A million flakes of ash coated my skin as I woke up. My house, once beautiful and tall, is in ashes.

The last thing I remember was being home alone.

My parents were at the grocery store, and I remember someone, a boy, with black and red hair and a red eye, he was circling the house. He had a lighter, or something; had he burned down my house? Was he responsible for this destruction? I could remember my death all too clearly. The day that started this whole mess.

As I stepped through the door into my house, I knew something was up. There was nobody home, and an atmosphere of tension. I panicked for a second before I saw the note on the table. My parents were at the grocery store. I guess I was only imagining the tense atmosphere. I was an only child, so I was alone in the house. I’d better settle in, I thought, my parents take forever at the grocery store. I walked through the kitchen but stopped as I saw something strange at the window. A boy I had seen at school before was outside my window. How did he get here? I wondered. As I watched, he disappeared around the side of the house. As I was about to go to another window to see him from there, he came again from the other side. He’s circling the house. I realized with alarm. He repeated this several times and then his eyes unfocused and he grinned evilly, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. I rushed to the door realizing he was about to burn the house. When I tried the door it was locked - from the outside. I tugged more urgently, making sure the door wasn’t just stuck. No such luck. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but it was dead, even though I knew had charged it this morning. I cursed the phone silently for a moment before I fell to the ground and the flames - so hot that in some places they burned a bright whitish blue - closed around me, the world sinking slowly into peaceful darkness, my eyes closing into a kind of sleep as I passed out, onto the burning floor, unable to summon enough thought to my smoke clouded brain to stop myself from sinking to the already ash coated floor.

If you want to continue reading, check it out at my website acwolfe-books.weebly.com

If you want to wait in suspense, I will be uploading a chapter every Thursday.. I will tag everyone who likes.

#DeathSquad (Thanks to Mnezz for coming up with a fandom name! ^^)

When I regained consciousness, I was feeling cold even though small sparks from the hot fire still danced and twirled around me. My once unharmed, magnificent brick house was in ashes around me. I looked down. Not a scratch was present on my orange shirt, my dark blue yoga pants or my pale white skin. I could see several relics of the flames that had consumed the stone and wood. Blackened miniature statues we had collected over the three years we had lived here, the longest period of time we had lived anywhere, lay in ashes. Weird, I wondered, how am I alive? Standing up, I brushed the small flakes of ash, swirling around the completely burned mass of my house and all that it once held, off me. The small flakes swirled off me and around me as easily as if they had gone right through me. I shivered, cold despite the warm air and ran out to the front of my house, leaving behind the wreckage that was now just a stain of grey in the otherwise unharmed neighborhood with its small houses in neat rows. Around me lay all the other houses, standing innocently tall and unaware of the destruction next to them. As I walked along the sidewalk, a man in a black business suit with a navy blue tie and shiny leather shoes passed me.

“Excuse me sir? Hello?” I asked. The urgency in my voice sounded clear enough to me, but the older man just kept walking along as if he had heard nothing. I wondered briefly if it was because he thought I was asking for money. Living in a busy neighborhood, he probably had kids like me ask him for money all the time. No, not like me, I silently scolded myself, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I kind of was like them. I had no house, and minimal amounts of clothing, because our house and everything inside it had just burned to the ground. I tried to cheer myself up from these unpleasant thoughts with the joy of seeing my parents after a hard day as I continued walking, more urgently now out of eagerness to be somewhere safe away from my strange attempted murder, down the road. The grocery store was close to our house, so I decided to go there. My pointless wandering finally had a purpose, so I picked up the pace into a speed walk. My parents were in front of the old fashioned shop, crying. I ran up to them, ready to explain how our house had spontaneously caught fire. “Mom! Dad!” I yelled to them as I was running and as they were wiping away the tears in front of the wooden double doors of the store. I guess I was still too far away, because they didn’t seem to hear me, although I felt like I was standing right in front of them. “Um, hello?” I asked as I paced the rest of the distance to them so that I was close enough to stick my hand out to tap my mom on the shoulder. I stopped as I realized something was a little off. My hand had gone right through my mom’s shoulder, and I couldn’t see my fingers where they were stuck in her shoulder blade. I wiggled my fingers to see if I felt anything, but wiggling my hand into my mom felt basically like wiggling it in the warm, smoky air around me. I looked at myself again, wondering what sort of monster I had become. I had appeared to be solid when I awoke at the house, but now, in the direct light, I seemed almost transparent, like looking through a foggy window. The sidewalk was underlined beneath my feet, and when I stuck my hand out in front of my face, still facing my mom, I saw the floral pattern on my mom’s shirt, and it’s blue and pink colors mixed with the colors of my hand to form a bluish-tan color, almost the color of a bruise. The world spun around me as I realized something I hadn’t thought of when I left the burned wreckage to find my parents. 

What if I’m not really alive?

#DeathSquad

I shove my galaxy-themed backpack into my steel locker and slam the door shut like a steel mouth that narrowly misses chomping on my fingers. The bell rang, singing a screeching chorus that told me I was late for first period. God damn it, I curse. Mrs. Yancy is the absolute worst when it comes to punishing tardy students. I’d have to stay after school. I walk past my juvenile delinquent friend, okay, my only friend, Silas.

