Chapter 23: THE NYX

Rose didn’t sleep at home. After waking up from a nightmare, Noah finds himself alone. The morning sunlight spills into the table, the sofa, the many things. He eats breakfast while looking for directions. The place is not so far away, so he’ll walk. To think about his next steps, to further prolong the inevitable. To clear his mind, to calm his anxiety. 

The morning breeze of the early summer is a relief from the hot nights, the tossing, kicking, and turning while his conscience is devoured by two blinding lights again and again. He’s wearing his green parka with a T-shirt. His sneakers with the ghost of blood have been washed many times until the scarlet turned into faint rosy circlets. He’s forced to put on Riley’s jeans in the absence of his own pair—still on the turned-off washer—, but he found some black jeans with barely visible rips. Still, the tightness suffocates every inch of his skin.

He decides to stop by the café on his way, and briefly greets Rose while waiting for his iced-tea-to-go. Noah doubts she was up all night judging by her perfect makeup, and her bright smile. He tells Rose he’s going to Rune’s godparents’ shop.

The streets are busy with children going to school, workers hurrying carrying suitcases, or students with backpacks riding bicycles. They have meetings to attend, lives to live, mortgages to pay, futures to create. When Noah was studying for the admission exams, he liked to go to the library early in the morning on his free days, especially to get away from the loneliness of his home. He was part of that current, and he wonders if someone ever looked at him the way he’s looking at the people. 

 In between a garage and a restaurant, the club is a small building with big windows, and a sign that reads NYX CLUB which is now turned off, revealing the grey tubes behind its magic. On the light of day, the place doesn’t seem special. The knob is hanging from the open door, and the entrance is sealed by yellow tape warning onlookers that there’s a crime scene inside. Some curious neighbors have gathered around the perimeter. Noah gets closer to hear their murmured gossip. 

“I heard she was a hostess.” An old woman comments.

“Was it that kind of place?”

The old woman nods emphatically. “With all this places spreading in the neighborhood, it was just a matter of time.”

Some cops carry cardboard boxes out of the club. A detective with civilian clothes is talking to a man in his forties. The man has a strong frame, salt and pepper beard and tattooed arms. He’s dressed in jeans and a fitted black T-shirt. Noah clutches his messenger bag, and wills his breathing to even out, and his beating heart to slow down to a trot. 

But his step is frozen mid air when a hand snatches his wrist, and he’s suddenly looking at piercing black eyes below a two-colored hair. He lowers his gaze, to where Rune’s hand closes against the sleeve of his parka, the fabric scrunching up. 

“What are you doing here?” Noah blurts, because he’s not ready to hear the same question from Rune’s lips. 

The question lingers between them, as time stretches. Noah swallows. 

Rune doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t bounce back the question either. The boy’s eyes dart to his pants. Noah feels the pressure in his wrist release, and he tries to step forward. This time, Rune doesn’t stop him. However, he feels his presence in the corner of his space, a warm shadow lingering just outside of reach, but close enough. He knows Rune is following his movements. Together, a stolen body and a shadow, they approach the man. 

“Excuse me, sir.” Noah greets.

The man narrows his eyes. His arms are crossed at his puffed chest, his feet shoulder width apart. Noah puts his hands in his pockets.

“If you’re a reporter, I have nothing to say.” His voice booms in Noah’s bones.

“No. No. We’re not reporters. I… knew Lola.” 

He considers Noah from head to toe, and up again. “You don’t seem to be Lola’s type.”

Noah’s cheeks burn at the insinuation. He brings up his hands and shakes them. “Oh, no. We were friends… I... visited her in her work.”

“Oh? I don’t remember you,” his voice has an edge of doubt.

Noah points to his clothes, “I’m easy to forget.”

The shadow in his periphery shifts slightly. 

