[RPG - 100] Killer times [Speeltopic] - Speeltopics

“Ah, kom op, alsof je niet weet van hem en Liv. En Saar. En Margot.” Ash was al beginnen fronsen toen hij Jake belachelijk dicht bij Rosa zag staan. Ze stond tegen de muur geleund en hij stond tegenover haar, zijn ene hand naast haar hoofd gepland. Als Ash hen van een andere hoek had benaderd, zou hij het vast anders geïnterpreteerd hebben. Maar nu hij dichterbij kwam en Jakes bullshit kon horen, wist hij dat hij er nog niet zo ver naast zat. Zijn maag knoopte samen, zijn hoofd werd luid en donker. Het was lang geleden dat hij echt kwaad was geworden.
      “Fuck off, Jake.” Rosa wendde zich af, maar niet heel veel. Ash liet zijn trainingszak op de grond vallen en versnelde zijn pas. Hij schreeuwde toen hij Jakes hoofd dichter bij dat van zijn vriendin zag komen. Wat hij precies schreeuwde, wist hij niet. Waarschijnlijk iets Spaans. Het was zonder betekenis, hij wilde gewoon dat Jake zijn kant op zou kijken zodat hij hem vol op zijn neus kon raken. En dat deed hij ook.
      Het bloed spoot eruit en Ash had de krak gevoeld. Niet enkel in Jakes neus, maar ook in zijn eigen vingers. Hij had nog nooit zo hard geslagen, zelfs niet op zijn ‘uitjes’. De woede raasde door hem heen, alsof hij in brand stond. Rosa was van hem, verdomme. Daar moesten anderen vanaf blijven. Dat had niets te maken met wat hij deed.
      Hij hoorde een gil en hij zag, nee, voelde, hoe mensen naar hen toe renden. Hij negeerde het. Al wat hij kon zien was Jakes bloedende gezicht op de grond. Al wat hij kon voelen was de drang om dat gezicht helemaal tot pulp te slaan. De Roes sloeg toe en het was goed dat ze buiten stonden, want anders zouden alle lampen gesprongen zijn.
      Hij negeerde Rosa, die hem iets toeriep en aan zijn arm trok. De menigte rondom hem vormde een kring. De gsm’s die bovengehaald werden, registreerden niets. Ze liepen vast of toonden een zwart scherm. En hoewel hij eerst ontzettend kwaad was, voelde hij plots niets meer. Alleen maar die drang. Alleen maar de Roes.
      Jake kwam kreunend overeind. Hij hield zijn handen omhoog, een teken van overgave. “Hé, man. Rustig. Ik,” begon hij, maar Ash haalde opnieuw uit. Opnieuw op de neus, langs onder. Maar Jake was niet achterlijk en kon de klap afzwakken. Het redde waarschijnlijk zijn leven. Hij wankelde naar achteren, Ash zette een stevige stap naar voren. Jake besefte dat de andere jongen niet zou stoppen, en ging zelf in de aanval. Maar nog voor hij goed en wel zijn slag gegeven had, stond Ash plots aan de andere kant en kreeg hij een knie in zijn maag.
      “Fuck,” siste Jake, omdat het zeer deed, maar ook omdat hij bang werd. Ash voelde de angst. Hij zag het in Jakes ogen, die knipperden tegen het bloed, in zijn bleke gezicht, in zijn gespannen spieren. Hij zag het in de bewegingen, hij hoorde het in de ademhaling. Hij glimlachte, heel even, heel kort, en Jake was waarschijnlijk de enige die het zag. Vervolgens sloeg hij nog eens, recht op Jakes linkerwang. De jongen stuikte in elkaar en Ash gaf hem een schop, en nog een slag. Zijn handen hingen al onder het bloed, er zaten spetters op zijn gezicht, maar hij merkte het niet.
      Hij greep de gewonde jongen bij de haren en trok hem omhoog, om hem vervolgens weer neer te slaan. Jake zakte nogmaals door zijn knieën en greep blind in paniek om zich heen. Ash struikelde, maar kreeg het voor elkaar om recht op Jake te vallen. Snel pinde hij Jake tegen de grond, die toch al niet veel meer kon beginnen. Ash’ handen sloten zich om zijn nek en hij kneep. Jake greep naar Ash’ gezicht, maar die had genoeg ervaring om snel zijn knieën op Jakes armen te zetten. Hij kneep harder en harder.
      “ASH, BEN JE HELEMAAL GEK GEWORDEN!” brulde een mannenstem. Hij voelde hoe twee, drie, vier handen hem vast grepen en van Jake probeerden af te trekken. Het lukte niet. “ASH!” Nu schreeuwde iemand anders, een vrouw of een meisje, maar Ash voelde nog steeds alleen maar die Roes. Hij voelde hoe Jakes moeizame ademhaling minder werd. Hij voelde het lichaam onder zich verstijven en verslappen. Bijna.
