The stairs creaked with every step I took, echoing down into the basement below. I hated to admit it, but Peter was right. The steps were rotten through and threatened to cave with my every step. If I fell, it would be a nasty tumble.

It was scary. It was even scarier to think that there might be a dead body down here. The loud noises the wood made with every step freaked me out.

I really was trying, but there was no way to be careful or quiet on these things...

As much as I had agreed to, you know, find out who murdered him, it hadn't really crossed my mind that I would actually be confronted with a dead body.

But, even if I vomited or something it would be worth it. I had to solve this, and if this was what it took, I would do it.

The stairs felt endless. Every step threatened to cave under my weight and it was terrifying. Was this really where he died?

The room was intrusively dark, all light swallowed up like in a typical horror movie. The only light was coming from the door at the top of the stairs - and even that only let in a very limited amount of light. It was hard to see where I was going by the time I reached the bottom.

Reaching tile had never felt so relieving before. Normally you cursed it out for being cold as heck on bare feet as you got out of a warm shower...

"You okay there?" Peter asked, floating over to me hesitantly.

"Yeah, yeah, my heart rate hasn't been this high since… well, last week." I shuddered as I remembered the one singular push up I had done.

I dug around in my pockets for my phone, grabbing it out in a rush. The flashlight was on a few seconds later.

I had braced myself for a horror movie set, but in reality, it was just a dusty, mouldy place with the remains of tables and other things that a school wouldn't be able to sell. It felt weird and out of place in this setting, like a cheeseburger on a toilet seat, but was familiar enough that I couldn't help but relax a little.

"Any idea where I should start?" I asked.

"No, not really. The most I can tell you is that I definitely know my body is around here somewhere," he whispered.

I frowned, turning the light towards him. The light went straight through him, hitting the opposite wall. It was like he was a projector with something in front of it, which looked really weird. "How do you know?"

"It's… hard to describe? I just know," he said with a sigh. His form was flickering every few seconds and he refused to look me in the eyes.

I didn't know what to say to comfort him. How could you even comfort him? I turned the other way. "Alright, if you say so. Let's start searching."

I crept around the basement, phone held so tight I was afraid it would crack. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, I mostly found some weird looking spiders, dead and alive. And a rat or two. You can never avoid them…

"Anything?" I asked, turning from where I was bent over to look for Peter. I found a gleam that faintly looked like his outline, and he was totally still. Not moving at all.

I had never seen him that still before, he was always fiddling or swinging his legs or arms or anything. A shiver raced down my spine.

"Peter?" I asked quietly, cautiously approaching him. He didn't respond.

I followed his gaze to the floor. I noticed that the wood seemed a slightly lighter shade than the rest of the wood – like it was fresher, not from the same batch. I gulped.

"Is this where it is?" I asked softly. Finally, he moved, nodding his head.

I crouched down, feeling around the wood. It was about the size of a human if they were curled in a ball. I felt sick.

Swallowing down my hesitation, I grabbed the side of one of the new bits of wood and pulled as hard as I could, trying to get it to snap. It creaked, and creaked, and creaked, and finally broke with enough momentum to send me on to my butt.

I scrambled to grab my phone and look into the hole.

I was overwhelmed with emotions, all fighting for dominance. One second I was frozen, fists curled by my side so tight it was painful. The next I was shaking, eyes watery and blurred. I took a deep breath, containing myself. It didn't work, rage still clawed at my throat with like an animal, words like acid ready to spit at the nearest person.

"They stuffed you in there…" I hissed, letting my anger rise above all my other emotions. "They couldn't even respect you enough to lay you down! They stuffed you in there! How dare they!"

I turned to look at Peter, fire in my eyes, but it simmered down as I saw his face. He was hunched over, rubbing his arms slowly–as if he were cold. His eyes were blank. His form kept on flickering.

My anger drained out of me. This wasn't about me."Peter, please say something…" I whispered, standing back up.

He only hunched in on himself even more. I could only see his face through his hair.

