Murder Out By Caster Bridge

Chapter one

Two weeks ago

Not only did the loud beeping from my alarm clock forcefully wake me up, but also a mind-numbing headache drilled itself deeper and deeper the more awake until I jolted awake. It only got worse and worse the more alert I became. When the bleariness in my vision didn't clear from rubbing them, I realized that I needed my glasses.

I groaned. Seriously, why did this have to happen today of all days? Here I was hoping to go about my normal day.

After I sat up and stretched, I reached over and picked up my glasses from the nightstand which cleared the bleariness instantly. That's when my eyes wandered to the window.

Blue bolts of lightning zapped across the begrimed sky while in the distance thunder rumbled. It wasn't loud enough to cause me to jump, but it must have been noisy enough to startle the hundreds of slumbering ravens perched on the powerlines. They cawed and flew off over the nearby red building.

Warning bells rang inside my pounding skull. This wasn't right. Most days were cloudless and sunny. Not today The sky wasn't its usual vibrant blue, nor was it clear. Instead, thick dark gray clouds blanketed the atmosphere which caused a strange murky heaviness to loom over our apartment complex. It was as though something more than an angry thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. Not to mention, the chilly breeze drifting in through my half-opened window was unnatural for a day in March. Already this was shaping up to be a not-so-normal day, I thought.

And if I thought the terrible weather was bad, I was also having the worst day of my existence. All I wanted to do was enjoy a pleasant morning. But as soon as I looked away from the dreary scenery outside the window, I just wanted to stay in the safety of my warm, cozy bed and smash m pillow over my aching head to block out the horrid shouting.

"I don't care!"

Sharp, vigor anger sliced into my mind like a dagger. That caused the pounding in my head to roar louder until I could feel my pulse pounding in my eardrums. Painfully, I hissed and brought my hands up to my temples to rub the tension and pain away. A wince escaped past my chapped lips as soon as my fingers touched my sore head. Why of all days did this have to happen?

Yeah, this day was so not going the way I wanted it to. And this was a day that I had been ecstatically looking forward to. I didn't know why. I wasn't a teenage girl excited about whatever girls get excited about. They probably got excited about something cheesy like makeup or changing their hairstyle or coloring their hair for the first time or getting their first manicure. Okay, so maybe I was stereotyping a bit. But it wasn't like I knew much about what girls did or wanted.

As for my birthday present, it was owning my first car. I didn't have one yet. I had a well-thought-out plan to buy one as soon as I saved up enough from my job. And I guess that's what contributed to my happiness because I was so close to having the money saved up. I mean, today was my eighteenth birthday after all.

I mean, turning eighteen was supposed to be a hugely momentous occasion, right? It's supposed to be the transition from being a teenager to going into adulthood which meant going off to college in the fall. So, your entire life changes, but that would be the least of my problems because I had already graduated and wasn't even in the process of deciding what my next step would be.

It didn't matter.

My day was already ruined and thinking about college was the last thing on my throbbing mind. Not only because of this horrid pain driving a bullet through my head. No, that was only half of my problems. The other half was the yelling my mother was doing.

After my ten-minute shower, I dressed and walked into the kitchen to see her standing over by the sink with her black hair clipped back in a bun and dressed in a black blouse with a black blazer and a black skirt down to her knee and black dress shoes with a pearl necklace draped around her neck. If anyone in town were to drop by and see her, they would probably assume she was heading off to a funeral instead of her job at the funeral home. Well, okay, I guess they would assume correctly.

My mother was also wiping at a cup with a red washcloth. Knowing my mother like I do and knowing that she didn't always pay attention to her surrounding, she'd probably been drying that cup for the last ten minutes while she shouted into the wireless landline phone squashed between her ear and shoulder.

"I don't care, Ruth!" she yelled for the umpteenth time. "No! No, this is not up for negotiation. Do not give me that hoodoo magic nonsense again! Why? You know why!"

"Mom," I said, wincing. I hated how the pain exploding in my head made my voice crack a little. Plus, I was fighting hard to keep my voice soft because I hated interrupting anyone on the phone, especially my mother. It was impolite, but I needed to ask where it was.

