A/N: I hope you guys all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Enjoy!
"As for the final part of our broadcast, the small fire in the forest around three miles away from the first houses on the main road has been put out. It was started in the area where local college students were celebrating Hallow's Eve. According to the witnesses of the event, the college students made a bonfire when suddenly a man dressed as a joker threw a bottle of rum into the flames, causing it to go out of control. In the chaos that followed, three people were trampled to death, twenty-five severely injured. Interestingly, Jack William Browning Jr. was among the ones hospitalized; he received multiple grave knife cuts, presumably from the man who started the commotion. Furthermore, Browning was found today in the hospital's morgue, frozen to death. The hospital staff cannot explain this bewildering and strange occurrence. As for the identity of the man, some students recognized Heath, the murderer of Judge William Mitchell. Both he and Jack Browning were convicted..."
Winnifred slapped the TV's button and turned around, lips tightly pressed together. Johnathan wordlessly sat in the couch, eyes fixed on the black screen.
"Well?" Winnifred blankly asked, sitting down next to him. "What do you think?" Johnathan blinked.
"Nothing," He sighed, leaning back on the pillows. The rain lightly patterned on the window pane, streaming down into a puddle outside the windowsill.
Winnifred tucked her legs onto the couch, trying to warm herself. Johnathan wrapped his arm around her small frame, taking off his glasses and closing his eyes. Winnifred breathed on her shuddering fingers. How could Heath do this?
"How could he do this?" She quietly said to no one in particular.
"Easy," Johnathan answered without opening his eyes. Winnifred raised her head up to look at him, his arm slipping down her shoulders.
"Explain then."
Johnathan shifted, trying to get a better position.
"He's never got well with Browning…."
"What a good explanation," Winnifred snorted. "I quarrel with my neighbor so I go and kill him."
"Exactly," Johnathan sighed, then slightly opened his eyes.
"He always viewed everything from the radical side."
"Still, Heath did not want to kill," Winnifred argued, flexing her toes to keep them from freezing. Johnathan bitterly chuckled.
"Of course not. Tell that to Jack. Freddie, you knew Heath better than this. I would even guess that this loose morality or rather this peculiarity is why you became friends with him in the first place. "
Winnifred sadly chuckled into her fist as she remembered her first day in kindergarten. The classroom was chilly and bare, not at all resembling those inspirational stories about first days of school. Winnifred sat down next to her best friend Charlotte Hutchinson. In the desk in front of them was Billy, the proclaimed rebel, and the new boy in an oversized trench coat. In the first ten minutes of class, their teacher made them stand in a circle and introduce each other along with a description. Little Winnifred was super nervous.
"HimynameisWinnifredandIlike...f-fireworks."
"Hi, my name is Heath and my best friend is Freddie."
Not many kindergarteners knew that Freddie was a nickname for Winnifred, so they disregarded his statement. But Winnifred didn't.
The teapot whistled in the kitchen. Johnathan sighed and quickly putting on the glasses, freed his hand and hurried to the kitchen. Winnifred's head lost its support and fell down on the couch's seating. Her eyes absently wandered around the room. Deep inside, she couldn't agree more with Johnathan. Of course she knew that Heath was capable of making a show of various levels of peculiarity. She just never thought that this peculiarity would stop becoming peculiar and become frightening.
Johnathan returned from the kitchen carrying to small cups of tea. He stared at Winnifred, wordlessly ordering her to get up. Winnifred sighed and sat up, allowing Johnathan to sit down.
"Thanks," Winnifred sipped the scorching tea. Johnathan picked up the remote from the floor and turned on the television.
"The search for the man who murdered Jack Browning and caused the fire in the forest is on. The police have already searched the area..."
"Do you think they'll find him?" Winnifred quietly asked, her warm breath rippling the tea. Johnathan shook his head, grimacing from the hot tea, and lowered the volume.
"Never."
"Where do you think he's going to go next?"
The telephone rang. Winnifred submissively took the cup from Johnathan, sensing how her other palm flushes red from pain. She heard Johnathan tiredly answering the phone.
"Who was it?" Winnifred asked in curiosity when he returned.
