Life Was Known - 1. Chapter One: Hide and Seek

Chapter One: Hide and Seek

Beep beep beep beep-

Liam reached over the bed to shut off his alarm. Then he lay in bed for a few long moments, his eyes heavy and begging for more rest, his mind just as weak.

Waking up at five in the morning just to write was the biggest mistake. He never got anything written with his head throbbing in lack of sleep. This morning was even more unforgiving because he had passed out drunk last night, and his head was already paining.

Get up, Liam.

The man breathed out heavily through his nose and sat up in his messy bed. He put a hand to his head with a heavy hiss of pain and mentally went through what he would have done differently last night: put an end to his menace of an alarm, not invite Ashe over so he wouldn't have such a dry hangover, written something worth...something, because his deadline is impending and he hasn't written a single chapter in a week.

“Fuck,” he grumbled to himself and started climbing out of bed. He stumbled but caught himself and headed to the bathroom. Dirty clothes scattered across the bedroom floor, along with old beer cans and bottles, none of which he knew when they got there. He just seemed to drink a lot more lately. And Ashe didn't help, because the bartender knew his liquor, and he liked it strong.

The bathroom was no cleaner. Dirty clothes lay in the corner of the small room, hidden by the side of the door. There were empty shampoo or body wash bottles tossed about when Liam found they were empty, because he just hadn't a care in the world.

He stepped to the toilet and unzipped his jeans, pulled himself out of his boxers to pee. The house was silent, besides the tinkle of his urination and his sniffs from sleeping without a blanket. He could hear some other faint sound, but he didn't dwell on what it was and just put himself away before turning to the sink. There, he started washing his hands, forearms, face- drank some of the tap water to help his headache to no avail.

He brushed his teeth and took some pills, and then splashed his face with some cold water to further wake up, because he just felt beyond shitty.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

His face was pale, water dripping down his chin and catching in his morning stubble. Droplets gathered at the tips of his black eyelashes before falling and hitting his cheeks like tears. His lips looked full and red because of his spicy toothpaste that always irritated them, making it look like he had been making out with someone for a while.

He sighed heavily and looked at his eyes. Grey irises lined with the grey of sad health and insomnia, he wanted to see his brother's eyes but never could. Fraternal twins, Liam had grey eyes while his brother had a lighter, more beautiful and unique color between grey and blue. Liam always wanted his brother's eyes as children. Now, he could hardly remember just what they looked like, exactly.

Liam left the bathroom and the unknown sound got louder as he headed to the living room. His real goal was the kitchen, but he had to go through the living room to get there. And evidently, as he entered the living room, he found a snoring Ashe on his couch. No wonder he didn't have a girlfriend. His snoring was horrendous.

In the kitchen, Liam started some coffee and got a glass of orange juice to wait. Rather than a 'glass', it was one of the plastic cups laying around from he and Ashe's drinking shenanigans last night; because he hadn't washed his real dishes in days. And for breakfast, he mixed up some instant potato flakes with hot tap water and some salt- bam, mashed potatoes.

Sitting at the kitchen table, the man ate his potatoes and drank his juice, staring off into space while he listened to Ashe's persistent snoring and the coffee's Liamant spitting. The coffee smell stung his nose like a beautiful flower.

“No, Mom said this much coffee- not anymore,” Noah scolded Liam near the coffee pot. Noah held a small measuring cap of four tablespoons, filled with coffee grains from the Folgers bin. Liam gave his brother a look.

“She said that's just for one person- I wanna make some for Dad too,” he said. Noah gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Then you just do it again! Like,” the boy poured the grains into the machine, “That's for one person,” he filled the cap again, of four tablespoons, “And now it's two people.” Noah looked at his brother to see if he understood, but Liam was looking away because he hated it when Noah was right. As if on cue of the childish tension, the two's father, asleep in his recliner in the living room, gave a loud, hearty snore that made the two crack up into a laughing fit.

Liam sat at his desk with his coffee, sipping the hot delicacy lightly to not scorch himself. It was bitter, like he always made it. He could never make it right.

In front of him on the desk were photos, notes, and copies of the case file on the Dewsome case. The murder/investigation of ten yearold Marsha Dewsome, whose murderer was her own uncle, remaining unsolved for five years. Liam was stuck on the first chapter of her story. He knew how to start it off: Marsha was walking home from school, when a man offered her a ride home. The first sign that it was someone she knew, because she accepted. Liam just couldn't bring himself to start writing because... he just couldn't.