“You’re late,” he says in a nasally voice, mimicking Mrs. Yancy’s tone perfectly.

“Screw you, Silas. You’re late, too.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have Yancy. I have Wallace.”

“So what? Wallace is just as bitchy.”

“Something like that. See you after school,” he says with a grin. I walked the rest of the way to class.

“You’re late,” screeches Mrs. Yancy. “See me after school. The rest of the class snickers at my predicament. Well, who gives a fuck about them? They’re all jackasses who’ll never amount to anything. No one cares about what your social status is. They care about your GPA. Which is, at least for me, not bad. I get Bs and Cs, and one D in math (what else?). Silas, however, isn’t so lucky. He gets Ds, and has since fifth grade. He flunked fifth grade once, that’s how he’s in the same grade despite being seventeen and not fifteen like little old me.

“Sadie,” snaps Mrs. Yancy. “What is the answer?”

“Um… forty two?” Mild laughter makes my face burn, even though I said it to be funny.

“Wrong. Can anyone help us out?” She calls on a kid in the back of the room.

“Yes, Emily?”

“Five.”

“Correct. Good work, Emily.” Mrs. Yancy directs a pointed glare at me. I glare right back. It’s not my fault I’m stupid, or that Emily VanBuren is the only one paying attention. It’s like: use English please? I don’t speak mathematics. It’s classes like these where Google replaces Silas as my best friend. Mrs. Yancy passes out the homework and I stare at the arcane symbols before cramming the sheet into my binder. I’d worry about it later. Everyone else gets started on it while I pull out my phone.

GET ME OUT OF HERE! I text Silas.

Sorry mate. Can’t help you.

Screw you.

“Sadie, may I ask what’s so fascinating?” asks Mrs. Yancy, leering over me. I hurriedly shove my phone in my desk, but it’s too late. “Give me that.” I hand her the phone and look at the floor.

Damn it. I’m in even deeper shit. My dad is going to kill me.

#DeathSquad

Detention after school is just about the most boring thing ever. Without my phone, I have no idea what I’m going to do, aside from doodle on my pants. Luckily, I wore my doodle pants to school today, so my dad doesn’t care what happens to them. I call my dad via school phone and sit in a chair in the middle of the room, plopping my bag next to Silas’s stuff on the desk next to me. We are the only kids in detention, which is unusual. Usually the combination of Mrs. Yancy and Miss. Werther mean that the classroom is full of kids. But me and Silas are the only ones. Wait! I think I spoke too soon. In the back of the class, standing in front of a window, is a girl. Something about her seems… off, and for a moment I can’t place exactly what it is.

Then it hits me. She’s translucent. (Look at me, using my vocabulary!) I can see the window’s scenery behind her. Through her. She sees me looking and comes closer.

“Hey, Sadie, whatchoo lookin’ at?”

“Nothin’.” Great. Now I’m hallucinating. This is wonderful.

Who are you??? I scratch onto a sheet of paper.

“Bathroom.” It takes me a second to realize what she said, and I bite back a smile at her genius. Mrs. Yancy always lets kids use the bathroom. I walk up to the table where Mrs. Yancy is sitting.

“Can I use the bathroom?” I pray to God she says yes. God agrees.

“Go.” It almost looks like she’s looking at the invisible girl when she speaks, but that can’t be true… can it? I walk out the door in just shy of a tiptoe. I realize my phone is in my pocket and for some reason that seems important, because the girl looks at it as if it is her lifeline… or mine. Why would I need that? I shrug outwardly, and the girl gives me a weird look. I lock myself in a stall. The girl waltzes through is as if it isn’t even there.

“How’d you—”

“I’m a ghost,” she interrupts, “and I need your help.”

“Help? What do you mean help? I don’t even know your name!”

“My name is Heather Bone.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?” I muse aloud.

“You probably read it in the newspaper. After I died in a fire.”

“So… why are you a ghost?”

“Unfinished business.”

“Oh, I should have guessed. I mean, I’m very well versed in Casper the friendly ghost. Jesus, lady, what the fuck?” She winced as if I hit her.

“Don’t swear.”

“Whatever. Help you how? What’s your ‘unfinished business’?”

“It was not an ordinary fire. Someone caused it.”

“You know who?”

“Derik. He’s this kid… he went to my school… he has black hair with red streaks and one blue eye…”

“And his other eye?”

“It’s red. Like blood. All TSC members have one red eye.”

“TSC? What’s that, a cult?”

“The Shadow Clan. It’s like a hyper-organized cult. That kills people.”

“Sounds fun. And Derik sounds hot.”

“Sure, if you have a fetish for murderers.”

“I gotta go get Silas…”

“Who?”

“My friend.”

“He can’t see me.”

“Who cares? He’s my best - okay, only - friend.”

“You know this organization wants to kill you, right?”

“Not surprised. Why?”

“Because your psychic. You can see ghosts.”

“Even better. Let’s get Silas.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Sadie?” I raise my eyebrows at Heather.