      “Hey, how, what the fuck!” riep hij, ineens uit de Roes gerukt. Hij liet Jake los, draaide zijn hoofd en keek recht naar Mr. Johnson, de footballcoach. Die had zijn arm naar achteren getrokken, klaar om Ash van Jake af te slaan. De man keek hem verbaasd aan, hij begreep niet hoe Ash de klap had zien aankomen, zelfs voor deze gelanceerd was. Maar hij had Jake losgelaten, en de andere jongen hapte reutelend naar adem. Hij zag de ogen in het bebloede gezicht heen en weer draaien, en hij zag de groene ogen in het andere gezicht beschuldigend naar hem kijken.
      “Dude, je kan geen zestienjarige leerlingen slaan,” zei Ash, terwijl hij langzaam overeind kwam. De coach knipperde nog eens, niet zeker of hij dat goed gehoord had. Hij keek nog eens naar Jake, wie hij bijna niet meer kon herkennen.
      “Ash,” zei hij zachtjes. De jongen stond nu volledig recht, en stapte rustig over Jake heen. Hij kwam recht op de coach af, zijn ene hand in zijn broekzak.
      “Ja, coach?”
      “Besef je... wat je...” De coach keek nog eens naar Jake, waar nu twee andere leerkrachten overheen gebogen stonden. Ze legden zijn hoofd opzij, zodat het bloed weg kon. Mr. Johnson voelde zichzelf bleek worden. Hij had wel wat op het veld gezien, zeker van Ash, maar hij had nog nooit het gevoel gehad dat hij moest overgeven. Nu wel. “Besef je wel wat je gedaan hebt?”
      Nu knipperde Ash. Langzaam keek hij rond zich. Hij zag de geschrokken gezichten van zijn klasgenoten, de leerkrachten die verwoed de ambulance probeerden te bellen op hun zwarte telefoonschermen. Hij keek naar zijn handen, die er al een pak lelijker hadden uitgezien, maar hem niettemin genoeg vertelden. En dan draaide hij zich om en keek naar Jake.
      “Ik,” zei hij, maar hij wist het vervolg niet. Zijn gezicht was blank. Hij wist niet welk hij moest gebruiken nu. Hij had een gigantische fout gemaakt. En hij voelde absoluut niets. “Ik,” zei hij weer, terwijl hij om zich heen keek. De geschokte gezichten vertelden hem dat hij het er niet beter op maakte. Hij keek naar Rosa, die ver van hem afstond. Ze keek bang van hem naar Jake, van Jake naar hem. Hij bleef even kijken, voelde nog steeds niets, maar wist wel wat hij moest doen.
      “Ik,” zei hij, maar deze keer even geschrokken als iedereen om hem heen. Of zo klonk het toch. “Sorry. Ik weet niet.” Hij hapte naar adem. Misschien moest hij beginnen huilen. Nee, hij had nog nooit gehuild in Oakton, die troef moest hij nog bijhouden. Hij begon te trillen, misschien iets te hard omdat hij zichzelf moest dwingen. Hij keek naar zijn handen en hield ze van zich af, alsof hij vies van ze was.
      “Het was niet mijn bedoeling, coach.” Zijn stem kraakte en de coach wist weer wat hij moest doen. Hij pakte Ash bij de arm, dwingend, maar zacht, en trok hem mee het schoolgebouw in. De gsm’s sprongen aan. Er werd een ambulance gebeld.

      -> Extra uitleg: Ash had heel zelden woede-uitbarstingen na het eerste jaar dat hij in Oakton was. Dit was praktisch de enige én de ergste. Uiteraard werd het besproken, maar Ash had zoiets waarbij zulke dingen snel uit de gedachten en herinneringen verdwenen, of toch van de meesten. Ze wisten het wel, maar hoe langer geleden, hoe minder ernstig het leek te zijn. En Ash’ persoonlijkheid strookte ook niet.

She sat on the bed and looked around. There wasn’t much to see, his remaining things packed in two boxes she had put under the bed. The room had always been quite... empty. As if he’d always been ready to leave. It had gotten better over the years.
      Like when he was thirteen and he had wanted an X-BOX. They had promised him one for his birthday, so he told them that his birthday was that day. It was june, they laughed and told him no. He said they didn’t know that. Nobody did.
Even now, ten years later, she felt a small pain in her chest. She had loved the boy as much as she loved Vic. She still loved him, it wasn’t something she could turn off. Ofcourse, she didn’t love the serialkiller, but she did love the little boy she had raised. The one who’d taken a job at the lake, who’d fix her car that one morning it broke down and she really needed to go to work early, the one who called her mom fort he first time and let her hug him when he was ten years old.
Ash was her boy, even when he had been gone for almost as long as he had been with them.
      She sighed, wiped some of the tears of her cheek and bent down to grab one of the boxes beneath the bed. It wasn’t that heavy.
      The first thing she saw, was his football jacket. He had two of them, as they were finally able to start the official adoption a few months before... This one was the Collins one. She believed Rosa had the other one, although she wasn’t sure. The girl probably threw it away. She hoped she did.