"You didn't deserve this. Whatever you're thinking, this is not what you deserved. You deserve better than to be shoved in a hole, left to rot and be eaten by the rats in here. You deserved to live a long life and I seethe at the thought that whoever did this to you got to live theirs."

He nodded hesitantly. I wanted to yell at him, shake sense into him, understand what was going through that mind of his. But I couldn't. The best I could do was reassure him, comfort him, and make sure whichever fucker did this would be put away for life at the least.

Feeling more determined than ever, I grabbed the next floorboard and ripped it away, fully revealing Peter's skeleton to the light. I realised that Peter was wearing the same clothes as his remains.

I couldn't help but be immensely grateful that he was still wearing the remains of those clothes. It meant I didn't have to see any decaying remains—if there were any bits of rotting flesh remaining.

With the body exposed, I could finally collect evidence. I took a few pictures, but other than that I refused to touch him. It didn't feel right, especially with Peter hovering just over my shoulder. There wasn't anything else surrounding him.

After that, I grabbed one desk and covered the hole up. I didn't want whoever came down here next to discover the horrifying site.

Not unless they were investigating Peter's death like I was.

After that, I had trouble finding a new angle on this. None of the students were really suspects in my mind–even the former bullies had been very remorseful about his "disappearance." And it wasn't likely that any people outside of the school would have killed him.

I would have thought it was an accident or someone had accidentally killed him, but it stuck Peter in the mortal realm. And if horror movies had taught me anything, it was that he probably had unfinished business. Also, he had been hastily stuffed into the floor and covered up, any arguments that it was "an accident" kind of fell away at that point.

So, who does that leave?

The janitors, the principal (but that wouldn't make sense, Peter had been great for the school) or the teachers…

The… teachers? Hang on.

I looked up from my notebook. Peter was sitting on top of the desk, head in his hands. He had been silent since we had found his body.

We were hanging out at the library as per usual. Wait a minute. We were in the library, it would be a simple matter of grabbing the latest yearbook and the one from when Peter died to compare the teachers.

There were only three teachers who had been around when Peter was killed. Mr Grant, Mrs Ives and Mr Campbell.

Mr Campbell taught English, and I had met him before. He did not give me a gut feeling of 'this guy is dangerous to me and everyone around him' though. I would still investigate him but I doubted it could be him. Even if he was weird. Who had a collection of cheese? This guy. That's what kind of guy he was.

Mrs Ives was a music teacher. She taught on the other side of the school from where Peter was killed, and the basement wasn't exactly something you had to pass to get home. And from what I could gather, it most likely happened at the start or end of the day when there would be no… witnesses. She was quiet for a music teacher though...

Mr Grant wasn't all that bad either. He taught science, and though he had had some historic outbursts, he was an alright guy all around. I couldn't pinpoint any reason for him to kill Peter either.

Man, this lead wasn't going anywhere neither. But I wouldn't give up. I decided to go through all of their office's. Maybe I'll find the surveillance footage in one of their desks.

That would probably help the cops to convict someone. Maybe. If I wanted the police to take this seriously, I would need a large amount of credible evidence. And an explanation for why I looked into Peter's case again.

With that idea firmly planted in my head, I went over to Mrs Veras' desk and stole her keys for the second time. Luckily all the teachers' offices had the same lock. Which was dumb. But who was I to judge?

That was enough to get Peter talking again. "What are you doing with those?"

"I'm investigating your murder, of course," I replied, walking out of the library. I left my stuff for the moment, there was no point in taking it with me if I would be coming back soon, anyway.

Peter floated in front of me, so he was looking at me as I determinedly walked to my first suspect. "I know that! But where are you going to break into this time?"

"Mrs Ives office," I told him.

"Mrs Ives? That old lady? She would never hurt a fly! Let alone me. And if she did kill me I doubt she would have…" he drifted off, his face falling.

"Don't think about that! Look, Mrs Ives is one of the few teachers left who was around when you died. None of the other students did it, and no one outside of the school could have done it. Doesn't it make sense?" I explained.

He huffed, "Yeah, I guess. Are there any other teachers who are still around?"