As if to save him from writing, Ashe came into the room, with Liam's jug of orange juice in hand. Why they weren't best friends.

“Hey, you wanna help me open shop?” he asked, his voice slow from sleepiness. Liam gave him a look.

“I have a story to write.”

“Aw come on, Lizzy said she ain't coming in today, and I hate being there alone with James.” James, Ashe's older brother, who rightfully owned the bar. He was stern, demanding, and always got his way. He should have been the place's bouncer.

Liam huffed and looked at his computer screen. The cursor blinked sitting in place, waiting to write something for the dead girl whose case information lay scattered on Liam's desk. The man ultimately stood up from his seat and turned to Ashe. “Put that juice back up- you better not be drinking out of the carton,” he said. Ashe rolled his brown, naturally big eyes and left the room to put the orange juice back into the fridge.

Liam went back to his bedroom to grab a sweater and pull it on. It was always colder out here at the house; it was Liam's dad David's, whom had left it to him when he got sick. Miranda, the boys' mom, left the family not long after the incident. Last Liam knew, she'd remarried in Michigan and had another kid. Last he knew.

“Oh fuck, Liam, I'm late! Hurry, come on!” Ashe yelled, his voice warbled from a sleepy hangover. Liam left his bedroom and slipped passed Ashe, who was patting his jean pockets and looking around for his car keys, to pull on his shoes. Liam was ready. Ashe wasn't. “Dammit!”

“Just let me drive, come on.” Liam snatched up his own car keys and stepped outside, seeing Ashe lumbering after him in the corner of his eye.

Walking up to his beat up Chevy, Liam hopped in and Ashe followed. The truck was a gift from their friend Carlos, the only one out of the group to actually get some good money. Sam had a good job at the clinic, but it was only a matter of time before she got caught for forging prescriptions.

Liam started up the truck and started driving down the muddy road to town, which was about an eight minute drive from the trailer out in the trees. David always liked living in privacy. It was okay, too, because Miranda was a stay-at-home wife while he went out trucking, so the boys were never home alone to get kidnapped or hurt. That's how it was supposed to be, anyway.

“Shit man, James is gonna kill me!” Ashe whined. Liam shook his head.

“I think you're supposed to know by now that being drunk every other day doesn't look good on the job resume.”

Ashe scoffed. “Dude, you're drunk like, every day.”

“With good reason; my boss is up in-”

“Yeah yeah, cut it with the “I've got a rich sugar daddy up in the high state”.”

Liam gave Ashe a sideways glance. “You saying “sugar daddy” is enough to make anyone's dick fall off. My publisher.”

“Well, Liam, not everyone can have a rich publisher, okay!” Ashe leaned forward to turn on the radio, which had some awesome rock music playing. Liam rolled his eyes and sat back.

“Anyway, Carlos gets a shit ton more money than all of us. Stop griping at me.” Liam could see Ashe glare at him in the corner of his eye and he just picked up the speed. The faster they got there, the faster James could yell at Ashe and embarrass him in front of everyone. Carlos worked real estate in the nice side of town, which was why no one really saw him much. He couldn't be seen in the dumps to often. Bad for business.

They reached town a few minutes later and pulled up to the bar. The OPEN sign was turned, and apparently they were about fifteen minutes late. Whoops.

“Get out, get out,” Ashe said and clambered out of the truck. Liam got out after and followed Ashe inside, where James was making some pitchers of tea; some regulars sat nearby and talked to him, their cigarette smoke making up the place. When James saw Ashe and Liam come in, he pointed at his brother, a cigarette between his fingers. The action of pointing made a stick of burning ash fall off of the end.

“You're late, asshole. And where the fuck is Lizzy?” he asked, the regulars turning their heads to look at Ashe, like it was a show. It always was for them. If the two had an argument that fell short of amusement, they'd all groan and shake their heads in disappointment.

Ashe puffed. “She said she ain't coming in today! I don't know! I brought Liam, though.”

“I don't fucking want Liam, I want you and Lizzy to do what I pay you for!” James looked at Liam, who watched him in hopes that he'd just send him home. “No offense Liam,” he added, to which the noirette shrugged. Then Liam looked back to his brother. “Get your ass over here and wash some fucking dishes- you're on bathroom duty tonight, too.”