      Underneath the jacket were a few old toys Ash had kept: a teddybear (he had never taken it to bed, but did keep it in a drawer of his desk), some old lego constructions (he had invented them himself, never even looked at the instructions) a rubikscube (solved, he could do that with his eyes closed), a chessboard (he had beaten Maxwell when he was only 13 and never lost again) and a letter.
      She took the letter out and opened it. There were two pieces of paper. One she recognised, it was the one she sent when he went to summercamp. He had been a troublemaker at school in fifth grade, and they made him go for three weeks. He only stayed for one, but apparently he did get the letter. She didn’t know, Vic had packed the boxes for her.
The other one... The other one was an answer he had never given to her. She read it, tears in her eyes again. She immediately understood why he hadn’t given it to her, but she wished he had. Everything might have been different. She might even had her little boy still with her. If only.

Hey mom,
I’m sorry. I think. I don’t know. I’m not good with feelings, but I guess you know that. I’m scared. No. I’m.. I don’t know. I’m something. I wanna go home. I’ll try to be a good boy. Stay out of trouble as much as I can. It won’t be always, I atract trouble.
But you surv You’re still here, so I guess that means something. I think I like you. I’m not entirely sure. But I am gonna call you mom when I get home. And I’ll call mr. Collins dad. And Vic well, still Vic. But he’s my brother now.
I wanna go home. I don’t wanna go away again. Never again. I’ll really try to be good, but you have to promise me you’ll stay. you’ll be there. I’ll be there.
I don’t like it here. It’s even worse than the orpanage. They don’t like me here. I don’t like it here. I guess I’m sorry for what I’ll do. A little bit. I don’t want to make you sad or angry. You have a fun laugh. So, I guess I’m sorry, but I just wanna go home. You’ll see. Don’t be too mad, please? Anyways, gotta go.
See you really soon, mom!
Ash Coll Doe Collins.

He was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, still trying to make a decision. The house at the other side of the street was silent and dark, except fort he corner room on the second floor. He was staring at it, casting a glimpse at his backpack now and then.
      Brianna Burgess. She’d be all alone. He’d watched them the past three Saturday evenings. He didn’t have the time to watch them more and it didn’t matter either. He just picked a house that seemed convenient for the time he’d chosen. And this one was perfect: her parents were of to something he didn’t care about and wouldn’t return untill the following morning. They did that the past three weeks. He’d figured they would do it again and he was right. Her brother was getting laid for the first time, although Ash didn't really know that detail. He just knew one thing: They wouldn’t be home anytime soon, he could feel it in his gut. His gut was never wrong.
      He didn’t know her, never even met her. But he had heard her name maybe once or twice at school. It was risky. Not as risky as the previous one, but still. That’s why he didn’t take his own car. That, and because his dad was keeping the keys at work again. It was practically the only way to punish hi mand he had been a pest these days.
      He was annoyed. Couldn’t sit still, had to stir up shit. He could feel them coming closer. They weren’t there yet, but damn, it was getting hot. It wasn’t noticeable in Oakton yet, but here he had to duck down once in a while because of the PATROUILLES. And ofcourse he had seen the news, heard even more. It was quite the topic at Oakton, something to gossip about: close enough to get excited, too far away to get scared and angry.
      He was going to stay low, he’d told himself. He couldn’t. Each week that passed by got him more and more grumpy, more and more restless. Maybe he was addicted to more than his sigarets and painkillers. Or maybe it was... Whatever it was, he was running out of patience. The feds seemed to stick around. He accepted the challenge.
      Or maybe he didn’t, as he was still sitting in his car. Well, Easton’s car. He’d stolen a different one every week and since East had shown him the inside of his sweet ride the day before, he couldn’t resist. He’d bring it back though, with only a broken window, East would barely have something to complain about. He could already imagine the whining session in the lockerroom.
      He was still tapping his fingers, still staring at the window, until another police car drove by and he had to hide. He waited untill the lights went by and rolled out of the car. He was wearing his hoodie, the old one with the stains that could hide his entire face in the shadows. He didn’t grab his bag, he’d use whatever was in the house. Or maybe even his bare hands, that had gotten more efficient as he continued to grow.
      He looked around the street, grinned and walked over to the house. He could hear some faint music through her open window, but he decided to go through the front door. He didn’t pay any attention to the lock, didn’t even think about it when he walked in. The door closed softly behind him, as he was already taking the first step of the stairs. It KRAAKTE, but he just kept going. Steady, not too fast, but also not too slow. This wasn’t any horror movie, this was real, and he had experience. It didn’t matter whether she’d hear him or not. She’d be dead anyways.

What he liked the most about his town, was the lake. Not only because he enjoyed swimming more than anything - well, almost anything - but also because it was a perfect way to get clean. He just ran in, fully clothed, came back out, changed in something dryer and got back in the car. His dirty clothes weren't soaked with blood anymore, although it had been long since he tried to get the stains out. He'd burn it one day, soon probably.