"From the asyl-university. They want me to permanently stay on their campus" Johnathan took the cup from her and quickly drank the remnants of the tea. Placing the tea down on the table, he disappeared in his bedroom, before reappearing with a dark suitcase. Johnathan lowered it open on the floor and began collecting books and papers around the room. Winnifred wordlessly watched.
"You're leaving?"
Johnathan glanced up from the suitcase.
"Yeah. Tomorrow's the first."
Winnifred stood up from the couch, her fingers still clutching the cup, and sat down on the floor next to him. She watched how his fingers nimbly arrange a couple of books into his small books.
"So...your internship is technically over?"
"Technically, yes." Johnathan stood up and went to his room. Winnifred lowered her eyes and continued arranging scattered books and papers to keep herself distracted. But her vision already blurred, tear droplets staining the book's cover.
"Hey," someone softly said. Winnifred lifted her eyes up. Johnathan gently looked at her, neatly arranged clothes in his hand. Winnifred sniffed, looking away. Her eyes fell on the rain-stained window.
"Oh Freddie," Johnathan lowered the clothes into the suitcase and brought Winnifred close to him. Winnifred turned back around and silently cried into his shirt. Johnathan's fingers slightly pressed down on her upper arm.
"Freddie, I'm sorry. But there's nothing I can do."
Winnifred pressed her hand to her face, trying to stifle her cries. Johnathan sighed. Gradually, the rain dulled her crying until it became barely audible. Finally, Winnifred drew back, quickly placing the remaining books into the suitcase. Johnathan sadly smiled and started helping her. The suitcase holders bitterly clicked shut. Johnathan looked up at Winnifred.
"Will you send my regards to Heath when you see him?"
"Why will I see him, Johnny?" Winnifred softly inquired, smiling though her tears. Johnathan's eyes glimmered behind the glasses.
"Because he'll go to you next."
The train heavily stopped next to the station. Johnathan glanced at it, then, wordlessly took Winnifred by the shoulders, both walking towards the train. They stopped in front of the cabin. Winnifred turned to Johnathan, a grim smile stretching her lips.
"I'm guessing it would be useless to write to you given that you'll be so preoccupied with your even more useless students."
Johnathan shrugged, fixing his grasp on his suitcase. His black jacket idly hung in his arm.
"I observed that letters only add to the...unpleasant feelings accompanying separation." He crookedly smirked. "You see, for the first time, people write to each other like crazy, it's their duty to sit down at the kitchen table, in front of the window with a view on a birch tree, and write..." he shrugged again.
"But as time goes by, this duty thins and now you have individuals who shame themselves for being so careless about not writing to their beloved...yet they still don't write."
"Hopeless pessimist," Winnifred chuckled. "All right." She tightly hugged him, sensing the muscles in her chest tighten, then let go. Johnathan nodded, sadness glimmering behind the sun-illuminated glasses. He turned around and quickly entered the cabin. Winnifred silently watched his figure move through the seats to the far end of the cabin and place his luggage on the top shelf. The tightness started pulsing in her chest. Winnifred blinked back the tears and turned around, hearing the train whistle behind her. She quickly ran down the steps onto the dusty road and tucked her hands into her pockets. The leaves sweeped under her feet, the dust collecting on the dull surface of her shoes. The sky was veiled in metallic-toned clouds, yet the air clustering near Winnifred's cheeks was still warm.
The prairies monotonously whistled when Winnifred passed. Winnifred thoughtfully continued on her way, observing the ground. A sudden, fresh whistle ripped the prairies, making her lift her head up. Billy was sitting on the fence, long cigarette bobbling between his teeth. Winnifred wordlessly turned around and approached him.
"I'm listening," she propped her elbows on the fence, leaning with her entire body. Long, endless prairies stretched in front of her eyes. Interesting, where do they end?
"Saw another buddy off?" Billy inquired, taking the cigarette out of his mouth with his index and middle fingers.
"Yup," Winnifred squinted from the bright sun.
"What about your buddies?"
Winnifred was quiet for a moment, contemplating the prairies.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
Billy inaudibly laughed and jumped off the face, standing three quarters to her.
"Are you coming to the camp or not?" He crookedly grinned, bringing the cigarette up to his mouth.
Winnifred smirked.
"Sure," she smiled. "Why not?" Billy breathed out the smoke with a quiet whistle and threw down the cigarette.
"Great. Tomorrow at six."