"Ruth! Stop it! Why aren't you listening to me?" demanded my mother as her screaming grew louder.

"Mom!" I shouted.

"Hold on!" shouted my mother before she spun around, setting the cup with the washcloth inside it on the counter before her chocolate brown eyes landed on mine as she placed her hand over the receiver. "What is it, Weston? Can't you see how busy I am?"

I couldn't help but flinch at the strong flow of irritation and anger surging through me. These weren't my emotions. These were the emotions pouring out of my mother. You'd think by now I'd be used to feeling things like this and finding a way to cope and stop them from invading me. Well, usually, that was true. Usually, I had no problem separating my emotions from everyone else. Today, however, it was like my empathic ability--that's the supposed term when I did an online search back when I was thirteen--was in overdrive. And my mother's feelings invading my cluttered mind in waves only increased the pain. Why was my empathy stronger today?

I heard people say empathy was a good thing, but honestly, it has felt nothing but a curse.

"Weston!"

I shook my head and looked back at my mother. "Uh, I was wondering... Do you know where the aspirin is?"

My mother grumbled and then pointed to the hallway behind me. "Medicine, cabinet," she stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world when it wasn't. "For crying out loud, Weston, you know where it is! Now, stop disturbing me while I am on the phone!" She then picked up the cup again and resumed wiping the already dry cup as she angrily screamed again. "Yes, I am here, Ruth! No, it was Weston! Yes, he's fine! Yes, he is! Look, stop, and get back on the topic...!"

Not wanting to hear anymore, I staggered down the creamy white hallway. Being away from my mother seemed to soothe some of the tension. After opening the bathroom door, I flipped on the light switch. The fluorescent lightbulbs flickered a few times before staying on. My mother seriously needed to change them or call an electrician for help. I would have gladly changed them for her. I knew how I had watched her do it hundreds of times as a kid, but if I tried to grab the stool, my mother would intuitively know, yell at me, and tell me to put it back. Okay, okay, so, I might have broken a bulb a time or two. Not a big deal. That was something I did when I was thirteen. I was eighteen now. Maybe I'd fix it when she wasn't home.

I opened the medicine cabinet door and surprisingly located the bottle of pain reliever. I picked it up. For some reason, it felt light. Too light. Shaking it, there was no sound. Empty.

With a heavy sigh, I muttered, "Thanks, Mom, for not telling me." Annoyed, I tossed the empty bottle into the trashcan by the door and nearly slammed the cabinet door shut in a fit of rage.

"No, Ruth, you will listen to me! I don't care about that right now!"

God, I wish she would stop yelling already, I thought as I gripped the sides of the porcelain sink and bowed my head so my chin rested on my heaving chest. I didn't dare look in the mirror. I would no doubt look like a mess. I could already feel a small bead of sweat underneath my black hair, and colorless dots were already dancing in my line of sight.

And to make matters even worse, my stomach was churning dangerously and I was hot.

I needed out of this apartment!

Out of this building!

I needed air!

Now!

With claustrophobia tightening in my throat and chest, I dashed out of the bathroom and down the hallway. However, I unintentionally stopped, nearly tripping over my feet on the carpet, at the entrance to the kitchen.

"For the last time, Ruth, I said that I don't care! You may not like this, but..."

My mother's rage stole my breath. One of my hands shot out impulsively to touch the wall, supporting my shaky legs as I bent over. My other hand clutched desperately at my tightened chest. Being this close once again made me sicker. I could barely get enough oxygen into my lungs and my stomach was rolling. A bout of anxiety shot through me and my heart escalated. This was my anxiety. I placed the back of my hand over my mouth and swallowed thickly.

Forcing myself to focus on something other than my mother's anger and then sudden queasiness in my stomach, my eyes wandered over to the chair. Tapping into the magic inside me, warmth spread through me as I kept my eyes locked on my satchel that was hanging off the knob. The strap moved and rose by itself and then lifted before floating over to me. The second it was right in front of me, I grabbed it and threw the strap over my head so it rested on my shoulder and across my chest. I then stole a glance at my mother. Should I say goodbye? It's not like she would care or notice anyway...

"Ruth! Ruth, shut up! For once in your elderly life, shut up and listen to me!"