      He drove the car back to Easton and put it back in the exact same spot he took it from. He couldn't do much about the window, but he had managed to keep the seats visably clean. He just had to wipe down the steering wheel. He yawned when he got out, took his backpack and went on his way to Rosa. Luckily she didn't live that far, but really, no one did in Oakton.
      It was 6.30 and the house and the street were still quiet. He walked straight to the backyard, where he could climb up to her room. Good thing it was a sunday. He slipped in through the windoww, making a soft thumb when he hit the floor.
Rosa was still in bed, he could see her hair all sprawled over the pillow. He walked up towards her, almost as he had done earlier that night, and bent down.
      "Hey, baby. I just got back from a run and I smell horrendous. Gonna take a shower before getting back in, okay?" He heard a faint Si, smiled and gaf her a kiss on top of her head: he felt like he supposed to, but he also wanted to. He took the towels he always used at her place and closed her bathroom door to wash off the last stains on his hands and body.

She couldn’t really sleep. Up until the point that Ash had left she was fine, but afterwards, when she saw him leaving through the window, she just couldn’t fall asleep again. He’d done it before. It wasn’t anything new. She knew that, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d go for a run. But he’d been gone for hours. It wasn’t like him to just be gone for that long and not at least leave her a note or a text.
      It frightened her. This time it certainly did. She wasn’t quite sure what had come over her. Maybe it was just because it was a Sunday, or maybe it was because she just wanted to cuddle up to Ash and stay in bed with him all day. Where could he be? It took her a long time to doze off again. She didn’t really sleep, but at least she could lie in bed and get some rest. But she kept thinking of Ash. He’d been acting somewhat strangely for the last couple of days and she just didn’t understand what happened that made him so anxious. It could have just been stress about school, or maybe football or swimming. She never knew.
      It seemed like hours before she heard something next to her window and she opened her eyes. It was completely dark in her room, but she immediately recognized Ash standing next to her. She smiled faintly. At least now she knew he wasn’t dead.
      ‘Hey, baby. I just got back from a run and I smell horrendous. Gonna take a shower before getting back in, okay?’
      She sighed and nodded, but he was already gone. The light in the bathroom went on. Suddenly she felt more awake as his words sank in. Him going for a run wasn’t anything weird, but he’d been gone for hours. Not even Ash would sneak out in the middle of the night to run for hours. What had he done? Where had he been? Rosa turned to her stomach and closed her eyes again, wanting to go back to sleep. But she couldn’t. She still couldn’t.

The water was red for only just a moment. The lake had washed of most of the blood. He just had to get rid of the smell that’s all. He still he hadn’t put his own soap in Rosa’s shower, so he’d smell like flowers and cookies. The thought made him groan a little, but then he shrugged and went on. He felt like whistling, but since it was still very early, he decided not to.
      When he was clean and dry, he stepped out of the bathroom, just in his boxers. He was physically exhausted, but his mind was at rest. He crawled next to Rosa and pulled her in his arms. Not only because he felt like snuggling, but also because her bed wasn’t really made for two people. And it’s not like they could convince her parents to buy a bigger one.
Rosa smelled like the cookies and flowers from the shower, but he liked it on her. He started drawing circles on her back, as he had the feeling she wasn’t really asleep. His feeling got confirmed as soon as she started talking.
      “Ash?”
      “Mhm?”
      “Where were you?”
      “Running,” he mumbled, still drawing the circles on her back. He made them bigger en bigger, touching her sides and the lowest region of her back. He was too tired to get somewhere, but he still liked to touch her.
      “No you weren’t.” She got up, his hand dropped down, as he turned a little. He had his eyes closed, and was still smiling. “You were gone for hours.”
      He frowned and opened his eyes. “No I wasn’t. I went out at five. I ran for an hour and took a dive at the lake. Then I came back.”

Rosa didn't believe him. She knew he'd been out for a lot longer than an hour and a half, as he told her to. She looked at his face. He seemed content, almost happy, as he was lying there. But it was difficult.
      'I heard you leave,' she answered quietly. Her parents were in the room next to hers and she didn't want to wake them. It took them a while to get used to Ash, and she didn't want to spoil any of it by waking them up early on a Sunday morning. 'I'm sure it was around 1:30.' She sighed and got up, after which she went to her bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked absolutely horrendous. The bags under her eyes seemed like they were living their own life. It didn't do her much good that she hardly slept this night. As she went back to her bedroom, she looked at Ash again. She was sure she heard him leave earlier than five o'clock, but she couldn't prove it.
      Rosa got back into the bed and looked at Ash again. 'I'm glad you're back,' she mumbled as she crawled into his arms and closed her eyes. She didn't have the energy to bicker and she just wanted to sleep.

“Ash! Dinner!”
      Ash ignored ms. Collins’ call, as he was listening to some music blasting through his headphones. He skimmed through an old phone, watching the latest video he had made. It was fascinating, to say the least.
