GoodBye—Post Malon Ft Young Thug

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Morning. December 23rd, Monday

THE NORTH WIND HAD covered the ground with white the snow, piled high round ancient-looking tree trunks in the neighbors' yards, their tall branches fanned out like scarecrow fingers. Snow crunched under Erik Laurence's foot as he stepped out of Joel Whitefield's tiny white Kia.

As they drove through the city, he took note of the snow-capped mountains, here, though, little white flurries danced in the breeze. The intoxicating aroma of burning wood sent shivers of delight dancing up his spine, and he thought how good it felt to be home.

As Erik looked over his family's home, he saw smoke pouring out of the three chimneys, with a flick of his eye, he noted that his bedrooms' fireplace had been lit from the smoke that rolled off the chimney. Home. A three-story house with a wraparound deck, the foursquare-style house fit like a glove in the gated community.

"Mercer, an out of state U.S Marshal, has been identified as the as the victim," The news came out garbled, the anchor regurgitating the most recent development in the high-profile case.

"Asking for any known details of the victim, anything that will help. The police are calling it a copycat of the Jump rope murder from Massachusetts in 2004 and have not commented further on the details. A local," Erik turned down the radio as he unhooked his phone from the charger, Joel slapped his hand and turned it up.

"Ston has agreed to cooperate with the—" Joel scowled at Erik as he cranked the nob until the radio was off. "Help me with my luggage," Erik ordered and straightened.

"Do you have guests staying over? Or maybe they're just warming it up for you?" Joel asked, practical as ever, grabbing bags out of the trunk and holding them out to Erik, who looked quizzical. For a moment Joel caught him eyeing the bags as if he were surprised that Joel expected Erik to take them from his hands.

"Won't you take the bags?" Joel asked in a strained voice, exasperatedly holding heavy bags. "I've got a dinner date," He said as he shoved his sleeve back to check his watch. Erik put a hand to his lips in thought, still staring at the luggage and concluded something had to be done.

"I think not," Erik said in a hesitant voice as if it troubled his soul deeply.

"Always have to be an emperor, don't you?" Joel said in an annoyed voice, hefting the bags over his shoulder.

"To the door, cabby," was Erik's only reply as he walked on ahead. They chattered until Joel shut the car door.

Joel was a friend of the family who lived in the Tri-cities, and they had attended the same university, and after graduation. They had just come off a long flight from Boston, Massachusetts for a university class reunion function, he had driven Erik home from the airport on his way home. He stared at the bags he had dropped on the front steps of the house and rolled down the passenger window and said, "See you, bromie."

"Tell your Mum it was a pleasure to see her again, and that the reunion went well," Erik said in a deep voice, kicking the door with his snowy boot tip.

Erik felt in his blue Abercrombie and Fitch hoodie for his house keys as he walked up the steps to the front door and scooped up his bags and noticed an innocent small white slip of paper held down by a smooth round pebble. He picked it up and sighed as the door closed behind him.

"I'm home," He called, but he got no response. "Parents? Twins?" He tried again in a thinner voice, straining his arms free of his coat, at last, he tossed his keys into a bowl on a table near a coat rack and laid his pack by the door; the essence of burning wood made him smile.

Apparently, he thought, they all died in his absence.

His slippers clacked against the kitchen tiles, went through cabinets, and selected a mug. Just then, he remembered the report on the radio, had she not said Boston, Massachusetts? The very same that he had just come from in the bloody cold. He would do well to ask his father about it if it ever came up.

He got a funny feeling that someone had walked up behind him, instead of turning to see who, he walked over to the stove and turned off the whistling teapot. "Ah, back already are we, princeling? Good to see you. How was Boston?" From behind him, Erik heard Will, one of his younger brothers.

"Weather was nice, nicer than I remembered. The reunion went well. Man, I've aged, I looked old compared to the guys. How's you? What's everyone got up to?" Erik asked as he gave him a stern look. Will was closer to Erik's height but still shorter. They could not look anymore unrelated, and when they were younger, Erik had even lied to Will that he and his twin, Alec, had been adopted because of their difference in appearance.

He smiled fondly at the memory. Nope, still didn't feel bad, he thought.

"Thirty is a beautiful age, isn't it?" Will said in a childish voice, grinning as Erik scowled at him.

