Life Was Known - 2. Chapter Two: Resurrection

Chapter Two: Resurrection

The boy didn't say anything. He didn't speak or move, besides putting a hand in the orange juice puddle. Liam slowly stood up, watching the child, who kept their special blue-grey eyes on his own grey.

“...Stay right here. Don't move, okay?” Liam watched the child for any sign that they were going to bolt, or if they were even listening to him, but the boy did nothing. The man left the child to his bedroom, where he snagged up a blanket and brought it back to the child, rushing to see if he was really seeing the boy.

There was no boy beside the orange juice puddle.

...He had really just imagined it. ...How?

“...Kid?” Liam called out cautiously, looking around the kitchen and living room. There was really no boy. He clutched the blanket tightly. He'd imagined it. How stupid of him. Finally going crazy on the fourteenth anniversary of Noah's death. How pitiful.

He spun and threw the blanket angrily at the couch, but it hit something else, and there was a loud thud against the ground. Liam looked at the ground with wide eyes. Underneath the blanket, was a form, and two short legs sticking out. ...He'd thrown the blanket at the boy and knocked him down. But, he wasn't there a moment ago! Was Liam going crazy or not!

“Stop running around, kid!” Liam grabbed the blanket to pull it off of the boy and- ...no boy. Nothing. He dropped the blanket and pulled out his phone. ...What would he tell the police? There was a ghost running around? Or there was a random boy in his house?

“...Please stop playing games with me,” Liam whispered to himself and closed his eyes. He breathed.

“Stop playing, Noah!” child Liam screamed at his brother, whom he had been trying to find for a least an hour. He knew his twin was in the same room, but every time he went to look in the hiding spot, Noah slipped out and found somewhere else to hide. If Liam looked under the bed, Noah snuck off to the closet. And so on. Liam was close to tears. “I hate being It!” he cried, standing in place with his hands clenched at his sides. He was done trying to find Noah.

“I'm just over here, Liam,” Noah called out. Liam knew better, though, and crossed his arms.

“You aren't playing fair! Stop cheating!”

“I'm not cheating! You're just too slow,” Noah said from behind Liam.

“You're just too slow,” the child said from behind Liam. Liam jumped and turned around. The muddy child was behind him, looking up at the man with his unique eyes. Liam pointed his cell phone at the child.

“Stop running around, got it? Got it?” he said sternly. The boy gave a little nod. Liam stared at him before shaking his head. “What's your parents' phone number, huh?”

The boy didn't speak for a long time, before reciting the phone number. “923-112-0981.”

Liam dialed the number in half way before realizing its familiarity and pausing. “...” He looked at the child. “...You're lying, that phone number isn't in service anymore.”

The child stared up at Liam. “...I'm not lying.”

“Yes you fucking are!” Liam barked, although the child didn't respond. The man dipped down to pick up the blanket. “Put this on, I'm calling the cops.” The child didn't move, keeping their hands to their sides. Liam growled and tossed the blanket around the boy's shoulders, tucking it so that it would stay and keep the boy covered. It was very long, but it covered the child's nudity. Then Liam dialed the police.

“There's a...” Liam watched the boy, who's eyes stared at him. He couldn't say it. He couldn't say “there's a kid in my house”. The words were just... stuck, in his chest.

“Hello?” the operator asked. Liam cleared his throat.

“...There's-”

“Don't,” the child said. Liam stared at the boy. “Don't, please. I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry, Liam,” Noah said, offering his upset brother a smile. Liam glared at him.

“You don't play fair, Noah. You never play fair!”

“I know, I said I'm sorry.”

“That doesn't make you not a cheater!”

Noah pulled his brother into a hug and his brother hugged him back. “...I'm sorry.”

Liam hung up the phone and dropped his hand to his side. He pressed his lips together, watching the child's face.

“...What are you?” he asked softly, looking at the child's eyes. The boy stared into Liam's.

“...Sad.”

“No, I don't mean...”

“I'm sad, Liam.”

Liam's breath halted. He shook his head. A tremor went through him, powerful enough to almost make him sob, but he didn't. He stared at the boy. “How do you know my name?”