      “ASH! COME DOWN!” It was his dad this time. They were on edge lately. Ash knew it was his fault, even though he didn’t feel like it was. He didn’t care either. It would get better soon, or he’d be away for college anyways. He still finished the song and the video, before throwing off the headphones and jogging downstairs.
      He had left the phone on his desk, but pulled another one out of the pocket of his pants. He had a damn lot of messages, but his dad had plucked it out of his hands and put it on the counter.
      “Hey!”
      “No phones at the table, means no phones at the table. You know that,” his dad sighed.
      “Fuck.”
      “Ash.” His mom looked pleadingly at him, as she put the carrots on the table. Ash smiled, winked and sat down quietly.
      The first few minutes were filled with silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Then Ash’ phone started ringing. He reached for it, but the sharp sound of a fork against the plate made him stop.
      “Ash.”
      “Allright, allright. No phones, I got it.” He turned back to his food, the ringing stopped. But then it started again and he could see it was not the same caller. Weird. He didn’t reach for it, as his dad stared intensly at him. Ash raised both of his hands in surrender. The ringing stopped again.
      They each had taken maybe one or two bites before it started ringing again. This time, Ash just ignored the rules, twirreld around and grabbed the thing of the counter.
      “Yeah?” he said, still chewing on a carrot. Before he could hear the issue, his phone got ripped out of his hands again.
      “Whoever is this, stop calling. We’re eating!” his dad yelled. He then cut off the caller and pointed his fork at Ash, who was starting to get pissed off too.
      “What the fuck?” he said. Ms. Collins sighed softly.
      “We have a rule about phones and you are going to stop ignore that. And shut down that faul language, for once!” Mr. Collins was getting tired of his son. Or maybe afraid. Not that the boy ever posed as a threat, not really, but it was clear he didn’t care about the rules unless they weren’t inconvenient for him. It was getting a real problem. Sanctioning him even more so.
      “Or what?” Ash asked, more amused than annoyed now.
      “Do I need to take your keys again?” Mr. Collins knew it was a weak threat. They used that one too many times already. But it seemed like it was the only thing that at least worked a little bit. Grounding Ash didn’t work, he’d sneak away anyways. The last few times he didn’t even sneak anymore. They once threatened to pull him out of the footballteam, but he only raised his shoulders. The same with the swimming team, as ‘we live near a gigantic lake, I’ll swim anyways.’ Sending him to a summercamp was hard at the age of 17 and even then, they had done that when he was 10. He had to return after four days.
      No, the only thing he reacted normally to, was taking away his car. And they could only do that with taking the keys somewhere he could not reach or find them. It didn’t work everytime, they knew now he could just steal his own car. He’d done that to mr. Collins’ car a few weeks before. They guessed he didn’t want to damage his own.
      “Sure, old man. Do whatever you want.” Ash smiled, almost sweetly. Then the phone went ringing again. He seemed to have grabbed it even before the first tunes reached their ears, and he was already on his feet before they could react.
      “Yeah?”
      “ASH!” Mr. Collins yelled. Ash grinned, gave him the finger and walked towards the living room. Neither mr. nor ms. Collins followed him. The man just sat down, desperate, and the woman stroke her finger gently over her daughter’s cheeck. They could faintly hear him answering whoever was on the other side of the line.
      “No, I was just having a confrontation with the Collins’ “
      “Yeah, my parents. Dude, you know I...”
      “Why?”
      “But...”
      “Allright, sure, I guess.”
      He walked back into the kitchen, watching his phone with curious eyes. He pushed a button and put it down in the middle of the table.
      “He said to put you guys on speaker. It’s Caleb,” Ash whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice. His parents frowned and shot a glance at eachother. “You’re on, buddy,” he then said, louder.
      They could hear a boy scraping his throat.
      “Hi mr. and ms. Collins.”
      “Hi Caleb.”
      “So, ehm, the cops took in Easton.” The Collins gasped, Ash raised an eyebrow.
      “Easton? Easton Covington?” His dad asked.
      “Yeah,” Caleb answered.
      “The captain of your footballteam?” mr. Collins asked again. Ash rolled his eyes.
      “No, dad, the other Easton Covington.”
      “Eh,” Caleb stuttered. Ms. Collins came to his rescue, asking: “Why?” before the two would start fighting again.
      “The murder of Brianna Burgess.” The family gasped. Ash simply raised his eyebrows, trying to hide his smile.
      “The girl who got brutally killed last week?” His mother asked.
      “Yeah. They saw his car around the time of the murder and they found DNA in her bedroom.”
      Now Ash just snorted, but he hid it quickly in a cough.
      “I thought I’d let y’all know,” Caleb said quietly.
      “Allright, you did. Thanks. See ya,” Ash answered, picking up his phone and ending the conversation. It was quiet for a while, as Ash quickly read some other messages. Most of ‘em were about Easton. Man, what a fucking coincidence. Ash didn’t realise he was smiling, untill he put his phone down and found his family staring at him.