“See? We don’t even have to get him.”

“Sadie! I need permission to come in there!”

“Come in.” He barges through the door and I unlock the stall. “What is it?”

“Mrs. Yancy-” he paused to catch his breath. “-is… chasing… me… with a knife.”

“What?”

“A knife.”

“A knife?”

“Yes, Sadie,” he says exasperatedly. “”A knife. As in, used to chop things. Like us, if we don’t fucking get out of here.”

“Don’t swear,” mutters Heather.

“Don’t be such a goodie two shoes,” I hiss.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’ll explain in a minute. Once we get out of here.”

“Why—” He’s about to say something, probably deep and profound, I’m sure, when there’s a scraping sound that screams in my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“Because Yancy’s out there, genius.”

“Oh.” He looks immediately to the window.

“We gotta break it.”

“Boy, I am not a juvenile delinquent like you are. No thanks.”

“Hey, it’s either face the wrath of the school or face Yance-ster.” I sighed.

“Whatever. Do it then.” He grins in victory, stands on top of a toilet stall to reach the glass, and punches it. His hand bounces off like a rubber ball.

“Shit!” he screeches. I want to laugh, but Mrs. Yancy is still clawing her way through the door with her butcher knife. How the Hell she snuck that through security, I have no idea. He punches the window again, and it cracks.

“Hurry up, Mr. Delinquent.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, “you’re breaking my concentration.” Despite his accusation, he punches the window hard enough to break it.

“Aren’t you glad we brought him?” I whisper to Heather as Silas crawls out the window. She glares at me, but doesn’t answer. “Exactly.”

“Hurry up, slowpoke!” I jump up, just barely reach the window ledge, and my hands slip off.

“I’m shorter than you, dipshit! I can’t reach.” He reaches a hand through the glass.

“You’re lucky we aren’t being pursued by the FBI.”

“We will be, if we aren’t lucky.”

“Which most likely we won’t be.”

“Exactly.” I grab onto his hand and he manages to hoist me out. “Thanks bro.”

“No problem.”

“So now what?”

“Now we run away, genius.”

“I ain’t running.” He grins.

“We don’t have to run.”

“What’re you going to do, hijack a car?”

“I have a car, smartass.”

“You have a car?”

“Lady, of course I have a car. I’m responsible.”

“Tell that to your grades.” He hops into a beat up pickup truck, ignoring me.

“I call shotgun!” I scream. Heather sat in the back. I wondering if she’d fall out, given that she went through things and all.

“So… who were you talking to?”

“Brace yourself, because this is going to sound downright insane.”

“You already are insane, Sadie.”

“Shush. Anyway, I was talking to a ghost. Her name is Heather. We have to avenge her somehow.”

“That sounds… nice.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“I know. That’s what’s freaky. I’m not saying you’re seeing things or anything, it’s just… wow.”

“My life in a nutshell.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s currently sitting in the backseat.”

“Well, tell her not to get ectoplasm everywhere.” Heather rolled her eyes.

“Dude. I’m not from freaking Ghostbusters.”

“She says she’s not from Ghostbusters.”

“Well, good for her. I don’t want shit in my car.”

“It’s a little late for that. I mean, you have a good little Christian ghost, a juvenile delinquent dumbass, and me.”

“What are you?”

“A psychic weirdo.”

“Makes sense. So Heather is a good little Christian girl?”

“Well, she gets pissed at me for saying the f-word.”

“Yeah, okay. Seems legit. Well, now I know you’re not making it up.”

“How?”

“Because there is nothing good or Christian about you,” he cracked.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“I’m a very funny person.”

“Obviously.”

“Guys-” Heather starts in alarm.

“Holy sh-” Silas swerved to avoid the kid standing in front of the car. “Man, what the fuck?”

“That’s Derik,” Heather noted.

“That’s the dude we have to kill,” I muttered. “Look, guys. I’m going out there.”

“You’re what?” demands Heather and Silas at the same time.

“I’m going to talk to him.”

“About what?”

“About… I don’t know.”

“Wonderful.” I couldn’t tell if Heather said it, or Silas. Maybe both. I get out of the car.

“Hey, man. Sorry I almost ran you over.”

“It’s fine.” He stared at me as if I was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen.

“Okay. So, you lost or something?” Heather comes up behind me.

“No, I’m just… on a walk.” I almost laughed at him. I wanted to scream at him that I knew what he had done; I wanted to scream that he was crazy, that he deserved to die… but I didn’t.

“Well, see ya round, I guess.”

“Yeah.” He gave a little nervous laugh. I turned and walked back to the car, and the whole way back I felt his eyes on my back, and part of me was scared that he was going to stab me, but I made it into the car safely. 

“Seriously though, what did you hope to accomplish with that suicidal trick?” Silas asks me as he starts the car.

“I dunno.” I shrug. “He looks hot.”

“You’re hopeless.” He slams his foot on the gas pedal and drives forward.

“Where are we going?” asks Heather.

“Where’re we goin’?” I relay to Silas.

“I dunno. Just driving around, I guess.” I’m struck by a pang of guilt. My dad’s probably worried sick.