"That is a distasteful comment. How's everyone been getting on, then?" Erik asked in a neutral voice, putting his drinks from the road into the sleek black fridge.

"Well, for the most part. Been lonely and confused without you, we were lost without the dictatorship of our emperor, really," Will said in a sarcastic voice, crinkling the plastic bags Erik left on the floor.

Erik grinned, only slightly amused. His mind roamed to the curvaceous body of a coworker he had missed. "Really? Watch how I cleverly pretend to miss those remarks." Will poured steaming water into the cups and became quiet? "Tracy came round last night, looking for you," Will added in muted tones.

Erik leaned against the counter, his black curls falling over his eyes, and squinted in thought. "Does Dad know?" He asked, mildly concerned. Will shook his head, watching his brother sceptically.

"Just make sure Mom doesn't find out. You know how they hate us messing with the nurses, mixing work and hook-ups," Will said, there was something in his voice that irked Erik and he put up a warning finger. "Don't," He said, turning his head slightly. "Shut up."

"Rik, it has been two years, you have to let her go. Tracy is a fine girl, but she won't replace‒" Erik stopped Will with one look, Will bit the inside of his cheek but did not back down.

"Besides," Erik said in a lighter voice, cradling his mug in anticipation of the sweet juice. "Don't make me go emo on you. Everybody put up your hands," He belted in a wobbly voice, mock-singing the words to Will.

Wow, this trip really was good for him, Will thought in bewilderment. "You are not going to like what I have to tell you," Will said, looking as if he shot himself.

"Why won't I? Now, Will, there is no need for you to back away for me. I changed your nappies, I wiped your bum, you do not need to be afraid of me," Erik said in a chipper voice, smiling at his own humour.

"Well, it is like this, see," Will started in as Erik poured them coffee, Erik's eyes grew larger by the second. "And she has not woken up yet."

"Wait—what? Who, Elle or Mum?" Erik's eyes lit up with fear, he was thrown off guard by the news, anxiety gripping his steady nerves. Why had no one told him, had anyone tried getting a hold of him? "Where is she, man? What's her condition—critical? Well?" He blurted, wanting to bolt for the door. "is it serious?"

Will watched Erik flap his arms like Foghorn Leghorn for a good few seconds before stopping him, putting a hand on Erik's forearm, simultaneously reaching for his head. "I can't believe this," He mumbled.

"Are you sick too?" Erik asked in a concerned voice, he bent in front of Will and tried to brace his head while he checked the eyes. Frustrated, Will smacked Erik's hands away and glared. "No, I am fine," He said at length, peeved. "Okay, then what?" Erik asked.

"Mum and Dad lied to me, they said you knew and sent me down here to greet you. I walked right into their little game," He said tiredly, rubbing his forehead.

"Will, I am not going to eat you," Erik said, at last, watching Will carefully.

"No? How do you feel about ginger?" Will asked dryly, it elicited a blank expression from Erik, Will had gone from gruntled to disgruntled in a manner of seconds. "You might as well know, I'm talking about the girl," Will said, burning his mouth on the steaming coffee. Erik blinked at him.

"By the by, have you seen the news lately? Seattle is ridden hard and put down wet with all of the killings," Erik said in a somewhat relieved voice, waving Will off impatiently. Scratching his throat, Will leaned against the counter, and let out a deep chuckle.

"Llama, that's 'ridden hard and put away wet,' they didn't die," Will said in a funny voice, Erik cringed at the insensitive use of his childhood nickname. Every one of his siblings had an animal nickname and all his life, Erik hated him with a passion. Llama, Erik thought to himself as he dumped in the creamer sourly, blowing air out of his mouth.

"NSK? Yeah, we've been hit hard with all of it at work. More drills and safety training," Will said in a concerned voice, slowly shoving himself off the counter. "Have there been any breakthroughs?" Will asked offhandedly. Erik fiddled with the rim of his shirt and glanced up at Will through his dark curls.

"Unfortunately, none of the polices' interviews have led to anything," Erik said, mentally calculating Will's evasive attitude. As Erik eyed Will suspiciously, Will left the conversation there and turned on his heels.

Will, tray in hand, was more than halfway up the grand staircase when Erik called him back into the kitchen. "Wait," Erik said slowly, he pursed his lips and arched an eyebrow sceptically. "What girl?"

