Thanks to all who reviewed. Sorry if this chapter is boring, it kind of rambles at parts, but I hope it answers some questions? They aren't really big twists or anything, just answers. So sorry if it's a bit boring.
I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed, and answered a few questions for me:
-Did they stay in character?
- Is it confusing at all?
-What else does it need? Any suggestions?
I'd really like it if you did. This is the longest chapter so far, but nothing really happens. Just some clearing up.
***
Roger snickered as the shouting, swearing police men found their cars in their handicapped condition.
"Wow. Roger laughed. Maybe violence does him some good. Makes him come out of his shell." Maurice, grinning, looked back at his friend. Roger rolled his eyes.
The two boys were crawling, hands and knees, along behind the stone wall at the edge of the property. Ivy vines came over from the other side, making a roof over their side of the wall. They could hear the police men swearing, and Roger's mother wailing something along the lines of "He's the devil spawn! He'll kill you all!" Roger smiled at this.
"A laugh and a smile, in one day! Are you ok? Did you eat babies or something?"
Roger narrowed his eyes. His friend merely expressed his trademark grin. Roger got onto his knees and peered over the stones, Maurice tugged on his shirt.
"Be careful. If they spot us and we go to some detention center, I'm blaming you."
"Don't worry," Roger whispered, "The vines will cover us."
Roger and Maurice gazed over the wall and looked towards the house at all the panicky people. The police men were searching everywhere, under cars, in bushes. His mother was on the ground, in hysterics, a (what seemed like a) novice policeman attempted to comfort her. Roger bit his tongue to stifle a laugh. Maurice glanced over at Roger.
"Shall we go?" Maurice asked.
Roger nodded.
***
After leaving the vicinity of the house, the boys took off running about half a mile down the street. After coming down to a slow trot, Roger looked up.
"Maurice?"
"Yes?"
"Why were you at my house?"
Maurice stopped, keeping his eyes on his feet. Roger blinked.
"Why was I at your house?"
Roger stayed silent; he had no problem with it.
"I was at your house...because…" Maurice seemed to struggle with the answer. Roger stared unmoving at Maurice's face, as the wheat – colored hair danced around it.
"Why did you come?" Roger asked stoically.
Maurice looked at Roger.
"I came simply 'cause I was bored. I'm not sure what it is with people…why they think you're boring. I honestly think you're quiet entertaining."
Roger looked at Maurice, eyes unwavering. Maurice squirmed under his monochromatic friend's gaze. Roger blinked slowly, his dark eyes scanning over the other boy's features. Maurice bit his tongue.
"I was at your house…'cause I heard the noises last night."
Roger's eyes narrowed. He gripped Maurice's shoulder, his hands tightened. Maurice winced at his friend's strong grip, whimpering slightly.
"Why were you in front of my house last night?"
Maurice's hair rose, he could feel Roger getting angry. "I wasn't sneaking or anything, if that's what you're thinking! I just had to run an errand for me mum…and I just happened to be walking by your house..your father..was shouting things. I didn't clearly hear what he said, but I heard the shouting." Roger blinked, still cross. "And so I stood there, for a few minutes. I went into the bushes to see if I could hear anything, but then it started to rain, so I ran home." Roger dropped his head.
Maurice hadn't understood why he was so afraid of Roger. He was never afraid of him; they'd been such great friends…before the island. Before the island, Roger never got angry as quickly. Well, he did still have those anger problems, but nothing like this. Maurice eyed the boy's whose head was dropped, hair gravitating towards the ground. He was different, ready to snap, ready to hurt someone, and he was so indifferent to their pain too. Not that he wasn't before, but back then he didn't really care, now it's more of an enjoyment, hearing their screams and cries. Maurice's eyes made a sound like a shutter.
There was a faint muffled noise. Maurice snapped out of his daze and looked down at his slightly shorter friend.
"What?" he asked, batting his rye bangs.
"I asked 'why did you come back'."
"Why did I come back?" Maurice pondered for a second, oblivious to his own reasoning. "Oh. I came back because I was worried. I know you are usually quiet and everything when your father yells at you…but last night seemed different."
Roger looked down, dropping his vice from Maurice's shoulder. Maurice's hair stood on end again, signaling impending danger; Maurice decided to change the subject.
"Well we best be getting out of these clothes, eh?"
Roger looked at him, confused. "Eh?"
"Eh."
Roger blinked. He looked down at his soaking clothes and at his dripping bangs on his face. He nodded quietly. Maurice grinned. He put his arm around Roger's shoulder.