“Uh…”

“What?” He looks at me without stopping the car and for a second I can’t answer because I’m too scared we’re going to crash.

“Uh, can we go see my dad?”

“You suck at being a fugitive, but fine.” He swerved a corner, finally looking back to the front.

“Fuck! Man, drive safely.” He smirks. Heather winces in the backseat.

“I’m a troublemaker. I don’t do safe.”

“Just please don’t kill me, kay?”

“Sigh. I guess I won’t.”

“Psycho.”

“Weirdo.”

“Guys, focus,” Heather yells. I wonder if she knows Silas can’t hear her. She probably does. Maybe she’s just talking to talk. I do that a lot, too.

“We’ve arrived.” I take a deep breath and jump out of the car before I lose my nerve. I press the doorbell with more force than is necessary. 

Ding-dong. My dad cracks open the door.

“Sadie where the- Where’d you go? Where’ve you been? Jesus Christ, I was worried sick!”

“Sorry, Dad. I was kind of busy, I mean…”

“What?”

“Uh, Mrs. Yancy tried to kill me and Silas, and I’m seeing ghosts. So how was your night? Besides worrying about me?”

“Fine, thanks,” he says distantly.

“Please don’t call me crazy…”

“He’s psychic too, Einstein,” Heather mutters behind me.

“Wha-?” I whisper, almost unconsciously.

“The dead girl is right,” my dad says.

“Holy- Silas!” I turn towards my dad. “Bye! I’ll be back! Soon, I hope…” My dad smiles without happiness.

“Be safe.”

“I’m a troublemaker. I don’t do safe,” I whispered under my breath. He didn’t hear me.

“Why were you yelling at me?” Silas asks.

“My fucking dad is psychic! Like, holy what?” (Insert Heather wincing.)

“Your dad can see Heather?”

“Yup.”

“I feel very left out.”

“Lucky you. Seriously.”

“Yeah, yeah. So anyway, what’s Heather look like? Is she hot?”

“You have a one track mind, Silas.”

“Yup. So is she?”

“I don’t know. Sure.”

“Does she have big boobs?”

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Heather moans.

“I decline to comment on her boob size. The conversation is over.” Silas chuckles.

“Thank God,” Heather whispers.

“Be careful, Heather. Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” I warn in a teasing voice.

“Shut up, Sadie.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Silas mocked in a singsong voice. Heather starts muttering, probably a prayer for both me and Silas to die in a tragic accident. Maybe Derik would kill us.

Bad Sadie, I scold my imagination. Stop scaring yourself.

My imagination doesn’t listen.

#DeathSquad

At this point, Sadie is asleep, I can’t see Heather, I’m hungry, and I’m basically alone in the car. I really, really, really want a nice burger from Burger King.

But I have no money. What’s a juvenile delinquent to do? And yes, I am a juvenile delinquent. I got arrested in fifth grade for… I don’t remember, actually. Probably something stupid like stealing from the candy store. Who doesn’t steal from the candy store? I mean, we all like candy. What’s better than candy? Candy that you don’t have to pay money for. Especially when it’s against the law. That just makes it better.

Yeah, fifth grade was great. (Totally not, by the way.)

Anyway, I’m hungry and moneyless. And I just so happen to drive past this great looking burger place.

Cue kleptomania. I really, really want a burger. I pull into the parking lot and try very hard not to wake Sadie up, but Heather must have yelled at her. Fuck that damned ghost.

“Silas, please tell me you weren’t going to rob a Shake n Steak?”

“I was going to rob a Steak n Shake, not a Shake n Steak.”

“Whatever. Shakes are better than steaks. The best comes first. It’s just logic, man. They named the place wrong.”

“Whatever.”

“You are not robbing a restaurant.”

“But I want food!”

“So do it the responsible way. Let’s get money from my mom.” I raised my eyebrows.

“She’ll just give you money?”

“Nope. We’re gonna steal some. She ain’t home, and I got her keys.”

“Very responsible. I like the way you think.” I smirked.

“Knew you would. I’m gonna stop calling you Mr. Delinquent and start calling you Mr. Kleptomaniac.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t offend the Christian in the room.”

“Fuck the Christian in the room. I want food.”

“Fine, Fine. Let’s go.” I stepped on the gas and instantly slammed on the brakes again.

“Holy shit, does this kid have a death wish or what? Tell him to shove his pride up his ass and stop trying to get run over!” Sadie rolls down the window.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she says. “Sorry for almost running you over again.”

“I wish you had,” it sounds like he mutters. It seems like Sadie didn’t hear him. “No problem,” he says louder. Sadie rolls the window back up and waits for him to walk away before speaking, just in case he can read lips. Her face is a mixture of terror and terror. Oh wait, those are the same thing. Basically, she’s terrified.

“He’s stalking us, man. He’s f— he’s stalking us. Jesus.” Her eyes are wide like a deer in headlights. My eyes are probably just as wide.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper.

“It doesn’t matter, he’ll find us.”

“Well, we can try.”

“Why are we whispering?”

“It’s a fear thing.”