I nodded, "Yep. Mr Campbell and Mr Grant."

As I said 'Mr Grant' a chill seemed to go up Peter's spine, and we both paused. His form wavering for a couple of seconds before coming back like nothing had happened. He blinked a few times, confusion written all over his face.

"You saw that, right?" he asked, eyes wide.

"You don't think…?" I said slowly, crossing my arms.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "No, it wasn't anything. You can look into all of them. I don't care."

I frowned, "I was going to look into all of them, anyway. The order doesn't matter. Let's go."

Turning around, I walked back the way I came from. Peter fell behind me, seemingly trying to make sense of our new suspect being the killer. I heard him muttering a few 'no way's…' to himself. There wasn't much I could say.

I mean, if I had discovered a former teacher of mine might be the one who killed me, I would be in shock too. I would be angry and haunt them until they ran away or something, too, but I knew Peter would never do that.

He had too kind of a soul. Helping random students at a school he was stuck in instead of wallowing in despair. His whole life was gone! He had no future to look forward to! The best he could hope for was someone to solve his murder–but it was obvious he had given up by the time I came along.

He had been prepared to spend the rest of eternity haunting an admittedly small place. He hadn't wanted me to go after his murderer at first. He didn't want to bother someone, I guess?

I couldn't help but wonder if that had to do with some previous students. Had he asked someone else to figure out what had happened and been rejected? Had they ignored him when he persisted? Had they said they wouldn't talk to Peter unless he helped them with their work?

I tightened my hand around the keys. If someone had done that to Peter, then I would make it up to him.

I didn't care if my grades fell while helping Peter, didn't care if it caused me to get into trouble, I would rather have him be happy in the afterlife without me than to be stuck here until the end of time.

It was just a shame that it took nearly a decade for someone to make this choice. It infuriated me that people could be selfish enough to ignore something that could be solved. A part of me knew for certain that if too much time passed, Peter would have no chance of moving on.

Zilch, none, nada. There would be no way to. Any and all evidence would disappear over time until there was nothing left to discover. I was just glad that it wasn't too late for him.

"Wade? Wade! You passed his office," Peter said, circling around in front of me.

I looked back, and then to him, "Um, right. I knew that."

He smiled. It was something small, still not as bright as before, but it was enough for my spirits to lift. "Sure you did. Go on, investigate him and potentially get in huge trouble. Just remember–you can't blame ghosts because you'll be seen as insane~"

I swatted at him, "Shut up, you. Everyone already knows I'm insane!"

"Not surprised," he laughed, drifting backwards until he went straight through the wall.

"You trying to suggest something Petey-pie?" I called out as I looked through the keys until I found the right one.

When I stepped in, I flicked the light on and found a conventional, boring office space. After the… excitement in the basement it was almost a letdown. But that didn't matter. What mattered was Peter.

"Where are you going to start, Mr Detective?" Peter asked, trying to hide his flushed face as he floating over to one shelf. He sat on it–even though we both knew he could go right through it.

I hid my smirk with a smile, instead looking around the room. So many files, so many things to look through. If I was a murderer trying to hide evidence where would I put it?

My eyes strayed to the desk drawers. The rest of the room looked fairly organised, but if I knew anything, random stuff always seemed to get stuck in those things.

Trusting my gut feeling, I went to open the bottom drawer and fished around in there. I pulled everything out, looked at it, and then put everything back in. Nothing. I repeated that with the next drawer. Same result. Next one, same result.

I knew I should be more patient about these things–I was basically looking for a needle in a haystack, but I slammed a fist into the side of the drawers in frustration. Peter jumped.

"You okay?" he asked, frowning down at me.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just a kid looking for a DVD when I don't know if it's still around. Maybe he burned it!" I told him, flinging my arms out.

"If he did, then that's okay. You know you can call the police and explain what you've discovered already, right?" he whispered, floating down to sit in front of me.

I brought my knees up to my chest, folding my arms on top of them and putting my head on them.