“Aw, James!” Ashe cried, his life visibly draining from him. His brother pointed his burning cigarette at the sink, which was piled from the lunch and dinner services yesterday that Ashe had probably skipped out on washing. As Ashe stalked off to the sink, James rose his cigarette to get a deserved puff, but it had burned away to the butt while he made the teas and griped at his brother. He sucked his teeth and snuffed it out. Liam walked up to the counter to sit on a bar-stool. He may have been dragged there, but it didn't look like he was being forced to participate in the punishments.

“Hey, Liam,” James greeted. He was still an eighties kid at heart, who spent some good time at the mirror greasing his hair and making it look good. He was handsome,give or take. Nice eyes and body, but a pretty nasty scar on his left cheek from a bar fight that got out of hand back in the day. He had the same green eyes as Ashe, but his hair was black while his younger brother's was an ashy red. Liam and Ashe grew up together, to an extent, and James, being eleven years older than the two made him their babysitter, so he and Liam were well acquainted.

“Hey, James.”

“How's your new book coming along? Ashe says it's a good one.”

“They're never “good ones”. It's the Dewsome case.”

“Ah,” James took the pitchers to put them in the fridge and lit a new cigarette, taking quite a few puffs before smothering himself with a long drag. All of his years smoking made his voice a little dry, but apparently that and his scar had girls lining up to sleep with him. He may even have a kid by now. Or two. Or three, plus. “That one down south,” he continued, “What year was it?”

“1994.”

“Mm. Sure do remember that one- threw everybody into a panic. Even the college girls were scared.”

Liam shrugged and nodded. He was twelve when Marsha was killed. James was about twenty three; he'd never gone to college, but he'd been known to sneak a hot car ride with a few of the girls there. Liam remembered the case like it were on his forehead. He'd watched it all unfold on the news, read the papers, listened in on the gossip- all up until they caught the man responsible. Her uncle. And now he was even writing the book on it.

“Hey kiddo,” James said, taking a drag of his cigarette that would undoubtedly help set him on the course of cancer. “Don't let it get to you. I know it's about that time.”

Liam chuckled, but a pain in his chest choked it. He dropped his gaze down to the bar. “About that time.” He didn't notice, but he had been having more trouble the last few days. Tossing more drinks back than usual probably meant something. “Can I snag a drag?” he asked, reached out for James's cigarette since he didn't have his own. The bartender handed it over and the other noirette took a puff. He looked at the clock on the wall. “...You got today's date?”

James pulled up the date on his phone and clicked his tongue. “...Twenty fifth.”

Liam nodded, smoking James's cigarette. “Well,” he sighed, blowing out a stream of smoke. “I guess it's that time.”

James lit another cigarette, leaving Liam the other. He lit the tip and puffed from it. “They'll get him some day, kid.”

Kid, even though Liam was twenty four now. The noitette shrugged but didn't say anything. His chest was constricted and he couldn't trust his voice to come out alright. James pat the man's head before leaving to serve one of the regulars, and Liam looked at Ashe to watch his friend wash the dishes. His phone went off in his coat pocket and he pulled it out to look at it, which was better than watching Ashe try and hide a plate he just broke on accident.

It was a phone call from Sam. He wasn't a prick, so he answered despite not wanting to.

“Hey,” she said softly on the other side of the phone. “Need me to come over tonight?” From the chatter in the background, Liam concluded that she was working and sneaking a phone call. He took a drag from the cancer stick and winced when it burned his throat. He blew the smoke out.

“...Yeah,” he said simply, looking at the cigarette that burned between his fingers.

“Okay, I'll-”

“Can I come over on your lunch break?” He snuffed out the cancer in the ashtray on the bar.

“Well, yeah, of course,” Sam said through a smile. Liam nodded, watching as the cigarette's smoke slowly disappeared.

Lunch break was at noon. In Liam's truck, Sam fucked herself on his cock, her arms wrapped around his neck as she straddled him, her forehead pressed again his and her long bangs tickling his nose. She moaned a little too enthusiastically, her minty bubble gum breath hot against her friend's face. She tried to kiss him, but Liam turned his face away, grunting in pleasure when the girl slipped further down his cock, rolling her hips against him. She slipped her hands into the back of Liam's shirt collar, where her nails scratched him. He pushed her away from him, her back hitting the steering wheel and making it honk. She laughed.

“What?” she asked, biting her bottom lip. Liam huffed.

“You scratched me. And you're high.”