“Oh, okay. Then step on the damn gas pedal and get us out of here!”

#DeathSquad

If they weren’t suspicious before, they most definitely are now. The boss is going to kill me.

So why do I feel like this is a good thing? Maybe it’s because, unlike the people that surround me, I have a goddamn moral compass? Why is that so hard to find these days?

Good God, I’m fucked. Time to go see Mr. Boss, the almighty and royally fucked up man who governs my every move. As if that isn’t enough, the universe decided that HA HA HA he’s my dad, too.

The Heathrow line of psychics is one of the more powerful ones around here. That’s why he wants me to kill Sadie so badly.

Well, I’m sick of it. Do I have the courage to tell him that? No. But am I going to kill anyone else, no matter what they do to my mind? Hell no.

And I know there’s only one way to end this.

But it’s not time for that yet. Not until I’m sure Sadie and… what’s the ghost’s name? Heather or Lilac or something like that. Some weird flower name. And her friend, who almost ran me over twice. Man, I really wish he hadn’t stopped the car. Just ran me over and driven away without a second glance. I’d be dead, and they wouldn’t have to be running so much. Everyone knows I’m The Shadow Clan’s best tracker. That’s why (lucky me) I was chosen for this God forsaken job. I love how that’s what we call it. Job. Killing people just because they see ghosts and it’s just “job”.

No one ever stops to wonder why we kill. They just mindlessly follow orders.

I mean, how could they not? They’re fucking mind controlled for God’s sake.

I’ve been trained since… eight, I think… to hunt down people who see ghosts. To hunt psychics. That’s all I’ve known since eight, and I’m sixteen now. Half my life I’ve been trained to kill, and the other half I barely remember.

Other than one thing.

My mother. Not the stepmom I have now who hates my guts, the one that gave birth to me.

When I was eight, she went to the grocery store, and she never came back.

A psychic killed her.

My dad was… I don’t know, exactly. He got crazy. He cultivated in me a belief that psychics are evil. So it started small at first, right? But then he gained followers. People - you know the type, the kind that hate everyone who’s different - those people followed him.

And then some nutcase teacher joined up, Mrs. Yancy. She’s the one who really started the problem.

She’s the one who suggested we start killing. She’s the one who governs the mind control business, although I don’t know how. She’s the one who decided we use kids to kill. She’s the one who branded us with a red eye. And no, I never knew it was possible to change your eye color. But you can, and it hurts like Hell.

So now you have thirty or so kids with red eyes who kill people. That doesn’t sound easy to hide from the police.

Solution? Infiltrate the police, get them on our side.

God, sometimes I hate having a free mind. It hurts to think about my life too much.

I push open the door to our “secret base”, an abandoned shack passing for a house in the middle of a neighborhood.

It’s not really much of a house anymore. Moldy books pollute the floor, because everyone’s too lazy or disgusted to pick them up. And then we enter the living room, a.k.a. the throne room, and it’s spotless.

Okay, it would be spotless, if you ignore the loveseat in the corner, worn and faded, surrounded by empty bottles, and in it sits the worlds most crazy slob.

My dad. The boss. Mr. Crazy Ass Motherfucker. It doesn’t matter what you call him, he only answers to one name. Boss.

“Hi, Dad.”

#DeathSquad

“You’re late.”

“Hello to you too. Yeah, I’m late.”

“Are you sassing me?” He says it in such a harsh tone that I almost flinch. I know I should flinch, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Yes, I am. Is there a problem.” There’s now a crowd around us. My dad can’t show weakness towards his son. There’s already talk of favoritism.

If only they knew what goes on behind those tightly shut, locked, and probably soundproofed doors. They’d never say that bullshit again.

“Hell yeah there’s a problem! Sadie Heathrow still isn’t dead!”

“So?”

“So you were supposed to kill her!” He explodes. The crowd backs up a step, all in one fluid motion. Even though I’m surrounded by people, it feels like I am alone with my dad. And I don’t like being alone with my dad. I can’t help it. I shudder. This causes me to get embarrassed, and I look down.

The crowd disperses, and I really am alone with my dad now. His stone glare could freeze Hell.

“Derik, I swear to God-”

“No. You don’t swear to God anymore. You’ve signed your fucking life over to the devil.”

“I’m righteous,” he hisses.

“Righteous my ass.”

“Don’t talk that way to me.” He gets out of the chair.

“I’m amazed your legs are holding up, Grandpa.”

“SHUT UP!” He slaps my face with the force of a tractor. He slaps me so hard that my usually superior balance fails me and I fall over. Now I’ll have a bruise on my ass as well as my face. I close my eyes and brace myself for another hit, maybe to the face again.

But instead I get kicked in the balls by a five hundred pound man.

Let me tell you, that does not feel good. But I learned crying never helps, I learned that when my stepmom arrived.

Okay, so my dad was a wreck after my mom died. Sure, he forced her to do all kinds of stuff, like have me at age sixteen, but that’s what love is, right?

My stepmom was his recovery. He found her behind a dumpster at a bar, crying about her husband cheating on her.