      “What?”
      “Ash, sweety, are you allright?” His mother asked.
      “Ehm, yeah?” Ash’ smile dimmed, as he figured this wasn't the proper response.
      “Your footballcaptain and friend just got arrested for a rape and murder, are you sure you’re allright?”
      “We aren’t exactly friends,” Ash answered. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t smiling, or showing any other emotion. Except for the humor in it, he did not feel anything at all. And he didn’t get the fact that he should either. The murder was old news and everybody knew it had to be someone close, right? He looked at his dad and at his mom. They looked shocked, but he couldn’t fake that anymore. And to be honest, he had acted surprised. He was surprised. He’d never thought they’d get Easton for it.
      His phone rang again.
      “I’m... gonnaaa... take this one too, if you don’t mind,” he said, as he rose quickly to his feet. He walked tot he living room again, already answering the call. He didn’t see how his parents looked at eachother, worried deeply about his reaction.
      “Yeah, man, I just heard. It’s... It’s awful,” Ash said through the phone, his face finally carrying the right expression. His parents only started worrying even more.

“What? No!” He didn’t quite yell the words, but they were clear enough. He looked at them as if they had lost their brains, but Maxwell wouldn’t back down. Not this time.
      “Yes. You’re gonna be home before twelve o’clock.”
      “Yeah, fuck you I’m not.” And that was it. That was usually it. Ash didn’t even look at them anymore as the sounds of his game filled the room again. She sighed, already defeated, but her husband had had enough. He stepped in front of the tv, so his son had to look up to him. Ash wasn’t very impressed and tried to look around him, but the man just came closer. The sounds stopped again, but she hadn’t seen him press any buttons.
      “That’s enough. We’re done with this, this behaviour and that foul language of you…”
      “Foul language? You wanna hear some foul language, old man?” Ash spit. He straightened his back, flexing the muscles in his shoulders. He had gotten so big, and it didn’t seem like he’d stop growing any time soon. Yet she wasn’t afraid for any physical contact, he’d never touched them. That was exactly what got her worried.
      “I’m going to Isaac’s tonight and that’s the fucking damn end of it. I’m not coming home at boring o’ clock and you can’t do shit about it,” he hissed. Maxwell didn’t back off, not at all. Instead he looked like he was about to explode, as he took another step towards the couch. Ash didn’t back down either, though.
      “Ash…” Maxwell yelled, but he hesitated, just for a second. She didn’t need to look, to know that Ash’ eyes darkened instantly. They always did when his voice was as cold as it was now.
      “What? Collins?” Ash laughed. “Don’t fucking think so.” Was that… hurt in his voice? Did he care about it? About them? Whatever it had been, it was gone the next sentence. “Maybe try Nunez. Or Stevens. Or, hell, why not, Doe!” The lights flickered. Maxwell flinched. Ash got up and whispered: “Next time you want to go all parental on me, make sure you are my damn parents.” The lights flickered again and the tv made some noise, although she doubted it was the game. Still Maxwell didn’t give up, yet she could see the doubt crawling up his neck.
      “We are your parents.”
      “No, you’re not. You’re just like the others,’ Ash said matter of factly. That hurt and she felt a spark inside her chest. The fear began to lose its grip on her.
      “What, no! We’ve been there for you the longest. We’ve put up w…” In his anger, Maxwell made a mistake and he’d already stopped talking, but Ash didn’t need anything more. His eyes were almost black now, as was the room after the light popped out. There was a faint crash somewhere in the house.
      ‘You’ve put up with me? Like I’m a burden? Then why didn’t you bring me back, huh? Let’s dispose the kid nobody wants, why not? You wouldn’t be the first.” He chuckled. “Cause you’re scared, isn’t it? Afraid of what I can do?” Another crash. She noticed he’d grown taller than Maxwell.
      “No,” she said, softly. Both males turned their heads toward her. The fear was still there, he was right, but only partly. Not even a lot. She came closer, until she was next to Maxwell. Ash looked at her like he had done the first day she’d seen him. With the curiosity of a cat looking at the bird, deciding whether to play with it or eat it straight ahead. But birds can grow strong as well.
      “We love you and you’re a wonderful kid in many ways,” she said again. She meant it. She truly loved this teen and he amazed her every day. “But right now you’re a pain in the ass. We’re not punishing you, we’re teaching you a lesson.”
      “Really,” Ash said, but she could hear the surprised question through his sarcasm.
      “You can’t get everything you want, not even you. You can party all night on your birthday, but you cannot do that twice in a week. You may go to Isaac this evening, but at twelve you’re coming home.” Ash arched an eyebrow. “And then you’re gonna stay here for the rest of the night. And that’s it, no discussion.” It was quiet for a while. He still looked like that cat, but this time she didn’t feel like the bird. She felt like a mom who’s gotten sick of the behaviour of her teen. After all, that’s all what was happening, right? They had had problems with the electricity even before Ash moved in. It was no big deal. And just like that, the lights popped back on.