“Liam...” the child stepped forward, looking up at the man. “He's gonna hurt someone else.”

l.l

Liam didn't accept that the child was Noah, and he couldn't believe that what he was seeing and hearing was actually real, but when he closed his eyes and opened them again, the child was still there. At least the vanishing game was over.

“...Don't trip,” Liam said of the beer bottles on the bedroom floor. The child didn't seem to mind them, stepping right over and to the bathroom. Ditching the blanket at the bathroom door, the two went to the bathtub and Liam started the water, turning on the shower head. “Just um, wash up. I'll find something for you to wear.”

The child nodded and climbed into the tub, standing underneath the pouring water. Liam watched for a second to make sure the kid was okay before going into the bedroom, where he started looking for clothes. Anything to fit a child.

The kid looked to be at least nine or ten, and he was short and skinny. Liam got the smallest t shirt he could find and cut some old pants down to size. They were just some old sweats, but they had a drawstring that would hopefully make them not fall down. As for underwear, the kid could live without while Liam figured out what to do.

Carrying the clothes back to the bathroom, Liam saw that the child was still caked in mud. He set the clothes down and went over.

“Wash up, kiddo, what are you doing?” He grabbed the scrubber and put some soap on it. The child just watched him, the water making some light streaks through the mud to show their skin color, which was light. Liam huffed and started scrubbing the child down, struggling just a little with some mud that was really stuck on. “Why the hell are you naked and muddy?” Liam asked. The child didn't reply.

“Ow!” the boy cried when Liam scrubbed their hand. He looked at the boy, who had pulled their hand away.

“...What?”

“It hurts.”

“Well, let me see.”

The child held their hand back out and Liam looked at it. The boy's nails were bloody and torn, broken. Liam looked at the boy's face.

“What the hell happened?” he asked a little too seriously. The child pulled his hand back to him.

“...It was dark,” he murmured. Liam furrowed his eyebrows.

“What was?”

“The box.”

“...What bo...” Liam looked the child up and down. Muddy, with broken nails, and they were in a box. “T-tell me what happened?”

The child looked into Liam's eyes. “I woke up in a box. And it was dark.”

“...And then?”

“I got out.”

“But, why are you all muddy? What- what happened?”

“I...” the child's eyes rolled and they suddenly fell. Liam caught them before they could hurt them self and shook the boy.

“Hey, hey!” He put his ear to the boy's mouth, where he heard an intake of breath. He wasn't dead. “Hey, wake up,” Liam pat the child's cheek, but he didn't wake up. Picking the boy up out of the tub, Liam put him on the floor and opened up the medicine cabinet, where he started rummaging.

Smelling salt!

“Wait, what is it?” Noah asked their dad, who was failing at concealing his snickering.

“It wakes people up if they're asleep, you have to smell it,” David said. Liam rose an eyebrow and looked at his brother. Noah straightened up and shrugged.

“Okay, I'll smell it,” the boy said. David snickered more and tore open the small package, revealing the pink stick inside. Then he put it up to Noah's nose and the boy sniffed it before coughing and choking. David burst out laughing, and so did Liam. The boy looked at his twin while laughing.

“Are you okay?” he laughed. Noah breathed out harshly through his nose, trying to get the smell out.

“Ugh, no! Dad, that's gross!”

“It woke you up, though, didn't it?” David bellowed, slapping his knee.

The child gasped awake and Liam moved the smelling salt away. The child coughed and scrunched his nose. “...Ew...”

“You okay?” Liam asked. The boy gave a tiny nod. “...You fainted. Have you eaten or anything?” The child's stomach rumbled. Liam sighed and pulled the boy up to his feet. “Let's finish washing you up first, okay? Then we'll find... something, to eat.” He lifted the boy back into the tub and finished washing him. When he was scrubbing the boy's back, he saw a birthmark just under his left shoulder blade. But he pretended he didn't.

