Ghostbane

The door creaked open, and Oliver stepped inside the shack, his movements cautious as he scanned the dimly lit room. Before he could process anything, a sudden force slammed into him, sending him crashing onto the dirt-covered floor.

"GOT YOU!" Richard snarled, pinning Oliver down with his knee. The impact knocked the wind out of Oliver, and he gasped for breath, flailing beneath Richard's grip.

Oliver's eyes widened in shock and panic. "What the fuck—?!"

Richard didn't wait for an answer. He reeled back his fist and drove it into Oliver's face, hard. A sickening crack echoed in the room as Oliver's head snapped back, blood immediately spurting from his busted lip.

"Start talking!" Richard demanded, his voice sharp with rage. He grabbed Oliver by the collar and yanked him up slightly before slamming him back down. "What the hell is happening here?! What are you planning? What's your motive?! Who else is in your sick cult?!"

Oliver groaned, his face contorted in pain, but he refused to speak. His lips quivered, his eyes darting frantically around the room, looking for an escape. His silence only infuriated Richard more.

"ANSWER ME!" Richard roared, punching Oliver again, this time hitting his nose. Blood spurted out as Oliver let out a choked scream.

Richard was relentless. He rained down another punch, and another. Oliver's face swelled, his breath ragged, his body twitching from the sheer force of the blows. Richard didn't care—he needed answers. And he would beat them out of Oliver if he had to.

"PLEASE! STOP!" Oliver finally cried out, his voice a desperate wheeze. His body shook violently, but Richard didn't stop. He clenched his fist, ready to strike again.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the tense air.

"RICHARD! STOP!"

Max and Amelia stormed into the shack. Max immediately grabbed Richard's wrist, stopping his next punch mid-air. Amelia gasped at the sight of Oliver, his face swollen and bloodied, his teeth scattered across the wooden floor.

"Holy shit, dude," Max muttered, looking between Richard and Oliver. "You trying to kill him or interrogate him?"

Richard's breathing was heavy, his knuckles coated in Oliver's blood. He didn't answer immediately, his chest rising and falling with rage.

"I was interrogating him," Richard finally muttered, yanking his arm free from Max's grip. "And he wasn't saying shit."

Max sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, maybe breaking all his bones won't make him talk faster."

Amelia stepped forward hesitantly. "Richard, are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.

Richard wiped his forehead with his sleeve, the adrenaline still coursing through him. He exhaled sharply. "Yeah… I'm fine. Just… lost control for a second."

Amelia gave him a concerned look but didn't push further. Instead, she turned her attention to Oliver, who was groaning in pain on the ground.

"Did he say anything useful?" Max asked, crouching beside Oliver, poking him slightly with his shoe.

Richard shook his head. "Not a damn thing."

Max sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Great. Guess we're doing this the hard way."

The three of them exchanged glances before turning their attention back to Oliver, who whimpered, his body twitching in pain.

They weren't done with him yet

Richard let out a deep breath, flexing his aching knuckles as he looked down at Oliver's battered face. Blood dripped from Oliver's nose, staining the dirt floor of the shack. His swollen lips trembled as he muttered incoherent words, too dazed from the beating to form a proper sentence.

Max crouched beside them, shaking his head with a smirk. "Man, you really went to town on him."

Richard scoffed, grabbing Oliver by the collar and shaking him. "I asked you a question, freak. Who are you working for? What the hell is this cult?"

Oliver let out a wheezing laugh, his bloody teeth barely visible. "You'll… never get it… It's bigger than you."

Richard clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around Oliver's shirt. He was about to land another punch when Amelia suddenly grabbed his arm.

"Enough," she said firmly, her tone sharp but controlled. "You're not going to get anything out of him if you just keep beating him senseless."

Richard exhaled sharply, his knuckles stinging from repeated impact. He reluctantly let go, allowing Oliver to slump back onto the floor like a discarded rag doll.

Max sighed, stretching his arms. "Alright, we're wasting time. We tie him up and take him with us. If he won't talk here, we'll make him talk somewhere else."

Amelia hesitated. "Isn't that… I don't know… illegal?"

Max snorted. "Oh yeah, because he was such a law-abiding citizen. You want to leave him here so he can run off and finish whatever freaky ritual he started?"

Amelia pursed her lips but didn't argue further.

Richard, rubbing the back of his sore hand, glanced around. "We need something to tie him up with."