Erik looked quizzically at Will; his tall, decently handsome young brother had grown up since he had seen him. Erik burned holes into Will's caramel brown eyes, Will laughed awkwardly and ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair. Will and his twin, Alec, looked nothing like Erik. Will was a decent two inches shorter, Erik preferred it that way.

"You'll know soon enough," Will said in a teasing voice, an unintentional hint of something Erik couldn't discern in Will's eyes. Erik, stirring his steaming mug, looked as bemused as he felt.

"Why do you look like that? You have a talent for making suspense out of a water leak." Erik said, working himself up faster as the minutes ticked by; meanwhile, Will was checking his phone to see if it was the right moment to bring Erik into the circle of information. Will balanced the tray on his left palm, and he figured it would be better for Erik to find out in a roundabout way what with his explosive temper.

Erik was following him, too curious to ask. As he climbed the dark wood stairs, Erik keenly felt something suspicious—but, where was he? He had forgotten about the note he had found. Erik looked at Will halfway up the steps and pulled the letter from his pocket. Probably it was a note from someone on the block or even his family, strange, though, that they would leave a note. Curious, he opened it, he was not religious, but that did not hinder him from taking it as a bad omen.

I see you

"Erik, your diva; get the door," Came Will's irritated voice ahead of him.

Erik turned to the first door on his right and opening it for Will, who accepted the help gratefully, closed it behind himself. Everyone but his mother was in the library, deep in conversation that must have been incredibly stimulating, until they saw Erik with his cup.

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The cosy room had Ellen Laurence's heady scent, Erik's older sister, or at least of the signature scent that she used, Calvin Klein Euphoria or something. As Erik slowly walked through the dark wood frame, he set his piping mug down and shoved his cold hands in his dark jeans' pockets and out of the nippy cold.

For a moment, he stood awkwardly in the door, running a finger over his chapped lips in thought, shifting weight uncomfortably. He waited a decent amount of time, sending his sister telepathic signals.

As if on cue, Ellen turned round to see him, her radiant smile seemed, and her brilliant green eyes kept that gleam, Erik felt his stark demeanour fall.

Erik felt a long breath escape his lips and leant against the door frame, keenly aware as someone poured themselves through the door. Erik looked up and, for the first time in quite a while, saw Alec accept a green piping hot mug from his replica, Will.

Erik's steely green eyes shifted to an older man; he had time enough to form a solid explanation. "Well?" Erik asked in an eager voice, lifting his chin as he stared down at his father.

"Now, son, that isn't a proper way to greet anyone—least of all family," Montgomery said in a deep, thickly accented voice, catching Erik's expression as he struggled to maintain his impassiveness. "You see, a few of us were out, and one thing led to another and, well," As Montgomery spoke, he garnered a confused, eyebrow raised look from Erik.

"I helped a girl out of a certain situation," Montgomery said, regretting his decisions about remodelling their guest bedroom. Erik gave his father a passive expression, prompting him. Montgomery rubbed his face and looked up at the ceiling.

"What? The girl was mugged, but the bloke ran off, said she needed a place to recoup. Was I supposed to say no? The girl can't be more than seventeen; what's the harm?" Montgomery said, it clearly was not up for debate.

"The harm? Dad, it does a lot of harm, do you know who she is?" Will interrupted, ignoring Erik's sudden attention turn on him. Montgomery sighed and dipped his head, glancing at Ellen for assistance. "Go on, tell him the best part," Ellen said in an excited voice, glancing at Erik.

"She said something about the federal bureau losing track of her when there was a sudden break-in at the hotel she was staying at; someone had followed her—presumably, the people that mugged her," Montgomery Laurence was usually the voice of reason. Naturally, it intrigued Erik to know the root of the issue.

"Does it have anything to do with this note?" Erik asked in an emotionless voice, he cocked an eyebrow and held it between his fingers as a clue. He held the note out to Montgomery, who accepted it with a hint of caution. "This changes things," Montgomery said in a deep voice, perplexed beyond reasoning as he glanced at Erik.

"I mean, think about it. If the girl were under the protection of the 'FBI,' wouldn't they have sent someone by now? Wouldn't she have been in their protection?" Will asked in a consistent voice, speaking directly to Erik.