Once the child's hair and body were washed, Liam dried him off before fixing up his fingers. It looked like he'd scratched his way out of something. His right ring finger's nail was gone, leaving pain and blood underneath. The boy must have been adamant.

Ten band-aids later, Liam dressed the kid and brought him to the kitchen.

He looked like Noah's copy. His hair was black, his eyes were Noah's eyes, he had his birthmark, his face.

Liam gave the boy toast and mashed potatoes. “I don't... have anything else,” he said. The child didn't answer, just eating. Liam also gave the child was juice was left in the orange juice container, before finishing cleaning up the mess and the mud on the bathroom floor from when the child fainted. Then he returned and the boy was still scarfing down his food. Liam sat in front of him and cleared his throat, getting the boy's attention.

“How'd you get here?” he asked.

“Uh waffed,” the child said through a mouth of food. Liam made him swallow it before he said it again. “I walked.”

“From where?”

“The box.”

“Where was the box, kiddo?”

“...The graveyard.”

“Alright, what are your parents' real phone number?” Liam asked flatly, getting his phone. The child swallowed another bite and repeated the number.

“ 923-112-0-”

“No, your real number!”

“That is it!”

“You're lying!”

“I'm not!” the boy screamed. “I'm not lying, Liam!”

“How do you know my name! What are you?” Liam rest his forehead in his hand, closing his eyes. “...What are you?”

“Sad,” the child said, but the tone of their voice made Liam look at them. The boy was crying. His bottom lip was trembling and he gave a single sob. Liam sighed and shook his head.

“That's not what I mean,” he murmured. The child started sobbing and Liam got up to walk to the boy, putting a reluctant hand on his shoulder. The child hugged him around his waist and cried against him. Liam sniffed. What the hell was going on? “...Sorry for yelling at you, kiddo,” he said. The child ignored him.

The two stayed like that for a while, the boy crying against Liam until he fell asleep, his arms falling to his sides. Then, Liam picked him up and carried him to the bedroom, where he lay him down on the mattress and covered him up. Then, he started picking up the room, much to his laziness and morbid depression. He did not want to be cleaning right now.

Once the bottles and cans were gone, he tossed the clothes into a pile in the corner for the time being, because he'd never bothered to buy a laundry basket.

Ring, ring, ring... Liam answered his phone, which showed it was from Ashe.

“Hello?” he asked while picking up the last article of clothing.

“Hey, man, you left me! What the hell?”

“Sorry, I have a life.”

“You left me to have sex with Sam, that's like, not worth leaving me here.”

“It is to an extent.” Liam left to pick up the bathroom, too.

“Well, come back! Don't leave me here with James!”

“Dude, he's your brother. I'm taking the day off of being social for myself. See ya.” Liam hung the phone up and started washing out the tub, which had mud at the bottom. Then, he went to his desk and got on his computer, going online.

In the search bar, he started doing his own investigating.

Missing boy; black hair, grey/blue eyes, Caucasian, 10 years old.

The only thing that came up was Missing: Noah Taylor, black hair, grey eyes, caucasian, 10 years old. That wasn't what Liam was looking for.

Everything that came up led back to Noah. His time missing, his murder... But there was no plausible explanation for it.

He should have called someone; the police, DHS, someone, but Liam just couldn't bring himself to. He instead started typing more on the Dewsome book, Those Close to Us.

“Marsha was running late for school. Her father ushered her out of the front door and her mother drove her to school, and they were in such hurries that there were no “I love you”'s spoken. Mrs. Dewsome returned home, where Mr. Dewsome was just leaving for work. There, she did her normal routines; washed the dishes, did the laundry, made the beds, walked the dog, and put a meal together for Marsha for when she returned home from school.

Marsha was due home at 2:40 PM. It was normal for her to walk home, because she liked to walk her friends to their houses along the way. But, when 3:00 hit, she wasn't home. Mrs. Dewsome called the school, and they reported that she had been there all day until school let up. They also reported that she walked home with fellow classmate and friend Sally Havel.

Mrs. Dewsome waited another twenty minutes for Marsha to come home, because it wasn't uncommon for a child to get carried away with their friends. She still didn't return home. Mrs. Dewsome called Mr. Dewsome home from work and when he arrived, they drove to the Havel house to ask about their daughter.

