their dressing up as!"

            "That’s the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Ellie.  You better at least censor your comments, if you don’t dumb them down."

            "Wren, how can you say that’s stupid?  Seriously, some of these kids don't even know who they are dressing up as.  I've seen kids dressed as SWAT members and not even know what SWAT teams do!"

            "-People really dress their children up as SWAT members?-" Wren silently commented.

            "What?  You tell every child their costume’s background?”  Derek chimed in from upstairs, his confused face appearing above the living room chair.

            "Yeah, every year.  Children need to know their costumes!  My favorite story happened two years ago when a child dressed up as a king.  I’d say the kid was four or five years old.  I wasn’t too sure, but I did ask him if he knew what a king did for a living."

            "Oh great, somewhere out there a little child has been scarred."

            Derek laughed.  He turned around completely in his chair to look down at Ellie, leaning heavily on the handrail.  Derek watched Ellie set the candy bowl down onto the Deacon's bench and began again after Wren's interruption.

            "So, anyway, the kid didn’t know what a king did, obviously, since he had said that a king was just a ruler.  'Not just a ruler,' I said.  'A king commands his armies and lords over his land.  A king keeps his subjects under his command.'  'Cool,' he said.  'Not cool,' I said back."

            "Oh great, here it comes..."  Wren sighed.

            "'A king usually ends up being murdered!'  Then I looked at his sister, who, I remember, was coming up the driveway right then, and I told him, 'Be careful of your sister.  You never know...'  And I turned the kid around.  Though he just looked at his sister, he had the funniest look in his eye.  Then I gave the girl candy, but the point was I made sure a king was not overthrown and I made sure that kid knew what his costume was all about."

            Wren sighed.  Derek and Ellie shared a hardy laugh.

            "That story was stupid and pointless.  I don’t believe you’ve done this before.”

            "Well, my dad usually got a kick out of it," Ellie replied. “Well, I mean, he would laugh when I did it.”

            "When did you start doing this?"

            "Eh, about a couple of years ago.  It didn't start with the king.  I think it was a five-year-old in a Dr. Jekyll costume.  I think I was insulted the kid didn’t even know who Dr. Jekyll was.  So I told him, and that's probably when it started," said Ellie, sitting down next to the candy bowl.  She looked up to see Derek staring down at her still.  "What?"  She asked him.

            "Oh, nothing," he said, still smiling that goofy smile. "You're just interesting, that's all."

            "Um, thanks?"

            "It's a good thing," Derek reassured her.

            "-I don't think so-" Wren silently commented, frowning.

            Derek looked at Wren and turned back around, sitting down normally into his chair.

            After a short while, the doorbell rang again.  Ellie stood up and opened up the door.

            "Hello there!  ­-Dammit, too young again.-"

            "Trick or treat!"  The boy yelled.

            "Trick or treat," the girl said.

            "Look at your costumes!"  Ellie smiled, grabbing the candy bowl.  "Who are you guys supposed to be?"  Ellie asked.

            The boy had on an old fashion vest with many sewn frills about the fabric.  His hair was slicked back with gel and he wore velvet slacks.  The shorter girl next to him wore a white dress.  She had a pink bow within her hair and a purse that held her gathered candy.

            "Romeo and Juliet!"  The boy shouted, jumping in enthusiasm.

            "Romeo and Juliet, huh?  Oh my God!  What an adorable Juliet!"

            Derek looked over his chair to the Juliet standing in the doorway.  He smiled.  Wren looked on from the steps, watching Ellie assault the two children with compliments.  The children were so innocent with their candy bags that Wren's heart felt warm.

            Ellie waved to the parents standing at the end of the driveway.  They waved back.  Ellie leaned towards the children and smiled.  "Do you kids know the story of Romeo and Juliet?"

            "Yes!"  The boy yelled.

            "No," the girl softly answered.

            "Well, it's a very old and very good story.  Romeo and Juilet were in love, and they were unable to be happy because their families were unable to be friends..."  Ellie explained.