Without uttering a proper goodbye, I fled out of the door of our apartment and ran straight to the elevator at the end of the hall. After pressing the down arrow button, I rocked back and forth on my heels from either the anxiety or the impatience coiling inside me. I waited for what felt like a lifetime, but in reality, was no more than five minutes if my watch was accurate. Just when I was about to turn and take the door to the stairwell, the elevator doors dinged open

Finally!

I stepped in and hit the first-floor button and then went to the nearest corner. I wished I had taken the stairs now. There were four other people on. Most people would have no problem. However, I wasn't like most people.

The elderly woman in a floral gown, carrying a basket of what smelled like blueberry muffins, turned to me and flashed a crooked smile. "Would you like a blueberry muffin, sonny?" she asked in a southern accent. "My, you look a bit peckish. Have you eaten? You know, it's not healthy for young men such as yourself to go without breakfast for too long.

Who was this woman?

I just simply shook my head. Judging from her sugary emotions, my refusal didn't upset her. Instead, she flashed me that same crooked smile, grabbed my hand, sat a plastic-wrapped-up muffin in my palm, and closed her wrinkled hand around mine. An unusual coldness radiated from her and nearly caused me to shiver.

"This is for luck, health, and for your birthday," she said with an eerie smile. "And a very special birthday, indeed."

I yanked my hand out of hers and held the muffin in my hand as I looked at her confused. How on earth did she know that it was my birthday? I didn't know this woman. There was no way she could have known. Unless... Was she a mind reader? Was there even another person with strange abilities?

Doubtful.

"Come on, slow elevator," bellowed the nice-looking businessman whom I presumed was the proud parent of the little girl who was probably about four or five clinging to the back of his black slack pants and sucking on a lollipop. The man's anxiousness was boiling with every glance at his expensive watch that I could never afford all the while his daughter's curiosity had her looking at him every second.

"It won't go any faster if you yell at it," mumbled the young woman in the black strapless dress and bright red lipstick. She was busy tapping her white high heels against the side of the elevator as her annoyance and exotic emotions made my insides bubble with bile.

A part of me hated this. I didn't like being this open, this exposed to the emotions of everyone around me. What I needed was to focus on other things. I needed a distraction. Just when I was about to pull out my cell phone to play a calming game I downloaded several weeks ago, the elevator dinged.

My eyes shot up.

The red needle landed on the first floor.

Thank you, God!

The second those elevator doors opened, I got off without looking back and walked into the lobby. Extreme happiness impaled into me. I nearly lost my balance but caught myself by grabbing the edge of the table. Those emotions belong to the receptionist--the middle-aged woman behind the front desk, waving at me. "Good morning, Weston! Happy birthday!"

She knew, too? Well, I could kind of understand how the lobbyist woman would know. Mom and I have been living in this apartment for as long as I could remember. So, that made sense. However, that elderly woman on the elevator was just too creepy and too weird. She was no one I knew. She was no one I had ever seen, but she kind of reminded me of my grandmother. But that was impossible. My grandmother didn't even live in this town.

"Would you like a blueberry muffin?" I offered the woman. In all the time that I've been living here, I never learned the woman's name. I felt bad about it, but I didn't feel it was necessary.

"Why thank you, Weston. You're a sweetheart," she said. And that only made her happiness brighter and galling. "But I am afraid that I can't take it. I'm allergic to blueberries. You keep it. A little sugar would do you good."

Biting back a wince, I placed the muffin in my bag. I would eat it later, maybe. I then waved politely. "Uh, yeah," I mumbled before I walked out of the translucent door. As soon as I was out of the building, the cool air caressed my face as though it was comforting me. Feeling less suffocated, I took in a deep lungful of air. The aroma of the ocean was strong today. Guess that storm was coming up from the ocean and giving it that sea-salt smell. I leaned against the old brick building, not caring about the bizarre looks people were shooting at me. I was just glad my stomach no longer felt like a rollercoaster. But sadly my headache was still thundering on. It was no use. Even being out here, I could still hear my mother's booming voice from the third floor. Looking up, I realized why. She had the window opened. Luckily, though, her screams were muffled. However, it didn't help the anger and frustration I could still detect flooding into my head.