Max pointed toward the corner of the shack. "There's a bunch of ropes over there. Not surprising. Bet he's used them on some weird ritual crap."

Richard didn't waste time questioning it. He walked over, kicking aside old bottles and scraps of paper until he found a long coil of rope. The texture was rough and worn, but it would do.

They rolled Oliver onto his stomach as he groaned weakly, barely resisting as Richard wrenched his arms behind his back.

"Damn, you're weak," Richard muttered, tightening the knot around Oliver's wrists.

Oliver coughed, spitting out blood onto the dusty wooden floor. "You have… no idea… what's coming…"

Max crouched down to his level. "Oh yeah? Enlighten us."

Oliver chuckled darkly but didn't say another word.

Max sighed. "Yeah, didn't think so." He turned to Richard. "Tie his ankles too. Don't want him running off like last time."

Amelia crossed her arms, watching uncomfortably as Richard secured Oliver's legs. "I still don't think kidnapping him is the best idea."

Max grinned. "It's not kidnapping. It's preventative measures."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Right."

Once Oliver was fully restrained, Max stood up and dusted off his hands. "Alright, sun's setting. We've been here too long. If no one's coming, we take our new friend home before things get creepy."

Richard and Amelia exchanged glances.

"Where are we even keeping him?" Richard asked.

Max grinned. "My place."

Richard blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. My place. You think we're dropping this creep off at your house with your grandpa around? That old man would exorcise Oliver the second he sees him."

Richard sighed. "You have a point."

Amelia looked between them. "Are you sure your place is safe?"

Max shrugged. "Not really. But I doubt he's got the guts to pull anything."

Oliver suddenly chuckled. "You think… you're safe?"

Max kicked him in the ribs—not hard, but enough to shut him up. "Yeah, yeah, keep laughing, tough guy."

Richard grabbed Oliver by the arm. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

The three of them hoisted Oliver up and began dragging him out of the shack. The sky was already darkening, and the once eerily quiet cemetery now felt even more unnerving. Shadows stretched across the graves, and a cold breeze rustled the trees.

Max glanced at Amelia. "Still think coming here was a good idea?"

Amelia folded her arms. "I don't regret it."

Richard shook his head, glancing at the distant tree line. Something felt off.

"Let's just get moving," he muttered

The three of them stepped out of the cemetery, finally breathing in the fresh evening air. The tension that had clung to them inside the graveyard eased slightly, but exhaustion was starting to creep in. The sky had darkened, and the streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows over the empty roads.

Max stretched his arms behind his head and let out a deep sigh. "Well, that was a day and a half."

Richard scoffed. "You're telling me."

Max glanced down the street, then back at them. "My place is in the other direction. I'll take Oliver with me and figure out what to do with him."

Richard nodded. "Got it. Try not to kill him."

Max smirked. "No promises." With that, he tightened his grip on Oliver, who was still groggy from the beating, and started walking away.

Richard turned to Amelia. "C'mon, I'll walk you home."

She raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Thought you'd be eager to ditch me after all this."

Richard shrugged. "Not leaving you to walk alone at night. Besides, I still have my cycle. Might as well push it while we talk."

She smiled. "Alright then, lead the way."

They started down the sidewalk, the only sounds being their footsteps and the occasional distant honk of a car. The city was alive, but in a quiet way—the kind of peaceful hum that only came with the late hours.

After a few moments of silence, Amelia spoke up. "So… is this, like, a regular night for you?"

Richard smirked. "Yeah, I always beat up cultists in cemeteries before bedtime."

She laughed. "I mean it. This whole exorcist thing… it's kinda insane. You just take on ghosts, cults, and whatever else pops up like it's no big deal?"

Richard sighed. "It wasn't always like this. A few weeks ago, my biggest concern was whether or not I'd pass my math test."

Amelia tilted her head. "And now?"

Richard pushed his cycle along, glancing at her. "Now I'm dealing with shit that shouldn't exist."

She nodded, kicking a small rock on the pavement. "I get it. I mean… I don't, not fully. But I do know what it's like for everything to change overnight."

Richard stayed quiet, sensing there was more she wanted to say.

She hesitated before continuing. "When all this started happening to me, I felt like I was losing my mind. I'd wake up feeling like someone was standing over me, hear whispers that weren't there. And no one believed me."

Richard frowned. "Not even your dad?"