Yep, it was love at first sight. It makes it even better that she’s a bitch who hates my guts.

“Hello, Derik.” Her cool voice rings evenly in my ears. I touch my forehead and my fingers come away red. This is not going to end well. Either I’ll pass out and be beaten to death, or I’ll manage to stay conscious long enough to be beaten to death. I’m not sure which is worse. Her voice makes me flinch every time I hear it, but not this time. This time I blink the red haze off my eyes and stare into her coal black eyes.

“You’re a bitch, you know that, Raina?” She twists my wrist and I try to ignore the sound of cracking. My bones aren’t broken yet, she’s just stretching me out.

“What did you say?” she asks, to which the right answer is “Nothing.” And to which my answer is

“You’re a bitch.” I say it because I know she won’t break my hand. Only my pinky. My pinky is crooked because of all the times she’s broken it before.

“My name isn’t Raina, you ungrateful bastard. I’m your mom now.” Don’t remind me, I want to say, but the pain in my finger is beginning to bother me.

Snap.

#DeathSquad

“Okay, we need a plan.” Me and Sadie are conversing between mouthfuls of burgers.

“Okay, so let’s crash at my house.”

“Which one?”

“Not funny.” She glares at me. She really doesn’t like me bringing up the fact that her parents are divorced. “You know which house I go to.”

“How’s your brother doing?”

“I don’t know. I never see him.” Her voice gets quiet for only an instant, and I decided to shut up. She probably misses her brother. I know how that feels. “Anyway. We crash at my dad’s.”

“Okay.”

“Yes, my parents are divorced, Heather! Jesus!” Sadie snapped.

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” I whispered with an evil smile.

“Be quiet, Silas.”

“Okay.” My hands go up in mock surrender.

“Drive me to my father’s house, please.”

“I love how you’re pretending to be nice.”

“I’m very good at being nice. But I’m also very good at kicking you in the balls.” I get up and start walking to the car.

“That was a cleverly veiled threat.”

“Thanks. Now get me the fuck out of here.”

“It’s be my pleasure, ma’am.”

“Just drive!”

“Okay, okay, fine. Jesus lady. Calm down.”

“I’m being stalked by an incredibly hot guy who wants to kill me. I’m not going to be ‘calm’, okay?”

“And you say I’m the one with a one track mind,” I snicker. “Okay.”

#DeathSquad

They don’t even bother putting my broken pinky in a brace. It’s just left to heal on its own. Currently, it looks like I’m double jointed. I attempt to straighten it out and bite back a scream of agony. Christ, that fucking hurts, but I manage to get it into a semi-straight position. I look around my room. There’s nothing, literally nothing, that I could use to brace it. Damn. I have to settle for a broken popsicle stick and duct tape.

“Son, what are you doing?”

“Oh, so I’m son now?”

“Watch your mouth, you spoiled brat.”

“You’re the spoiled person in the room.”

“I’ll teach you a lesson about spoiled you—” He raises his hand threateningly and I flinch. He never finishes the sentence, only glares at me in satisfaction. Damn it. I flinched. My flinching seems to give him all he needs and he leaves the room. I watch the door warily for a moment, waiting for him to come back and beat me twice as hard, but he doesn’t.

And I make a decision.

There is a window that doesn’t shut right in my room. It’s been that way forever, even way back when this house wasn’t a wreck and wasn’t home to thirty plus kids, only a family. My family, back when it wasn’t busted up and crazy and- and anything. It was just a normal family.

Now? I don’t even know if my dad is a dad anymore. He’s just a boss.

“Hasta la vista, motherfucker.” I whisper to the door, imagining my dad behind it. No one hears it but me. I push open the door and wince at the slight groaning noise it makes. No one comes in. I take one glance around my trashed room before leaving. I don’t look back after that. I won’t miss the place. Too many awful things happened in there for me to ever miss it. But I know that I’ll never forget it.

It’s very cold outside in November. This I learn as I step outside. I am wearing long sleeves and pants, at least, but with no actual jacket aside from a ten year old sweatshirt, it makes little difference. I have to find Sadie. I have to tell them what’s going on, if they don’t know already. I’ll tell them where Shadow Clan’s base is. I can at least do that before… nevermind. I have to focus. The last time I saw them was at that burger place, so maybe I should start there. Maybe that is where they are now, but if they aren’t I’ll at least be able to pick up a trail. The burger diner isn’t far, only about five miles. I can cover that in a half an hour. I just hope I manage to reach them before anyone else does. Jesus, that would be bad. I have to hurry. Maybe if I push myself, I can get there in twenty-five minutes.

I get there in twenty four. The diner is closed, which I expected, but I can figure out approximately where they went from here.

Man, who am I kidding? There’s no way I’ll get there in time. I mean, there’s no point in really trying. My dad has a car. If he’s desperate, he’ll drive. He can get to wherever they are in minutes, whereas I could take hours. As soon as he figures out I’m missing, he’ll go after them.

It’s time to find a shortcut. I’ve found their trail now. I can smell like a bloodhound.

My dad says it’s a family gift. He has no idea.