She laughed again. “So? Isn't it better?” She looked into Liam's eyes with her dilated brown. Putting her hands on his chest, she started moving up and down again, the sound of her wet pussy on his cock and her moaning filling the truck once more.

It'd be better if she didn't play with toys that were too big for her. There wasn't as much friction as Liam was hoping for. The man grabbed her hips and helped her move, making her go faster so that he could hurry up and come. Sam leaned forward and kissed him, holding his face so that he wouldn't turn away. He let her, because he decided he was more focused on finishing this and getting some real pussy, or at least going home and getting drunk.

Sam brought a hand down to play with her clit while she fucked Liam's cock, breaking the kiss and straightening up more so that she'd be at a better angle for him to rub against her nerves. She moaned and tossed her head back.

“Oh, Liam!” she gasped, her pussy clenching around the man's cock as she worked herself to an orgasm. It helped add to the friction, and Liam pushed his hips up to fuck against her, shoving his cock deeper inside. Thrusting up against Sam, he fucked her while she orgasmed, the woman clutching his shirt tightly as she played with herself. Liam fucked her harder until he came, his cock pulsing inside of her and spilling cum into his condom.

Sam climbed off of him before he was completely finished and started fixing her clothes, pulling her panties up and smoothing her dress's wrinkles. Liam jerked himself to completion before slipping the condom off and dropping it out of the window. He tucked himself away, thinking about how much he hated sex with Sam. He looked at her, who was already gazing at him with her stupid dilated eyes.

“...You know what day today is?” he asked, feeling as stupid as he thought she was because he even bothers to fuck her. She hummed.

“Nope.”

“It's the day they found Noah.”

“Mm, who's that?”

“...My brother.”

Sam reached out and pat Liam's cheek. “Aw, sorry.”

He shook his head and looked at the parking lot. They were just outside of the clinic, but it was relatively empty because it was a Tuesday. He glanced back at Sam. “I gotta go,” he said. She smiled at him and climbed out of the truck, giving him a wave before turning to leave into the clinic. Liam started the truck and drove back home. He didn't have a reason to be at the bar, and Sam was even more disappointing than expected, so his new goal was to get home, take a shower, and get drunk.

At the house, that was just what he did. He took a shower, had a rightful orgasm, and went to the kitchen to get some beer. Popping it open and taking a drink, he paused with the beer just at his lips when he heard a clatter from outside.

“Fucking raccoons, man,” he dropped his hand to his side and went outside, going to the trashcans. “Get outta here!” he called and kicked a can. A raccoon popped its head out and he grabbed the can, shaking the rodent out. It took off running when it hit the ground. Liam shook his head. “Fucking rodents.”

Bringing the beer back to his lips, his took a few drinks until something else sounded, from the backyard. A loud squeak.

“What the hell?” The man walked around the house to the backyard, where he opened the gate and slipped inside. The swingset David put up for the kids was still there, rusted from years of neglect and rain. One of the swings were rocking.

“Who's back here?” he called out, looking around. The yard was empty, but one of the lawn chairs were knocked over. Liam walked over and picked it back up, looking around the yard once more. “Hello?”

He gave the yard another quick look over before stepping up to the back door and going back inside.

Immediately, he saw that the bathroom's light was on. The door was open and he could hear running water. Going into the bathroom, he turned off the sink and shut off the light, before opening the closet in the hallway and getting one of David's gold clubs. There was definitely someone here.

“Get the hell out of here! There's literally nothing to steal!” he called out, peeking in rooms to see where the perpetrator was. Nowhere. They weren't anywhere. In the kitchen, the fridge was open and his orange juice was on the floor, spilling a mess. “Goddammit.” Liam dropped down to his knees and started cleaning it up with paper towels. “Motherfucker. If you're still here, you'd better get the hell out!” he called, but the house was silent, along with outside. It was probably just some stupid teens.

Grabbing some more squares from the roll, Liam turned back to the puddle to lay them down over it, but just beside the puddle, in front of him, were small, muddy and bare feet. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked up.

A naked boy covered in mud, standing just before him, so dirty that he could barely see their skin color. Liam blinked a few times and sat back, staring at the boy.

“...What the hell? How'd you get in here?” he asked, completely dumbfounded. The child got down on their knees and looked into Liam's eyes, the boy's eyes grey- no, blue- a shade just between to two colors.

...Only one person had those eyes.

“...Noah?”