            "Should you be telling them this, Wren?  You’re the writer."

            "That’s true, but I'm not going to ruin any child's Halloween by telling them the tragic story behind their costume."

            "Their families didn't allow them to see each other, but Romeo and Juliet loved each other anyway."

            "I guess you're right.  Though Ellie seems to be enjoying herself," Derek said, looking at Ellie beaming at the children.  "The center of attention, I guess."

            "Heh, understatement," Wren said, smiling.

            "Yep, she's certainly interesting."

            Wren noticed Derek's stare.  Derek having affection for Ellie was out of the question.  At least, in Wren's perspective.

 

            Eleven bells later, the trick-or-treaters dropped to an even slower pace.  Derek hobbled himself down into the foyer to sit next to Ellie.  The bloodied floor scared several young attendees, much to Wren's disparagement.  However, much to Wren's amusement Ellie's costume was mocked several times by different guests, who commented about her chimney sweep costume having an inappropriate butcher knife.  By night’s end, Derek's "costume" had worked the best.  The crutches were praised several times as being a good prop.  Wren's "costume," on the other hand, elicited no questions, neither as to what the costume was nor any clarification as to why the costume was chosen as such.

            Derek was unsure whether Wren was pleased or morbidly offended no one had noticed her costume.  Several times during the night, usually after a comment from Ellie about Wren's costume, Wren would claim that her costume need not be clarified.  What Wren said was true, but Derek was unsure to take Wren’s comments as playful insults or as a plea for someone to explain to her why were costume gathered no attention.  Wren declared the same point three times during the night and each time Derek felt less of an urge to tell her why her writer's wardrobe was uninspiring.  He was more focused on Ellie.  Every time Wren responded to one of Ellie's comment, she would laugh, and Ellie’s laugh made Derek smile.  Her laugh was so quirky, goofy, and honest.

            Then, his throat felt dry.  He had no explanation and ended up not searching for one.  He would shake off his concern by swallowing and laughing at the girls.  He had learned to shrug off the pain during his childhood.  He would swallow it down and carry on.  Pain would quit when it ran its course.

            By the end of the night, Derek’s throat burned with a mighty fury.  He found the pain unbearable, but he only smiled more.  He did not want to worry the girls, to cause them any trouble.  His presence worried them enough, and bothering them with his pain was not necessary.  After all, he was nothing more than a criminal squatting at their house.  A person that could be dismissed and cast away easily.

            Within his heart, Derek felt some admiration towards the girls.  What patience and forgiveness they had towards a person they planned never to see again.  Derek thought about it, and he decided he was like a chunk of firewood.  Firewood was useful, but there would be no reason to pamper or cherish the wood.  No real reason at all.  Yet, these girls cherished him, as if they cleaned wood before burning it.  Sharing a holiday with Derek would bring nothing to the girls in the end, but they were investing more time and energy into him and into sharing the holiday.

            Holiday sharing was not the only thing, either.

            There was Ellie.  Ellie, who Derek fondly sat next to on the Deacon's bench.  Ellie's feelings to Derek were nothing more than vague assumptions, but Derek was certain they connected on some level.  The level of Ellie's resembling Naomi.  The resemblance was not uncanny, though.  Derek decided that it was not that close, but it certainly made Derek feel good.

            However, like any good thing that happened to Derek, something swept in to disrupt his mood.  Sitting next to Ellie made that pit appeared again within his body.  Not to mention the flood of anxiety about Naomi's fate and his own guilt from hesitating to  run out and find her.  Derek also longed for his necklace.  He needed the necklace before venturing out.  Fuck his broken leg.  The pain paled in comparison to anything he had experience.  Screw this house and screw Ellie.  Living here was too petty, too sudden, and certainly nothing to seriously consider.  Proclaiming any sort of affection to anyone other than Naomi would just be a betrayal to her.  He'd find his necklace and be off.  Maybe it would remove the pit of solid, excruciating pressure from his chest cavity.