See, my dad hates psychics because one killed my mom. He has no idea that his grandma (long dead, I think) was a psychic. He has no idea that psychic lines are passed down through families, usually skipping a generation. He has no idea that I am psychic. That’s why I feel like even more of a despicable person. Not only am I a killer, I’m practically killing my own blood. What kind of person does that? It doesn’t matter if I was controlled, I should have been able to fight it, somehow… Why couldn’t I be like those kids who enjoyed killing, and just didn’t question it? Why couldn’t I be like that? My life would be easier, and maybe my pinky wouldn’t have been broken so many times.

Where could Sadie have gone? At this point I’m running on guesses. I doubt she’s gone to her house, but at least her dad is there. Maybe I can explain to him what’s going on and get his help. My running now has a destination, so I run faster. I know where I’m going. Sadie’s house isn’t far from TSC. Basically, I wasted thirty minutes coming to this diner. Why can’t I use my brain?

Another forty five minutes lost before I get to Sadie’s house. There is no car in the driveway so I already know her and Silas aren’t here. But her dad is. The lights are on in the house. I make sure to flip my black hair over my red eye so that he can’t see it, and then ring the doorbell. He answers almost immediately, obviously hoping I’m Sadie, and his face falls when he sees me.

“Who are you? Isn’t it a little late for selling things.”

“I’m not here to sell things. My name is Derik. Let me help you.” He almost slams the door on me but I keep it from shutting with my arm.

“What do you want? I don’t need any help.”

“You might not, but Sadie does.”

“Alright, Derik. Come in. But you have some serious explaining to do.” He walks inside and I follow him hesitantly. I’ve never been let in to a house before. I’ve either had to break in, let myself in, or I’ve been kicked out. Sometimes all of the above. “What do you mean, Sadie needs help? Is she in trouble?”

“Not yet. Well, sort of. But not yet. She has at least till sunrise if she and Silas don’t do anything stupid.”

“And what makes you think you can help?”

“I know where TSC is.”

“TSC?”

“The Shadow Clan. It’s an evil organization dedicated to killing psychics and currently, it’s targeting your family. Mainly, Sadie.”

“Why us?”

“Because you, Mr. Heathrow, and Sadie are both part of an extremely long and powerful line of psychics.”

“So they know about me, too? How do you know all this?”

“Um… because I’m part of it.” His eyes widen and he looks frozen in place, torn between whether to face me bare handed (not a good idea) or shoot me (also not a good idea).

“Say what now?”

“Okay, I used to be a part of it. I quit-” I look at the clock “-an hour and a half ago.” I hope Sadie and Silas are still alive. I hope I’ve moved quickly enough. “And you might want to call and tell them to come home. Like now.”

“How do they know everything about us?”

“They’ve been monitoring you for two years, learning your schedule.”

“And how’d they do that without being noticed?”

“You know Mrs. Yancy?”

“Yes.”

“You know she’s displayed a lot of interest in Sadie, right?”

“Right.”

“And you know she keeps her after school a lot of the time, right?”

“Right.”

“That means that not only does she know where Sadie is, at virtually all times, she also knows what you look like, what your car looks like, and your license plate number.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly. Now suppose she’s part of an evil organization. Which she is. Now imagine that another member of this organization tracks your car down. That person can find out where you live, where you work, how old you are, and a whole host of other things. It’s amazing what a license plate can do.”

“Um… wow, okay. I’m going to have to change my plate more often.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Is Sadie on her way?” He looks down at his phone.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t replied yet. Is that bad?”

“Depends. Probably not.”

“Probably?”

“Well, if you were a kidnapper, and you were planning on kidnapping and killing someone, you’d want to text something back, like “Oh I’m going to be at someone’s house for the night.” That way, you don’t have people looking for you until the next day, plenty of time to get out.

“Oh! She replied. She says she’s coming home soon.”

“That’s good.”

The doorbell rings.

“Okay, she said soon, but Jesus Christ that was fast.”

“I’ll look and see who it is.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I got up and walked to the door and looked outside. To anyone else, the kid at the door would look like an innocent girl selling Girl Scout cookies. But she’s not. Her name is Sara. She’s a member of TSC.

Fuck. We’re screwed now. I open the door.

“Hi, Sara.”

“Derik? What are you doing here?”

“The business here is done. Go find another job.”

“But-”

“Sara. Please. Do me this favor.”

“Okay…” I slam the door.

“Not Sadie. But I dealt with it. It’s fine now.”

“Okay.” I am just turning from the door when it rings again. This time, it is Sadie.

“Uh… I think you should answer this.”

“Why?”

“Because… Sadie and Silas and the ghost they’re with kind of want to… kill me?” Sadie’s dad gets up with a sigh.

“I’m coming.” I retreat to the couch, out of sight of the doorway.

“I’m home,” I hear Sadie say. “What is it, Dad?”

“Follow me.” Mr. Heathrow leads Sadie, Silas, and Heather into the room.

Sadie stops. Heather walks through her and stops. Silas stops.

“Hi, y’all.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sadie demands. Heather winces.

“Uh… it’s kind of a long story, but I’m here to help.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sadie says bitingly. “You going to kill us? Is that the help?”

