A spark from me to you

Dorren

I couldn't hold it. They were breathing down my neck. I didn't know where to start.

"Where..." I sighed, looking at both of them with a mix of frustration and resignation. It felt as though the walls were closing in on me, leaving no room for escape.

"Where do you want me to start...?" The officer all though there was no emotion, I could tell that he was probably celebrating in his mind, that I had finally spoken. I swear I saw a slight smirk form on his face. The detective on the other hand, was interested, as he leaned in slightly, eyes focused on mine. I began to tell the story of Willard Windler.

FLASHBACK/HIM TELLING THE STORY:

Willard and I were the best of friends. I would frequently go over to his house, and play with his German Shepard, Axel. Willard had an older brother Reynold. They didn't have the best relationship with each other, as Willard described. They frequently fought. But if I'm being honest, Willard fought with a lot of people. But anyways, one time when I came over, I witnessed it firsthand, I was around 11 at the time. I rang the doorbell, only to hear shouting inside. The front door was unlocked, so I let myself in. And there I saw it, a broken vase, with Willard right beside it, while Reynold stood over him, furious. Reynold was particularly nice to me. He would welcome me in, whenever I came, and basically treated me like family. I had seen Reynold get angry, but not every so often, probably behind closed doors.

As I walked in, I could hear Reynold yelling things at Willard. Not friendly things either.

"You are so stupid! If you can't handle walking properly, without running into things, how can you handle a multi-million-dollar company?!" I hid behind one of the pillars inside the house, as I overheard their conversation. I peeked a bit. I could see Willard on the ground, tears in his eyes, as his brother yelled at him.

Reynold then went upstairs as Willard was just there on the ground, motionless. I didn't want him to think that I was a rat, dwelling into things that I had no business in. So, I left, as quietly as possible. I closed the door behind me. I tried to close it as quietly as I could, pushing it after, to see whether I had closed it properly, then running off to my house.

I then heard the news, of his mother's suicide, a month later. I felt bad, Willard wasn't really the same afterwards. He was always a happy sort of person, who would light up a room, whenever he entered, and that's what I liked about him. His joy. But it didn't last long at all. Today, at the New Year's Eve festival, I was waiting for him. There were a lot of people around and it was quite hard to find him, with the rather large crowd. But, as I walking, there was a building, with a rooftop balcony. I could see two people, but to be honest, I'm not really sure if there even was two people, maybe it was just one. I couldn't really tell who they were, but I could tell who one of them was. Willard. I recognised him from his red scarf that he was wearing while up there, kind of hard to miss, honestly. But as the countdown went down, I could feel something bad about to happen. 3...2...1... As soon as the fireworks went off to mark the New Year, he fell. Down. All the way down. There was a loud thud. I ran towards him, my heart seeming as though it were about to beat out of my chest. I held him, telling him to hold on. I looked back up at the rooftop, but there was nobody there.

"Willard! Stay with me! Your fine! Wake up! Please.... People started to gather around us, I held him tightly, his body warmth starting to disappear. As he drew his final breath, he said something. I understood some of what he said, but not all of it.

"I didn't mean it." He was gone. My best friend was gone. The police came. And everything seemed to pass quickly. I looked down at the blood on my hands, as I trembled.

Every memory I had with Reynold and Willard started to fade slowly. I knew Willard loved Reynold deeply, as he would always tell me what a great brother he was.

"He's just a bit misunderstood." Same for Reynold. I knew he loved him too. I was great friends with Willard, since we were five. Reynold would take us to the park and run after us as we hid behind the trees. It was fun. But now, with Willard gone, nothing seemed fun anymore. I then called Reynold telling him about what had happened. He sounded...Shocked, obviously. He didn't say much. He just paused for a second. Then said that he was glad I told him, then hung up.

The detective sighed, leaning back, as though he were taking in all I had just said.

"Right." I glanced at the officer, he seemed worried, but in a subtle way, he was adjusting his collar more frequently but kept a straight face. It was as though when I mentioned Reynold he seemed to be acting that way. I pushed that feeling aside though. I got back to the story.

Willard continues to tell the story:

I remember this one time, I met this guy, it was with Willard. We were walking right outside the house. This was after Willard was yelled at from a previous fight. As we walked out, there was this guy, who stood there, leaning against the pillar outside the house. I thought about taking Willard for a walk, since he was crying quite a bit. I was at their house more than I was at mine. My parents were both dead, and my uncle wasn't the friendliest person on the planet. Let's put this simply: My uncle hated me. The guy who was standing outside was tall, maybe 6'5 or 6'4 I don't honestly remember. He had green eyes, Black silky hair that was swept into a tousled, yet effortlessly refined wave, and fair skin that glowed in the sunlight. He was wearing a black suit, with a white, freshly ironed shirt underneath. As we got closer, I noticed a small scar on his right eye as well.

Willard, being the friendly boy he was, walked up to him, his tears slowly fading away.

"Hi! Are you here to see my brother?" He said, while looking up at him, with his voice in a sweet tone that he always used with everyone.

"As a matter of fact, I am." He then bent down closer to us, trying to level his height with ours.

"Why the long face?" He asked, his tone soft, yet deep at the same time.

"My brother got a bit angry, and started screaming at me..." I stood there, a bit worried, about what this man would and might do.

"Well, maybe after, you would like to come over to my place for dinner, with your friend, and talk about whatever it is you like with me?" Now I was really uncomfortable. We were both naive young children, but Willard was more than me.

"Yeah! I would love to come over, right Dorren?" He elbowed my arm slightly, while looking at me with those puppy dog eyes he would always give when wanting to do something I didn't. I pulled him aside gently, whispering in his ear.

"Haven't you ever heard of stranger danger? What if he kidnaps us?!" I tried to keep my voice low, so that the man wouldn't hear our conversation.

"It's fine! He knows my brother! We'll be fine Dorren! Don't worry so much, it doesn't suit you." He smiled at me while he still plead with those eyes of his.

I sighed. "Fine, but if anything happens, it's one hundred percent your fault, okay?"

"Yep, yep!" We then walked back up to the guy telling him that we would come over. He smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. He seemed...friendly...

"What are your names?" He asked, with a rather curious tone.

"Mine's Willard! His is Dorren!" I chuckled nervously.

"Yeah..." I said. It was evident that I was nervous, as I was avoiding eye contact quite a bit.

"Well, nice to meet both of you. Mine is Xavier Roshen."

The officer then stood up abruptly. "I'm sorry detective, may we pause this interview, I have something I need to get to."

"Oh, uhm." He looked at me. "we'll continue this interview later, okay Dorren?" The detective said. The officer then opened the door, slamming it behind him, as the detective followed shortly after.

Why did the officer leave? And why did he seem so nervous?