It wasnt until I strolled to the bus stop that my head felt clear of my mother's voice and emotions and was no longer pounding as hard. I found it strange as I sat under the bench with the ugly green canopy. My headaches never went away that quickly. I shook my head. Like always, I was the only one here which was a pleasant kindness. The tension in my shoulder blades released and I closed my eyes unperturbedly. This was the most relaxed I'd been all morning.

Suddenly, warm hands covered my eyes.

Startled, the urge to strike out with a punch or kick was strong. My instincts tensed, ready to attack if necessary. Those kendo lessons I took two years ago must have heightened my senses. Either that or it made me super paranoid. Whatever the case, I didn't care. I was only a moment away from flipping the person over my shoulder, but powerful emotions of peace streaming through me stopped me and calmed me instantly. Those emotions I knew well. Those were the kind I wanted to spend a lifetime drowning in. The serenity always made me feel like I belonged.

"Guess who," said a familiar melodious, smooth voice.

The person's heated breath on the back of my neck made me falter. "Uh, let's see," I stammered, unconsciously licking my dry lips as I paused dramatically to cover up myself. "You wouldn't happen to be the proud owner of Ms. Hopkins's demonic cat by any chance, would you?"

With their hands still over my eyes, the person laughed. "Are you seriously comparing me, your best friend on the whole planet, to Kevin Hopkins? I am not the notorious owner of a demonic cat. So, no, I am not Kevin. That deranged kid has a crazy affinity for choking poor Stanley to his nasty demise. It's no wonder that cat turned out to be demonic."

My cheeks heated. There was no doubt that I was blushing bright red as I bit my bottom lip to keep my hilarity from bursting, which must have been what set my best friend off into hysterical, harder laughter.

"If only you could see your face!" My best friend removed their hands from my eyes. "It's the funniest thing I've ever seen. Where's my camera?"

I straightened. "I chucked it in the ocean keeping it far away from you."

My best friend laughed harder, his arm curling around his abdomen. The delight in his emotions made me laugh along. Why did he have to have such a stupid, yet endearing and contagious laugh?

"Can you please stop laughing?" I asked, failing to keep the laughter out of my voice. "It was quite rude of you to sneak up on me in the first place, Hayden."

Hayden Lakewood, the young man who was still laughing like a total maniac, was wearing his infamous amused smile on his round freckled face. He had his wavy ginger hair styled differently today. Instead of his bangs being matted, he had them spiked which made his unique turquoise eyes shine brightly like when the sun hits the Caribbean sea. He also had on a green sweater vest with a golden trident emblem on the left pocket. He had on black dress pants with black dress shoes. And he had his black gym bag slung over his shoulder. Yep, this was indeed my best friend in the entire world. The two of us truly were inseparable ever since we met on that warm summer day back when I was eight.

"Well," said Hayden, after catching his breath. He then sat beside me. "I wouldn't technically call it sneaking. I made my footsteps known. You were the one who looked ready to fall asleep." His eyes narrowed and the swirls in them seemed darker. "You did another late-night session, didn't you? I told you before, Weston; those sleepless nights are eventually going to catch up with you. It seems like I'm right yet again."

I couldn't help but chuckle. He was always like this. Protective of me, worried about my health. It didn't phase me. Most people would complain, but I knew he cared about me unlike anyone had ever done before. It was nice. And I cared about him the same way. Sometimes I wondered if he only worried because I hadn't fully matured like most. He was tall, lean, and athletic. Obviously, from being on the swim team. But I wasn't like that. I still had baby fat cheeks and was three inches shorter than normal, and I was scrawny. Most people commented on my looks occasionally and how I looked younger than I was.

"If you must know, no, I didn't stay up doing another session this time. I swear it."

Hayden's smile broadened. "That's great news. That means you took my advice for once."

"I wouldn't go that far."

Hayden frowned. "Okay, then, what is the real reason for your sleepiness? I would assume you'd be excited today. I mean, you are the birthday boy today. Eighteen and starting all of that adult jazz. As you know, I turned eighteen last year. Honestly, I don't feel any different. What about you?"