She had never arrived.

As Sally told them, she and Marsha parted ways a block before the Havel house. That was the last Sally saw of her friend, who continued on the route to home.

Mr. and Mrs. Dewsome made the dreaded call to the authorities,” Liam wrote.

“You were supposed to pick them up!” Miranda screamed at David, who looked offended.

“Me? Me? I was at work! How the hell are you gonna stand there and blame me! You shouldn't have been sitting around on your ass doing who-knows-what!” he yelled back at her. Liam sobbed, standing between them. He grabbed his dad's arm.

“Daddy, it's my fault,” he sobbed, rubbing his pouring eyes with his other hand, his nose dripping. “I didn't mean to leave him!” he cried. David scowled at Miranda.

“You were supposed to pick them up!”

“I wouldn't have to if you were here! You're never here!” she screamed and lashed out at her husband, slapping him hard against his chest. Liam bawled and looked to his side to look at Noah, but he'd already forgotten he wasn't there, and that that's why this was happening. The child looked back at his parents, David trying to get a hold of his wife as she slapped and hit him in a rage of blind fury. “This isn't my fault!”

“Mommy, stop it!” Liam cried when his mother hit David hard across the face. Her husband threw her down against the ground.

“I'm calling the police!” David yelled through his own glassy eyes, looking down at his wife's tear stained, furious face. Liam's bawling cries filled the room with his mother's heavy breathing. “Because this isn't helping find our boy!”

Liam tossed the beer can into the trash and grabbed another, laying down on the couch. Then there was knocking on the front door. “Who is it?” he called.

“Ashe!” Ashe called back. As Liam was wondering how he got there with out his car, Ashe called, “And James!”

Liam set his beer on the floor and got up from the couch before going off to his bedroom. Looking inside, the child was still sleeping. He shut the door and went to let Ashe and James in. Before Ashe could say anything, Liam held up a hand to stop him. “Don't be too loud, I have a shitty hangover,” he lied. Ashe bought it, though, because he bought anything, and laughed.

“We're here to get his car,” James said. “After we find the keys.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Good luck with that. Bedroom's a mess, don't go in there.” Ashe went and flopped down onto the couch, laying where Liam had been and picking up the beer to drink it. Liam shook his head. “Look's like you're finding the keys,” he said to James. James was already walking to the couch, where he grabbed the back of it and picked it up, dumping his brother out onto the floor.

“Find the fucking keys, Ashe, this ain't your house,” he scolded. He basically took up the role of parenting Ashe as they grew up. Ashe spilled some beer on his shirt and scoffed at his brother.

“Dude, really?”

James walked around the couch and kicked his brother, who rolled on the ground with a groan. Then, looking under the couch, the idiot said, “Well, they ain't under here.”

Liam rummaged through old junk mail on the coffee table for the keys. There was no telling where Ashe had left them. “Are they in your fucking pockets, Ashe?”

“No! Jeez, you guys have no confidence in me!”

“Who the hell would?” James walked into the kitchen to look for them.

Liam heard a noise from the bedroom and hoped it was just him. He stood nearby so that he could stop anyone from going in if they'd noticed. If the kid was awake, hopefully he could take a hint. “Yeah, a fucking raccoon messed up my place earlier,” he called. Ashe looked at him and laughed.

“Man, that sucks. You cleaned up pretty good, though.”

Liam shrugged.

Just as James called out an, “I found them!”, there was a clatter from the bedroom. Ashe rose his eyebrows.

“Dude, is it still here?”

James stepped out of the kitchen and looked over. “Is what?”

“Raccoon,” Ashe said. Liam sucked his teeth and shook his head.

“No, it's gone- the place is like, really falling apart lately.”

“You know what diseases those things carry?” James easily pushed passed Liam and went into the bedroom, his brother following not far after. Liam also went inside.