      “Fine,” he grumbled, as he sat back down.

Het was een routinecontrole geweest. Het was een ongewone zaak, een vréselijke zaak, maar de buurtcontrole was dat niet. Bij elk huis eens aanbellen en een kort gesprekje voeren. Lang ging het niet duren in deze straat, dat hadden ze bij het eerste huis wel al gemerkt.
      Nu stonden ze voor de deur van de vierde, net onder het bruine, houten dakje van het portaal. Ze wachtten, zo’n twintigtal seconden, voor hij zijn vinger weer op de deurbel legde. Misschien waren ze niet thuis, het was een mooie dag, ondanks de frisse wind. Een zaterdag om van te genieten. Hij duwde nog eens en telde in zijn hoofd nog eens tot vijftien, daarna zouden ze naar het volgende huis gaan. Op tel negen ging de deur open.
      Bij de vorige deuren had er telkens iemand anders opengedaan: een jonge vrouw, die duidelijk even schrok van het manvolk op haar deurmat, maar al snel glimlachte bij het zien van hun badges. Een kind van een jaar of elf, dat niet goed kon kiezen tussen hen met open mond aanstaren of opgewonden heen en weer springen, dus gewoonweg allebei deed.       Na een minuut had hij echter doorgehad hoe saai een gesprek met echte agenten wel niet kon zijn, en was het enthousiasme in zijn Ipad verdwenen. Bij het laatste huis was het een man geweest, niet veel jonger dan hem, die hen wat achterdochtig had aangekeken. Dat interview hadden ze aan de deur afgenomen, want de baby sliep. Daar zouden ze nog eens terug moeten gaan.
      Bij deze deur was het een jongen, rond een jaar of 17, 18 gokte hij. Desondanks was de jongen maar enkele centimeters kleiner dan hem en op zijn kin en kaken stonden al flink wat stoppels. De jongen keek hen aan met een onverschilligheid die ze nog niet veel tegengekomen waren.
      “Ja?” vroeg hij, niet meteen onvriendelijk, maar ook niet hartelijk. Zijn stem was nog jong, maar je kon er al de man in horen die hij zou worden. Hij leunde tegen de rand van de deur, die hij maar half geopend had.
      “Wij zijn agenten Anderson en Smith van de FBI. We hebben enkele vraagjes voor de buurtbewoners. Zijn je ouders thuis?”
      “Ja,” antwoordde de jongen. Verder bewoog er geen spier in zijn gezicht. Er was geen nieuwsgierigheid, geen verbazing, geen enkele interesse. Hij bleef staan waar hij bleef staan, duidelijk niet van plan om zijn ouders er even bij te roepen of de deur verder te openen voor de agenten. Hij keek hem alleen aan, met ogen die ontzettend groen waren. Het maakte hem ongemakkelijk.
      “Mogen we even binnenkomen?” vroeg Smith, met een lachje in zijn stem. De blik van de jongen gleed naar de andere agent, maar verder gebeurde er niet veel. Het bleef even stil, dan keek de jongen weer naar hem en haalde hij bijna onmerkbaar zijn schouders op. Hij liet de deur los, draaide zich om en liep het huis binnen. De deur stond nog steeds op half, waardoor de agenten elkaar even ongemakkelijk aankeken. Ze hoorden de zachte voetstappen van de jongen door de gang stappen en besloten hem te volgen. Hij had tenslotte de deur opengelaten.
      “Ash, wie is het?” hoorden ze een vrouwenstem uit de keuken komen. Ze zagen de jongen een deur inglippen, die ook op een kier bleef openstaan.
      “FBI,” zei hij, zonder verder uitleg te geven. Er kletterde iets en toen de agenten de keukendeur doorwandelden, zagen ze dat de vrouw een mes had laten vallen. Ze was tomaten aan het snijden, maar keek nu verschrikt naar haar zoon.
      “FBI?” vroeg ze zacht, waarbij ze even op de mannen blikte. “Je hebt toch niets uitgestoken?” Ze meende haar vraag, dat zagen ze, maar de jongen reageerde enkel met een spottende opgetrokken wenkbrauw.
      Hij rolde met zijn ogen zoals enkel tieners dat kunnen en mompelde: “Tuurlijk, mam.” Daarna sprak hij duidelijker, met een kleine glimlach die de eerste vorm van emotie was die ze bij hem gezien hadden. “Ze komen alle buurtbewoners ondervragen, relax.” Hij grijnsde even, ondeugend, en liep toen de keuken uit voor ze hem konden tegenhouden. Hij had niet ontkend.

"Eens zien," mompelde hij tegen zichzelf. Hij schudde wat met zijn rugzak zodat de energyrepen naar onderen zakte. Hij propte er nog twee wc-rollen bij, een keukenmes, een zaklamp en een extra onderbroek. Dan had hij alles. De rest zou hij wel eens stelen, of misschien zelfs kopen. Tenslotte was Mexico een stuk goedkoper.