Amelia scoffed. "Especially not him. He kept telling me I was just stressed, that I needed rest. But every night, it got worse. I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating properly. It was like I wasn't even in control of myself anymore."

Richard could hear the frustration in her voice. He knew that feeling all too well.

"But then," she continued, "Nat called you guys, and everything finally made sense. As crazy as it sounded, it was better than thinking I was going insane."

Richard nodded. "Yeah, that's the thing about the supernatural. It makes no damn sense, but somehow, it's still better than the alternative."

Amelia looked up at him. "You ever felt like that?"

Richard exhaled through his nose. "I used to think this exorcist stuff was bullshit. Even when my grandpa tried teaching me, I thought it was all nonsense. Then one day, I saw something I couldn't explain, and just like that, my whole perspective changed."

"What did you see?"

Richard hesitated, his grip tightening on his cycle. "…Something I wasn't ready for."

She studied him for a second before nodding. "Yeah… I get that."

They walked in silence for a while.

Then Amelia smirked. "You know, you're not as much of an asshole as I thought."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She laughed. "I dunno, when I first met you, you gave off that whole 'too cool for this' vibe. But you're actually kinda… decent."

Richard rolled his eyes. "Wow. What a compliment."

She grinned. "I mean it. You're not a bad guy, Richard."

"…Yeah, well, don't go spreading that around. Ruins my reputation."

She chuckled as they finally reached her house. The porch light was on, casting a soft glow over the front yard. She turned to him. "Thanks for walking with me."

Richard gave a small nod. "Yeah. Get some rest."

She waved before heading inside. Richard watched the door shut before he exhaled deeply and climbed onto his cycle.

Now, time to head home.

He pedaled through the dimly lit streets, letting his thoughts drift to everything that had happened. The shack, the tree, the photograph… Oliver's cryptic words. This whole situation was spiraling into something much bigger than just a cursed girl.

As Richard pedaled through the quiet streets, a familiar voice called out.

"Yo, Richard!"

He tensed, pressing the brakes instinctively. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Owen jogging toward him, waving casually.

For a moment, Richard hesitated.

He hadn't seen much of Owen lately—not since… everything. Not since Jackson.

Owen didn't know.

No one did.

To everyone else, Jackson never existed.

But Richard remembered. And every time he looked at his old friends, he felt the gaping hole that no one else could see.

Owen finally reached him, breathing slightly heavy. "Man, you're hard to track down these days."

Richard didn't respond immediately. He just rested his foot on the pedal and stared.

Owen tilted his head. "What? No 'hey man, what's up'?"

Richard exhaled through his nose. "Didn't expect to see you."

Owen scoffed. "Yeah, no shit. You've been MIA. What, got a secret life now?"

Richard just shrugged.

Owen raised a brow. "So? Where you been?"

"Busy."

"Busy with what?"

Richard hesitated. "Work."

Owen crossed his arms. "Right. That mysterious 'part-time job' you refuse to talk about." He squinted. "You're not doing something shady, are you?"

Richard shot him a flat look. "No."

"Then what? What's the big secret?"

Richard exhaled, gripping the handlebars. "It's complicated."

Owen let out a short laugh. "Yeah. That's been your answer for everything lately."

Richard stayed silent.

Owen studied him for a second before shaking his head. "You know, it's weird, man."

Richard finally looked up. "What is?"

"You," Owen said, voice quieter this time. "You've changed."

Richard's grip on the handlebar tightened.

Owen's tone grew more serious. "You barely hang out anymore. You barely talk to anyone. Even when you do, it's like you're not really there."

Richard clenched his jaw.

Owen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know, man. It just feels like something's… missing."

Richard's breath caught in his throat.

Owen didn't know what he was saying.

He didn't realize how right he was.

Owen let out a humorless chuckle. "Guess that's just what happens, huh? People move on. Things change."

Richard swallowed. He wanted to say something—anything—but what was there to say?

"Move on from what?"

"What things?"

If he asked, Owen wouldn't have an answer.

Because he didn't remember.

Richard looked down, gripping the handlebar so tightly his knuckles turned white. "…Yeah."

Owen forced a small smile. "Anyway, I gotta go. Just… don't disappear completely, alright?"

Richard nodded stiffly.

Owen gave him one last glance before turning away, walking off into the distance like nothing had happened.

Like Jackson never existed.

Richard watched him go, the weight in his chest growing heavier.

The world had moved on.

But Richard never could.