"Let's go lovely."
Roger glared. Maurice began dragging Roger down the street towards his small manor.
***
Roger stepped into the foyer of Maurice's brick manor. No one appeared to be home, and being a 'wanted criminal' and all, it was probably for the best. Maurice left the room, to make some tea to warm them. Roger looked around at the old entrance.
The stairs leading up to the second floor were red oak and fairly new. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the contours of the room. There were a few doorways going into other rooms, including one Maurice was babbling in. Roger remembered coming here often, but the demeanor seemed new. It's kind of what happens though…after you…lose your mind.
Roger sighed lightly and followed the sound of Maurice's infinite voice. He walked into the rustic, country English home to find Maurice rambling on about something, snakes maybe? Roger couldn't tell. He was focused on the tea, the smell of it. He hadn't remembered getting a decent meal, much less eating at all, after getting off the cruiser. His mouth watered slightly at warm biscuits that lay, sitting forgotten on the counter. Maurice turned with two cups of tea, and followed Roger's gaze.
"You want some?"
Roger nodded sullenly.
"Eat as many as you want, mum made them a while ago. She's not exactly the greatest cook, so I'm not sure anyone will eat them…not even the dog." Maurice laughed inwardly. He hadn't noticed that Roger had already downed one. "Bring that dish over to the table if you'd like."
Roger grabbed the plate by the handles and brought it over to the table, where the tea sit in waiting. He brought the warm tea into his hands, and shuttered. The warm felt comforting, caring. He brought it to his lips and drank slowly, letting it run freely down his throat. He gasped lightly after a large amount of hot water went do his throat. He brought the tea close to his chest and shook quietly. All the while Maurice was out of the room. He came back into the room after a few more sips of tea with black pants and a white collared shirt.
"I know it's fancy, but it's jolly great. I mean, who doesn't love dressing in fancy clothing? Here hold on, lemme get you a towel." Maurice dashed out of the room, and was back a second later with a large towel. "Now take off your clothes and wrap yourself in this for a second, it'll help, then put the clothes on."
Roger did as he was told. In a few moment he was completely naked, a towel around his. He dried himself quickly and slipped on the pants. He dropped the towel as he was putting his shirt on. Maurice examined Roger's twelve year old torso from where he was sitting. There were a series of small gashed along his back, as well as a large laceration going across the middle of his spine. Maurice winced, imaging the pain for himself. Roger slid the shirt on over his back, and turned around to button his shirt. On his shoulder was a small puncture wound and several more scars. Maurice watched.
"Boar?"
Roger looked up. "What?"
"Those marks, are they from that boar?"
"Close. My dad."
Maurice's face reddened a little, which was hidden by the low morning light.
"And the puncture? On your shoulder? And the gash on your back."
"Someone. Other than dad."
"Someone?"
Roger nodded.
"Ralph."
Maurice raised his eyebrows.
"Ralph?"
"Ralph. Well the puncture at least. When we were…" Roger decided against mentioning that. "But he…jumped out at me, and was stabbing, he got my shoulder, but then got off."
Maurice looked down, unsure of how to react.
"The large cut, from my dad. He brought a pocket knife into it."
Maurice stiffened. He vividly remembered the destruction a measly pocket knife could do.
"I think that's what did it… what made me unconscious…what made all the blood." He remembered waking up in a pool of blood. He was alright with blood spill, but he preferred it not to be his own.
Maurice, once again decided to change the subject.
"So…where'd you go after the violence and all."
"The park."
"Autumn Park?"
Roger nodded, picking apart a biscuit and forcing it into his mouth.
"You stayed there in the rain?"
Roger nodded, he'd always been quiet, with a bit of a sinister feeling to him. Maurice watched Roger, with a twinge of worry for the stoic boy. He watched as Roger walked over to the window. Roger always had this eerie feeling about him…but it was different…it increased since the island…he's more..unstable? Maurice decided that was the right word. He watched Roger tearing apart the bread, before his gaze fell slowly to the table, in a daze. His focus came back as he heard Roger choking on the biscuit. His head snapped up, Roger was coughing insanely. Maurice got up and ran over to Roger.
"Hey, hey are you alright?!" Maurice looked at the boy who was coughing downwards, black bangs covering his eyes. Roger diverted his eyes up and outside, his eyes hard, darkened by the rings under them. Maurice followed his gaze. His eyes widened as he laid eyes on numerous police cars outside.