      Hij keek niet meer om toen hij voor de laatste keer zijn raam uitkroop en de tuin uitliep. Er was wel iets dat knaagde in zijn binnenste, maar hij voelde zich vooral leeg. Geïrriteerd misschien. Moest hij toch weggaan, na al die jaren. Ach.
      "Hey Ash!" Ash draaide zich om, heel even, en zag zijn vrienden op hem afkomen. Shit. Dit was niet het moment.
      "Waar ga je heen, reethoofd?" vroeg Ryan. Isaac, Matt en Alexis keken hem nieuwsgierig aan. Isaac had een brandblusser vast. Ash keek er naar, opgewonden. Misschien had hij de fles whiskey van zijn vader beter laten staan.
      "Eh, ergens," mompelde hij. Hij wees naar de brandblusser: "Wat is het plan?"
      Alexis grijnsde en haalde een bus deo en een aansteker boven. Matt grijnsde ook en gaf antwoord. "Mijn broertje zweert dat hij die oude dooie Haggins heeft gezien en dat hij weer enkele kinderzieltjes probeerde weg te snoepen." Ash had soms echt een hekel aan hoe Matthew sprak. Hij had geen tijd voor een uitleg van drie uur. "Dus wij dachten, laten we hem het vuur aan de schenen leggen." Ash grijnsde mee, maar zag toen een patrouillewagen voorbij rijden. Ze stonden in de schaduw, maar hij kromp toch iets ineen. Iets.
      "Misschien een andere keer," mompelde hij. Isaac trok een wenkbrauw op en gaf hem een stomp.
      "Wat is jouw probleem? Wat ga je anders doen?"
      Ash haalde zijn schouders op. Hij wilde wel meegaan. Heel graag zelfs.
      "Je kan toch niet in je eentje rondlopen. Avondklok, remember? Ze pakken je zo op en dan zijn het niet je ouders naar wie je je vinger kan opsteken." Ash rolde met zijn ogen en stak de zogenaamde vinger op naar Alexis. Hij maakte zich weinig zorgen over ongezien wegkomen. Door de politie en al helemaal door de losgeslagen moordenaar.
      " Kom op, wees niet zo'n loser," zei Ryan. Ash fronste. Hij kon beter weggaan. Het was slechts een kwestie van tijd voor ze weer voor de deur stonden, alleen niet voor een buurtonderzoek. Aan de andere kant, welk bewijs hadden ze? Ze hadden nog steeds meer van Easton dan van hem. Wat kon 1 dagje doen?
      "Goed," mompelde hij. "Laten we eens zien of Haggins zijn kop deze keer wel laat zien." Hij grijnsde.

      "Shit," mompelde hij. Hij keek verdwaasd naar de vlammen om zich heen. De tweede fles whiskey was een nog slechter idee dan de eerste. Hij hoorde iemand gillen, en nog iemand schreeuwen. De vlammen werden hoger, heter, en kwamen dichterbij, maar Ash voelde niets, behalve de fascinatie. Vanuit zijn ooghoek zag hij zijn vrienden naar buiten strompelen. Matt, Ryan en Alexis als laatste. Hij hoorde haar roepen naar Isaac en naar hem. Hij hoorde Isaac terugroepen, aan de andere kant van de brand. Daar moest hij heen.
      Hij stapte rustig om de vlammen en het gat in de vloer heen. De rook hing dik in de lucht, maar Ash had nog nooit last gehad van rook. Hij had zich nog nooit verbrand. Hij was lang geleden gestopt met er zich vragen bij te stellen.
      "Isaac?" riep hij, met een angstige stem. Zijn blik stond hard, verbolgen. De alcohol verdampte in zijn bloed, of zo voelde het toch. Hij was kwaad, kwaad omdat hij hier niet moest zijn. Kwaad omdat hij hier wel had mogen zijn als Isaac zijn mond had gehouden.
      "Ash! We moeten hier weg!" Isaacs gezicht zag al zwart toen hij zich vastgreep aan zijn vriend. Ash bleef staan en reageerde niet, hij keek enkel naar het gezicht van Isaac. "Dude!"
      "Man, wat ben jij een asshole," gromde Ash. Hij duwde Isaac van zich af, richting de vlammen en het gat in de vloer. Het gat was er al jaren, sinds de eerste keer dat Ash er was geweest. Sinds Robbie erdoor was gezakt en zijn arm had gebroken.
      Isaac stootte zijn hoofd. Ash zag hoe zijn ogen wegdraaide en hij begon te wankelen. Het was niet zijn bedoeling geweest. Hij zag hoe de zijkant van Isaacs shirt vlam vatte, hij voelde de hitte. Isaacs ogen draaiden weer juist en hij schreeuwde. Hij begon op de vlammen te kloppen, Ash deed niets. Hij keek gewoon toe, draaide zich vervolgens om en liep naar buiten. De brandblusser wierp hij in de struiken.