“No, I’m going to-” I am interrupted by someone breaking down the door.

“Shit!” Silas screams. He’s the closest to the door, so he sees the gun before we do.

“Screw you, Sara,” I whisper under my breath. “You’re going to pay for this.” A shot goes through Heather and hits the wall. This person also has horrible aim (I’m assuming they weren’t aiming for Heather, because she’s a ghost).

“Let’s get out of here!” I yell.

“Is this your fault?” Silas demands.

“No! Well, sort of… but-”

“Just get out, geniuses!” Sadie screeches.

We run for the door. Shots embed themselves in the walls on either side of us, and even the door in front of us.

I’m the first one to get shot.

“Ah, fuck!” Pain explodes up my calf. “Damn it damn it ow that fuckin’ hurts. Jesus Christ!” I kept running even though every step felt like my last. Silas and Sadie, to my surprise, double back. That is a really stupid thing to do, I think. Run while you can, you noble idiots!

The gunman reached our party of four. I realize with surprise and relief that I know who it is.

“Tobi. Dude. You know me. Please man, don’t shoot us. Let me talk, kay?”

“Derik? What the- never mind. Start talking.”

“I know you shot at Heather.”

“Who?”

“The blonde one.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And it went through her.”

“Right.”

“Because she’s a ghost. And you, my dear friend, are psychic.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly. So help us out and don’t shoot us- or, don’t shoot us again.” He looked down at my leg.

“Sorry, mate.”

“No problem.” I wince. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” I can feel Sadie looking at my broken pinky. “See you soon, Tobi.”

“Yeah.” He walks out the door with the gun over his shoulder. My calf is bleeding badly, and I hope that if The Shadow Clan decides to check out the scene, they’ll assume we’re dead, but I know I’m not that lucky.

“We should get you to a hospital,” Sadie says. “And what happened to your pinky?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you on the way to the hospital.”

“If you get blood on my fucking seats I’ll kill you,” Silas mutters. Sadie glares at him.

“Okay, I’ll grab you a towel,” she says to me. I nod in appreciation. She nods back. Heather is looking at me with a mixture of fear, apprehension, and hate. I really can’t blame her. I hate myself too. But it’ll all be over soon. I just need to get them the address of my house. It’s not a home. It never was, even when my mom was alive. It was merely a place I had to be, like school or the dentist.

“Right. Let’s go,” Heather says as Sadie comes downstairs. Her voice is hard. Why is Sadie being so nice to me? She has nothing to gain from it, so why would she? What’s the point of helping a murderer, a stalker like me?

“Get in the car,” she says to me.

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because I don’t give a fuck what anyone else says. You’re not evil.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Just get in the car!” I get in the car.

#DeathSquad

Great. I’m stuck next to my bleeding out murderer while we drive him to the hospital. And yes, I am ticked off. Why are we helping him? He killed me! I think about complaining, but I decide not to because it won’t matter. Sadie is definitely set on her opinion. She’s arguing with Silas about it, even. There’s no hope for convincing her that Derik is evil. I purposely avoid looking at him.

“So,” he says loudly. “This is awkward. Wasn’t I supposed to tell a story?”

“What happened to your pinky?” Sadie asks

“Oh. My stepmom broke it because I didn’t want to kill people.” Silas snorted.

“Seems legit.”

“She’s broken it five times before today.” I wonder if he’s telling the truth. I look at him. His eyes are honest, but that doesn’t really mean anything. Maybe he’s just good at hiding. Still… there’s something about the way he said it that makes me believe him. It almost felt like he thought like it was normal for parents to break fingers. Like it was nothing special.

“What else did your stepmom do?” I asked, quietly.

“Oh, nothing much. It was more of my dad.”

“What do your dad do?” Silence for a long minute. A very long minute. I got the feeling he didn’t want to talk. “Never mind.”

“No, no it’s fine. He just beat me.”

“Why are we whispering?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Silas can’t see or hear me. I don’t want to make Sadie feel weird.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be caught talking to invisible people. It’ll make me look bad.” I smiled despite myself.

“You know, if you weren’t a murderer, maybe we could have been friends.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’d just ignore me and go on living your life, the way you were supposed to.”

“Or maybe we’d be friends.”

“But we’re not. And we can’t be.” His face seems to get darker.

“So. Why are you helping us?”

“I quit Shadow Clan.”

“So why help us when you could just be living a nice, average life on the run?”

“I’m assuming that was sarcasm. Honestly, I don’t know. I guess it’s nice to help people for a change.”

“Why did you kill? It doesn’t seem like you want to.”

“I don’t. I was forced to.”

“Forced how?”

“Well, it was kill or be killed, but, that’s not really it either.”

“So then what is it?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

“I’m serious.”

“I think Mrs. Yancy - you know her, right? Creepy ass math teacher who tried to kill Sadie?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I have sources. Anyway, I think she can control people. Kids. Kids within TSC.”

“Jesus.” My whisper drops even lower. He lowers his head.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m still a killer.” He stares straight ahead and doesn’t say another word.

#DeathSquad