"How do I explain how I found your body? How do I explain what I know? How do I explain my motivations? The police probably won't even care. You died so many years ago," I mumbled, eyes staring at my feet rather than his face. I didn't want to see his disappointment in me.

He put a hand on my knee, going corporeal for a few seconds. "I know it's frustrating, but you know you don't have to solve my case. I'm fine with you and I being friends and hanging out until you leave school."

"You shouldn't be! You shouldn't be okay with that. Be selfish for once!" I exclaimed, my hands tightening into a fist. "Who knows if there'll ever be another me wanting to help you? And who knows if they'll even be able to solve it!"

Peter stared me in the eyes for a long moment, searching me. I stood there, breathing heavily and on the verge of tears. I would stand by my words, Peter deserved none of what had happened to him.

Peter broke eye contact first. "You're stressed out about this. C'mon, I'll help you look as much as I can," he whispered, voice croaking. He got up and floated up to look at the higher shelves before I could protest.

I sighed and went to the next drawer.

It was another five minutes of searching, tense silence between us, before Peter exclaimed, "I think I've found something!"

When I looked over, Peter had mustered some of his energy to pick up a DVD and float it down to where I could grab it.

I flicked it over, there were no markings on it. "You sure?"

"It's the only thing I've been able to find. And think about it–if Mr Grant was trying to cover up what he did he wouldn't put any suspicious markings on it." Peter explained, folding his arms.

I grinned, "Alright, let's watch this thing."

I had to book a computer at the library, so it took until the next night to look it through. The whole day I had been anxiously waiting to do it, restlessness growing with every minute that passed.

Even Bob had commented on it, and he was normally oblivious. I didn't know how to explain it to him without seeming slightly insane, so I didn't.

When the bell for the end of the day finally rang I raced to the library—leading to a few odd stares—and grabbed the nearest computer after signing in.

I grabbed the DVD out of my bag (I had even wrapped it in bubble wrap for good measure) and waited for the computer to upload.

This was it, the moment of truth. Would we finally have the evidence I needed?

Peter came floating through the floor, and for once I didn't jump.

"Hey Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, how you doin'?" I greeted.

He shrugged, looking over my shoulder. "I'm much more interested in this, how long do these things take to boot up, anyway?"

"Way too long, way too long. The school is poor and can't afford new ones. It sucks," I whined.

Peter smirked, "Back in my day~!"

"Don't you start on me! After all the nice things I've done for you, this is the way you thank me? Betrayal! Betrayal I say!"

"Yeah, yeah, whine and complain. The computer's done," he said, pointing at the screen.

I leaned forward in my chair, putting the disc in and clicking around until finally I had the DVD's files up. It had the surveillance of every school hall sorted in different folders. When I clicked into the basement one I found myself staring at a boring long, twenty-four-hour video.

I groaned.

"Just skip to later that day. I died in the afternoon. I'm pretty sure," Peter said.

I nodded, "That helps a lot. I don't think three hours is enough to go through all of this."

Even by speeding up the video and clicking through it, it still took forever to find Peter walking through the corridor.

"Found you!" I said, grabbing my notebook and pen from my bag as quickly as I could. I had it out just in time to pause the video as he entered the basement.

Peter went quiet, but for now, I decided not to bother him.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Mr Grant came into frame. He looked younger, but he still had that scowl that I had never seen him without.

"Wow, he really hasn't changed at all," I commented as I marked down the time he went in.

Peter huffed a small laugh, "You've got that right. I honestly think he's a vampire or something."

"Why would he even kill you?" I asked murmured, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to come up with some reason why he would do it.

"No idea," He paused then looked down at the ground. I could tell something was eating at him but before I could press about it, he continued. "I was openly bisexual. Maybe that?" He admitted with a sad laugh.

"Seriously?" He nodded, watching me almost cautiously, "Screw him. I knew I hated him for a reason!" I exclaimed.

Before we could keep on talking Grant was walking out of the basement. I paused and peered at him. I could see a darker patch—presumably of blood—on his pants. Otherwise, no one would have suspected he had just killed a teenager.

A shiver went up my spine.