Erik closed his eyes and made a gesture, folding a pillow under his arm for support, his body ached from the long drive, and this impromptu family meeting had not been what he had envisioned. "Those are very valid points, brother," Erik said in an intrigued voice.

Alec, Erik's youngest brother, had sat quietly in the back of the room until then. "We're rarely here, and she might not even stay long. Guys, what's a few days, weeks, if it means helping someone? Once she comes to, we'll hand her a phone to call her contact or hand her to the police. Hm?" Alec offered in a smooth voice. "Convicted, Al, a convicted murderer," Will put in vehemently.

"They don't know that" Alec said firmly. "She was never actually convicted, only brought in for questioning. Though it's a wonder why they even let her go," Alec said after a long pause. "We'll wait, she's still hooked up to the drip anyway. Leave her to me," Erik said confidently.

Ellen shoved herself off the couch and motioned for Erik to follow, she stopped short in front of Erik's bedroom door, quickly brushing off his glare. "One of us has been staying with her in case she wakes in a disoriented state. It is your shift now," She said, nudging the door titillatingly.

"Come on," She said in a singsong. "Aren't you the slightest bit curious of what the hangman of North Side looks like?" Ellen asked in a ghoulish voice, wriggling her eyebrows. Ellen had voiced what everyone was thinking. Investigators had made it hideously obvious that NSK was a young woman, plastering it in the media.

Erik laid her with a flat look and grudgingly pushed open the door and, undoubtedly for the first time, had his paradigm shifted.

Nuzzled into Erik's sheets was an unmistakable young woman. Streetlight fell softly over her mid-length thick red hair and onto her amplified porcelain skin, her face was breathtaking—she had become the most stunning creature Erik had ever seen. The more he inspected her, the more he was sure of how fragile she looked, as if he could crush her in his arms.

Fascinated, Erik took a deliberate step towards his bed, and he could make out the delicate contour of her body under the thin sheets. Grinning, Ellen noticed Erik could not help but look at the woman as if she were a magnetic force. "Go on now, Mr. Tongue-tied," Ellen said, closing the door.

Diary Entry 1

I woke up in a dimly lit room on an unfamiliar bed, I don't know where I am—which frightens me. Did I do it again, did I blackout? A stack of medical books sits next to the lamp on the nightstand a few inches away from my face, I nestle my cheek back into the pillow and settle in. I don't know what time it is, what day it is, or what year it is. I only know sleep.

If someone asked me what I was doing before I ended up in Papa sasquatch's bed, I couldn't answer them. I only remember as far back as that dark alley, an underpass covered in darkness—save that one streetlight about twelve feet off the entrance. I remember how the light reflected in the puddles in the rivets in the cement, and I remember it was frighteningly, face-numbingly cold.

I think I was wasting time; I keep seeing it in my mind, running in and out again, but the memories are all jumbled.

I guess I heard someone following me, but I don't know who. Probably it was a couple out for a walk; I'm not so sure. Echoes of heavy breathing ricocheted from the stone walls, deafening even now. I can close my eyes and feel the leather jacket around me, constricting my movements as I ran down the deserted underpass.

Washington is known for its hellish snow, but that day was one of the worst yet. When I was picking up speed, I saw shadows on the ground ahead of me; then I woke up here.

What woke me? Nothing huge: no alarms, no phone ringing, no voices whispering. A knock on the wall behind roused me from my weird dreams. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, thinking it was an accident, but someone knocked for a second time, on the other wall to my left. Okay, I thought. Maybe that sasquatch mammoth guy I saw earlier when he thought I was asleep could help; I wonder.

Suddenly, the floor creaks outside of the room I'm in, my blood curdles, and despite myself, I feel myself jump. Who is it? I whisper. No response. I decide I haven't been stupid enough and swing my legs over the edge of the mattress and step lightly to the door, I open it and take a moment before poking my head through the door jam and door.

Peering out into the hallway at night in someone else's house is an unnerving and unsettling thing that I've ever done, it's utterly dark down each end, but if I squint, I can make out a staircase to my right.

Hmm. I can use that tomorrow before anyone is up, doesn't hurt to leave my options open. Creak. My head snaps to my left and I strain my ears and