“Guys, there's really nothing here,” he said, looking at the empty bed. What a little shit. Glancing around the room, he personally didn't see the child anywhere. Apparently, neither could the other guys. “I told you,” Liam spoke, “It's gone.”

James looked skeptical, but Ashe was over the moon about his keys, which he'd apparently put in the blender for whatever reason. Liam grabbed both of their arms.

“Come on, y'all should get going,” he said. Walking them both outside, Ashe turned to him once they were at the cars. He offered a smile to the writer before hugging him.

“I'm not really that dumb, so I know what today is,” he said, patting his friend's back. Then he pat Liam's head. “If you need anything, you can come by the bar. James got some good liquor in earlier.”

James nodded and reached out to pat Liam's shoulder. “On the house.”

Liam put his hands in his pockets. “Well, if it's on the house...” he broke a smile that made Ashe cheer, but then he looked back at the house. “I've gotta get a move on with this book,” he said. James nodded.

“Yep, come on, midget,” he grabbed his brother and pushed him in the direction of his car, to which the redhead scoffed, his face flushing.

“I am not short, asshole,” he griped, although he was a few inches shorter than his brother and friend. James shrugged him off and got into his own car, and Liam waved to the two before heading back into the house. Inside, he went to the bedroom to look for the kid.

“Hey, still here?” he asked. The kid popped his head out from under the bed. He always seemed to be looking into Liam's soul with his eyes.

“Who were they?” the boy asked, laying his head against the floor, the rest of his body still hidden. Liam rose his eyebrows and breathed.

“My friend Ashe and his brother James.”

“Ash isn't a name.”

“No, but when you put an “e” at the end, it changes things. Come on out of there.” Liam waved the kid out and he picked his head back up to crawl out. Once he was out, he sat against the bed on the floor. Liam walked over and knelt in front of him, the boy staring at him. “...You up for a drive?” he asked. The child gave a tiny shrug that made the over sized shirt fall off his shoulder.

l.l

Liam had given the boy a coat, because it was cold and wet outside. It made him look tiny, but it stayed on pretty good and kept him warm. Inside the truck, the kid sat criss-cross and watched out the windows.

Liam was driving him to the cemetery. It was ten miles by driving. That means the kid walked at least two and a half miles to get to the house- if he was telling the truth. It all sounded too wild to be the truth, though.

“You doing okay?” Liam asked the boy, glancing at him. He didn't have any shoes to fit the kid, so he was wearing socks that went up to his knees. The kid nodded, despite his socks being dirty from walking to the truck. Liam looked back to the road.

...There was just no plausible explanation.

“Before,” the man said, “You said, “He's going to hurt someone”. Did someone kidnap you? Did you run away?”

The child was silent for a minute before answering, “He's going to hurt him.” Liam looked at the child.

“Who? I can't help if you don't tell me who this guy is. You don't want me telling the police, right?”

The boy didn't respond. Before Liam could ask again, they arrived at the graveyard. Liam got out of the truck and walked around to help the kid out, picking him up and setting him on the ground.

“Okay, walk me,” he said. The child started walking. He paused to pull up one of his socks that were trying to fall off, and then continued along the graves, looking at each and every one of them. He paused at one that Liam knew and looked as though he were reading the tombstone.

David Taylor: Loving son, brother, father, and friend. With all love and kindness, you've gone.

Liam pressed his lips together and looked away. He missed him. That's how it's supposed to be, though. The child buries the parent. David was glad when he was dying, because he still had a son to bury him. He'd said to Liam once, shaking his head and crying, “A parent is never supposed to bury their child”. Liam agreed. Those were true words.

The boy reached out and touched the tombstone, keeping his hand on it for a moment, before letting his hand fall back to his side. He started walking again, looking at the stones like he hadn't even stopped. Liam followed him. Until the child stopped at a very specific grave.

Noah Taylor: Beautiful son, brother, and friend. Taken too soon.

It wasn't the child stopping at the grave that made Liam's heart stop and his gut turn. It was the hole in the ground, where something had crawled through.

There was no plausible explanation.

The child looked up at Liam with his haunting eyes. “Do you believe me now, Liam?” he asked.