            "Derek, what's wrong?  What's with the sour look?"  Wren asked.

            “Why had I not just pressed on instead of stopping at this house?  Taking the time to find it stopped me from searching for Naomi!  Was it because I thought I was dead anyway, and if I survived, I could start new somewhere else?  Why would I run away from something so positive and precious as Naomi?  Because everything else in my life was nothing more than a series of trials?  Of tortures?  What about Naomi, and Karen, and all the others who helped me?  Who have I become to abandon them?”

            "Derek?"

            Derek searched his thoughts for footing. 

            “Would it be wrong for me to forget them?  To drop the good with the bad?  Or do I owe them too much?”

            "Derek, what's the matter?  We know the news hasn’t been giving you what you want and we know they’re spinning you to be guilty, but that was only that one show.  Come on, Halloween's still going on.  You can forget about it one day, can't you?  I mean, Christ, you're a man, aren't you?"

            "-What's that supposed to mean?-"

            "-Quiet Wren.-“ Ellie snapped. “Cheer up, it can't be all that bad.  I'm not sure what I can say to make you not worry, but I can say that should be having fun, not worrying about things currently out of your control."

            Derek smiled at Ellie, who had removed herself from the bench to stand in front of Derek.  "I think I'm going to bed.  Sorry, Ellie.  I had a fun Halloween."

            Ellie stepped back as Derek stood up.  “You sure?  It’s not even eleven.”

            Derek nodded and turned slightly away from her to head down the steps.  He turned the corner after the stairs into the hallway and as soon as his door came into view, a startled sound escaped his lips.  Derek's chest felt sharp pain.  He could barely breathe and felt lightheaded.  He supported himself against the wall and begged the pain to pass.  He continued to walk, determined to find his bed.  Yet, every step increased the pain and every step felt like Derek’s last.  He pushed with all his might, unable to think clearly, breathe properly, and speak loudly.

            As soon as Derek landed on the bed, all the weight of life's little stresses left him.

 

            Not fifteen minutes after Derek headed to bed, Ellie was downstairs pacing a small circle before his door.

            Ellie's conscious had nudged at her to come to his room and apologize.  Normally, her conscious would not have done such thing.  Today, however, felt abnormal.  Maybe it was their exit from the closet that had her worrying about Derek, but it could also have been the way he had reacted to her suggestion.  Sure, her reason for being down there was to apologize for asking him to forget his girlfriend's fate, but alternative feelings helped her down there all the same.

            Stalling now no longer seemed appropriate.  Ellie rapped her knuckles against the door.  After no answer, she questioned if she knocked loud enough.  She knocked again, louder and longer.  Derek did not stir within and Ellie’s concern grew.  She twisted the doorknob and lightly pushed open the door.  She peered in and saw that Derek was on his bed, sound asleep.  Ellie sighed in relief.  Not wanting to disturb his sleep, Ellie slowly shut his door.  Taking one last look at Derek for the night, a detail pushed its way into Ellie’s mind.  Derek was completely facedown on his pillow, and not off to the side.  He seemed to be not breathing.

            Ellie inched her way into his room, looking for a sign of life.  She saw no moving sheets and no body shifts.

            “Derek…?”  Ellie said, grabbing his shoulder to stir him.  There was no reaction.  Ellie shook him.  His body stiffly rocked on the bed.

            A horrified look plastered Ellie’s face.  She slowly shook her head as she backed away from him.  A tear escaped her right eye as she shook her head more and more, backing up farther and farther.

            Ellie ran off quickly to the upstairs, violently opening the door and screaming for Wren.  Derek’s face rested deep within the pillows.  His arms and legs were as still as his body.

 

 

End Chapter 6

 

            Derek stands at the end of a hallway.  An unknown hallway.  It is too dark to see, but there is a door to the left and to the right.  The doors are unmarked, and he will only enter into one.  A one-way path.  Chapter 7: Return