“Anyways, when I saw the news, I just couldn’t believe it. I still remember her…” Blue short hair. Her brown eyes. Her wide smile. The blue glitter makeup, and silver earrings. Her skin shining a tone of yellow under the neon sign.

“You’re mistaken,” the man interrupts his train of thought, and Noah realizes he said it out loud. He clasps one hand over his mouth. “No wonder I din’t recognize you. You’re talking about Artemis. She worked here three years ago.” He shakes his head, probably remembering something. “Poor girl. She was also murdered.”

“I… She…” It’s spinning. Her face, clear as water. “May I see a picture of Artemis?”

The man takes out his phone. He unlocks the screen and taps a few times. “Here.”

“She worked at Nyx,” Noah whispers, fearing his words might wake a beast inside if said too aloud. As if the words are an ancient spell. It makes everything too real, too close. “Leo, she was Artemis.”

You are reading story There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children at novel35.com

His hands fall by his sides, for once too paralyzed to even tremble. His mouth hangs open. He whips his head to Rune, a silent question in his eyes. A question Rune can’t answer either. 

“She was my best worker.”

Noah listens in silence, his eyes wide, still looking at Rune. Hoping his presence can anchor him.

“But we always thought the culprit was the other guy.” He clicks his tongue. “I guess we were wrong. And it really was that Noah Davies.”

“The other guy?” Noah’s breathless voice sounds too alien, as if he’s not the one talking, but just audience. 

“The rich boy. He wore expensive suits.” He cracks his knuckles. “His name sounded like a city. Rich people things, I tell you.”

“He was her boyfriend.” It’s a hesitant affirmation, asking to be confirmed without really being a question. 

The man nods. 

And he remembers her.

She’s wearing the universe in her rhinestone dress, and the lights of the place reflect on her electric blue hair—not her real curly hair, but a wig— as she dances, throwing her arms around, and swaying her hips. She’s smiling, her deep red lipstick smeared where she’s been kissed. She’s smiling at someone.

But when he looks further, there’s nothing. It’s a dirty glass, but no matter how much he wipes it, the image is distorted. The echo of a pain spreads behind his eyes, and he presses the heels of his palms against them. 

And breathing is so much difficult when he has to force his chest to expand every single time. He clutches his aching chest. Noah doesn’t distinguish what’s clawing at him, if he’s trying to bare his throat, or if something inside is tearing at his flesh to get out. It’s raw, more primitive than fear itself. Riley’s voice folds ten thousand times, raising a chant that is screaming at him. 

“Take me away,” he pleads. Because remembering hurts, and he’s tired of aching. 

He wants to escape. 

Noah takes a step back, bumping into a soft body that firmly anchors to that place, to that moment. His warm breath tingles his neck as Rune leans in, and whispers in his ear. “Let’s go.” 

Rune slides his hand in Noah’s. The latter barely notices the tug. Suddenly, they’re walking away from the club. He takes a look back at Nyx, expecting to remember something, to feel. But he finds himself relieved to put some distance between the club and themselves. He lets himself be dragged through the cobblestone streets.

At some moment, he’s conscious enough to take a cig out of his packet. However, Rune snatches it away, taking a long drag before throwing it to the floor. “I know what happens when you smoke.” Rune explains upon hearing Noah’s whine. “Do you want danger?”

Noah meets his black eyes. “I want it,” he confesses, letting out a breath.

“I can give you danger without hurting yourself.”

Noah nods, accepting the proposal.

He needs to feel the destruction on every fiber of his soul. Rune understands, somehow. ‘I see you’, that’s the real meaning behind his words. He’s offering the surge of adrenaline Noah needs.

Noah doesn’t mind to be seen, for now.

He wants to be seen.

The Corvette speeds away under Rune’s command, and they head for the outskirts of the city. They leave behind the revelation.

But Noah just knows it. 

It will change everything.

You can find story with these keywords: There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children, Read There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children novel, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children book, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children story, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children full, There Is Nothing Wrong With The Children Latest Chapter