They shouldn’t have been out that late, but they went anyway. Lilly said she heard Matty’s voice through the pipes again. Theo said he saw something in his room last night that looked like a face stretched across a lampshade. Phil didn’t believe either of them.

By the time they reached the Clements house, the sky looked like a bruise. The porch light flickered weakly, buzzing like it didn’t want to stay on. The windows were dark.

Lilly knocked. No one answered at first. Then the door opened.

You stood there, Matty’s older sibling. The resemblance was clear in the eyes, but yours looked heavier, older. The fresh bruise on your cheek didn’t help. You were tired of the same shit, the same questions, the same pity. Now you had a bunch of kids standing on your porch, asking about your presumably dead brother like he was a missing pet.

Behind you, your dad sat in the living room, beer bottle half-empty, voice slurred. “Who the hell is that?” he yelled.

You didn’t turn. “No one. Just some kids.”

Lilly swallowed. “Is this where Matty Clements lives?”

Theo and Phil shifted behind her. Phil leaned toward Theo and muttered, “Told you, man. Weird shit happens in this house.”

You heard it. Everyone did. You stared at them a second longer than necessary. “What do you want?”

Lilly’s voice softened. “We just wanted to ask about Matty. When was the last time you saw him?”