I gripped the strap on my bag. Should I mention what's happening? Should I mention everything that's been going wrong this morning?

No, I decided. That would only make him worry more. I hadn't even told him the truth about my talents. I've wanted to, and I've hinted at it several times, but if he caught on he's never said anything. And anytime I try, I lose my nerve. A part of me hated this. I hated being an intruder into other people's emotions, but I couldn't stop it. I just woke up on my thirteenth birthday and puberty decided to open an empathic psychic hotspot inside the emotional center of my brain and decided to shoot every single emotion of whoever was in proximity without even leaving a switch or manual on how to turn it on and off.

Not wanting to reveal the truth, I simply shrugged. "I'm fine, I suppose. My mother was having some kind of screaming fit with my grandmother about something. I don't know what it was about, but my mother was being diabolically rude to her and I don't know why. My grandmother is like the sweetest person and my mother had no right to treat her like that."

"What was the argument about?"

"I think it was about some kind of event. To be honest, I wasnt paying much attention to their conversation. It doesn't matter, anyway. I was more disappointed that neither of them wished me a happy birthday."

"It's natural to feel that way." Even though Hayden wasn't outwardly expressing it, there was a jittery nervousness emitting from him. That was unusual coming from him. He was always calm.

"Why are you so nervous, Hayden?"

Hayden stared at me, startled. He then sighed. "I hate it when you do that."

I bit my bottom lip nervously. "I... I'm..."

"No, don't apologize," he said. "I know it's not your fault. You can't help it. Though, you are right. You see, I was wondering... We are still meeting after you get off work, right?"

I grinned. "Of course we are."

Hayden grinned also. "Great," he said. He then checked his watch. "Shoot, I have to get going. Look, I'll be by the magic shop at three-thirty. Don't forget."

"Have I forgotten any other time you asked me?"

"Well, no, but there's a first time for everyone," he said.

"Well, I tend to never let you down."

Hayden then looked me dead in the eyes. At that moment my heart pounded so hard I thought it would leap right out of my chest as I held his gaze. I was lost, mesmerized by the lightest blue swirls of his eyes that my empathy was for the first time lost to me. I didnt know what either of us was feeling, but there was a peaceful expression on his face.

"What is it?"

"Happy Birthday, Weston," he said after a single heartbeat.

My cheeks heated again. "Thank you, Hayden. It means a lot coming from you."

Without knowing what he was going to do, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and drew me into a hug. I couldn't help but reciprocate the embrace and allowed my hands to come up and rest on my best friend's back. Our breath hitched in sync a little the second I rested my head on his broad shoulder and took in the salty sea-water scent of the ocean. I never understood why he always smelled as if he's been swimming in the ocean, and not even appearing wet. But it didn't matter. It was soothing.

He then pushed me back, much to my disappointment, but he kept his strong, nimble fingers sturdy on my shoulders. "Do me a favor."

"What favor?"

"Try and have some fun at work, okay?"

"I can't do that, Hayden. I'm way too awkward and anti-social to mingle which is why I'm better at putting things on shelves."

"That you are," he teased. "And people should find that quality invigorating. I know it's one of the things I like about you." He smiled as his cheeks reddened. "Look, I just want you to have a good day on your birthday. It's like an unwritten law somewhere that you must have a good day on your birthday."

"It is not."

"It is in my book."

"Well, your book is filled with bizarre things."

He gasped. "It is not."

"If you say so," I teased, laughing.

"Just promise."

"Okay, I'll try," I promised.

"Great," he said, smiling once more before he stood up. "Well, I'll be going now. I don't want to be late. Remember three-thirty. Don't be late."

"I won't!"

"Bye!" Hayden then took off down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner.

"Bye," I whispered. I couldn't stop the giant grin on my assumed reddened face even as the bus pulled up to the curve. As soon as the door slid open, the headache that had receded returned with vengeance as soon as I stepped up the three steps.

Dizzily, I gripped the cold metal pole to keep myself grounded as I raised every shielding technique I could to block out the intense emotions coursing through my mind and psyche. My eyes darted frantically around. There weren't many people, but they were all looking at me.

What was happening to me? Sure, my empathy was strong, but this was ridiculous.