"And then I never came back up again…" Peter whispered, his voice low. When I looked over at him his body looked fainter. He wasn't flickering or anything though.

I swallowed any reaction. I didn't want to make an already bad situation worse. I had to be strong for the both of us.

I smiled as hard as I could. "I think we have enough evidence now. You ready?" I asked, turning to look at him.

He smiled, some light re-entering his eyes. It made me feel worse. "Can't wait to hear how it goes. Good luck."

I carefully repackaged the DVD, giving it an extra layer of protection with some bubble wrap hanging around. This was the biggest bit of evidence I had and if it broke…

Didn't want to even think of that.

I stood up and put my bag on.

...

I couldn't move towards the door.

"Wade? Are you okay?" Peter asked, floating back in front of me.

I kept my smile firmly in place. "I'm fine. Just you wait, he'll be arrested before you know it."

He sighed, a frown growing on his face. "Be careful." He lifted his arm, and it went corporal. He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.

I nodded, "I will, don't worry." I moved past him and his arm dropped back to his side. I turned back and gave him a quick wave. "See you later."

"Bye," he replied, a soft smile on his face.

I hurried through the school hallways. Someone had dimmed the lights and outside I knew it was already dark. Shadows crept along the hallways, dancing in the corner of my eyes like a bad horror movie.

I gripped the straps of my bag tightly, trying to ground myself and keep my breathing low. Every step I took echoed endlessly along the corridor.

I was almost at the door when I stopped. Something was wrong. Against my better instincts, I stopped and looked over.

Mr Grant.

A chill went down my spine, freezing me in place with my hand on the door.

He was a large man, tall and imposing when he wanted to be. Each of his hands were almost as big as my head. If he gripped my head, he could probably squish it like a grape. His body was twice as big as mine though he was a very… round man.

I swallowed, unconsciously curling my hands into a fist by my side.

"Hello there, Wade Wilson, was it?" He asked politely, his voice a low rumble. He grinned, all his teeth showing in one smile. It wasn't exactly… welcoming. He put a hand out for me to shake.

I couldn't help but see the blood on his pants, the satisfied smirk on his face as he had walked away from the scene of the crime all those years ago.

I raised my hand up to take his, forcing my face into something resembling normal. "Uh, yeah. I was just on my way out and-"

He gripped my hand so tight when he shook it that I winced. "I'm sure you were." He studied me for a long few uncomfortable seconds. "I've heard many things about you. Reckless, immature, struggling, among others."

I grit my teeth, "High praise."

He tilted his head to the side, like a dog. The analogy didn't quite work unless you thought of him as a shaved bulldog that swallowed a balloon. "You always seem to be in the know around here."

"I wouldn't say I'm in the know, I mean, I do hear gossip from time to time-" I said, spitting out the words as fast as possible. If he would just let me go-

"Someone broke into my office," Mr Grant whispered. But it could have well of been a bomb because I froze all over again.

"That's not good sir, now if you'll just let me-" I tried, pressing the door hard enough to get it to budge.

He tugged me closer, forcing me to let the door slip shut again. "Can you tell me who did it?" He asked, only his eyes portraying his anger. I desperately hoped it was just because of someone breaking in.

He couldn't know, he didn't know, there was no way he knew it was me...

"N-no, I don't know anything. Can I please go home now?" I said again, grabbing my arm and taking a small step back.

His eyes narrowed in on me, studying me. My skin crawled. Then he smiled, like a predator playing with his prey. I smiled back.

"I hope you have a very good night's sleep," he said, voice light and airy as if our whole conversation hadn't happened.

As soon as he let go of my arm, I was out of there. I had never biked somewhere so fast in my life.

When I had said goodbye to Peter that night, I had maybe failed to mention that I couldn't actually go to the police tonight. They were way too far away for me to feasibly think about doing it. Unless I wanted to get there by midnight.

So, I waited until the next day. It was a Wednesday, but I couldn't care, I would skip school for this. Which meant a lesser chance of Mr Grant going after me if he found out what I was doing. They could fire him for skipping—at least I was pretty sure.

I wasn't taking the chance in any case. Not after last night.

Super early, at six in the morning, I grabbed all my evidence and pedalled toward the closest police station. It was about thirty miles away and I knew I was in for a long ride, and I had to shortcut through a forest to cut time.

I took until midday to reach the closest police station.

I would have been there sooner if it hadn't been for the really hilly area where I had to get off my bike and walk up.

I mostly passed suburbs, at one point riding a never-ending road before taking a turn into the forested area using the shortcut taking me to the nearest town.

I stopped half-way through the track, putting my bike on the edge of the path and leaning against a tree. I fished out my water bottle but decided to forgo any snacks.

My eyes flicked to my bag. I still couldn't believe Mr Grant had been the one to murder Peter. Well… kind of.

I didn't even want to go digging further into why he would have pushed Peter. If this guy thought it was okay to murder kids, he must be really messed up. What if he had done the same things to other kids just like him?

But really, I doubted Mr Grant was interesting beyond the fact that he was tall, mean and menacing. In fact, I would bet that he's boring as hell. The only thing that could be considered "fascinating" is that he killed a teenager.

Which, to me, wasn't interesting. It was disturbing.

I pinched the brow of my nose, trying to quell the twisting of my stomach. Just the thought that someone had gone out of their way to murder him then cover it up made me feel sick. Disgusted, really.

And if what Peter had said was right? That he might have killed Peter because he was bi?

Well, if that really was true, if he really hated gay people that bad... Mr Grant would kill me too.

I shook away the thought.

I was a smart kid, if he really tried to go after me I could just avoid him. Right?

I… I could just...

I could run away!

That…

That wouldn't work.

It never works. I couldn't get away, not while I still lived with them. They wouldn't care if I died. Oh god, what if Mr Grant had realised I knew? What if he was waiting on the other side of this forest waiting for me?

The forest grew too quiet for me, every creak, every bird, everything was a warning. I wrapped my arms around myself and pulled my hood up.

What if he was after me? Could I get away? Where would that leave Peter? Would he discard my body like Peter's? Would I get a funeral? Would anyone even try to search for me? Would they assume I drowned in a lake in the forest?

If he knew I knew what he had done, which maybe he did, no one would ever know what happened to Peter. No one would know what happened to me. I hadn't told Bob or Mrs Vera or anyone what I was doing.

I wasn't popular, everyone only knew me as that burn victim.

I didn't know how long I sat there, trying not to be sick, trying to ground myself by digging my fingernails into my bald scalp, leaving crescent marks. It took even longer to stagger to my feet.

This… this is why he needs to be put away.

Who knows if he'll ever do it again. If he already has done it again.

He would kill me if I failed.

I had to make sure he didn't have the chance to try again.

Forcing my thoughts into submission and controlling my breathing until it was slow and steady took too long. It left me feeling light-headed.

I grabbed my backpack and hopped back onto my bike.

I am doing this for Peter. For anyone like me. So that no one has to suffer this fate again.

If my heart was pounding out of my chest, then that wasn't anyone's business but my own.

I leaned my bike against the wall of the police station.

I was really doing this. I was actually here, at the police station, about to show them everything. Get Mr Grant jailed. Let Peter have his happy ending.

I was really doing this. I had done this.

...It felt surreal in all the wrong ways.

I walked forward with stronger strides than I felt. Really, my legs felt like jelly. Like at any moment I would trip and fall flat on my face.

Even my breaths sounded too loud.

I glanced back toward the road. There wasn't anyone there. It was just me and my bike. No one else.

I hurried inside anyway.

It was silent in here, the only noise being the hum of the heater. There were no police officers waiting around. Actually, there wasn't anyone but me and the secretary.

Why had I expected that? It was just a police station.

I walked over to the desk and leant on it like it could support me if I fell. The man at the front desk looked up and smiled.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he asked politely.

I took a deep breath. Moment of truth. I could do this. This was for Peter, for me, for Aunt May (if she was still alive… I hadn't looked into her. Maybe I should have done that) and the school.

"I know what happened to Peter Parker."