Chapter Text
"Its probably just a scare call again." Abigal explained as she helped pack Joshpes bag. Its his first trip on scene, outside of training. "This place has a name for being haunted. Owner– His names Nate by the way– probably just fell into a slump and forgot to open shop. It happens."
The hotel looks run down. He cant tell if thats part of the attraction or its general deamuner, that dosnt stop Abigal from pushing him twords the front door. "Dont get your knickers in a twist now." She says, as if a scream dosnt come from the hinges of the door. Long and ever suffering. Abigal laughs at him. "Not funny." It dosnt hold any fire.
Their touches cast upon a front desk just as run down as the outside of the hotel. There's the faint sound of a TV playing in the background. A rerun of a old show Joshpe cant rember the name off.
Abigal has put something, under her nose, she hands the tube of 'chapstick' to Joshpe: "Better to be safe then sorry with theses sorta calls. Normally the lights would be on." Joshpe ignores the drop in his chest as he applies the 'chapstick'. It smells far to strongly of cleaning supplies, and numb his nose. Then again thats probably the whole point.
God that feels wired. Abigal caps the stick before straighting herself with a grin, "Alright, follow me new guy."
Joshpe had been 'new guy' for the entier hafe a week hes been shadowing the older woman.
He could hear the TV better, it sounded like a comedy show. One that relies so heavily on a lugh track that its genuinely rarely ever funny. The blue screen of the TV lit a single arm chair. Arms set on the rest loose and yet stiff.
"Its not funny!" A small child whines on tape, followed by a dead laugh track, "Well son! Thats just life!".
It stinks.
"Mr Freeling?" Abigal calls not stopping to test the lights she rounds closer. Joshpe flips the switch instead, once, twice, another time: the lights dont dont flicker nor hum.
"Oh dear! It seems you've made a mess!" God the shows creepy. A constant laugh track flickering in and out as the old television flickers between static grain and far to edited smiles. Hes not sure its what the man was watching at first.
Abigal coughs, pulls away from the man "Stretcher. Get the strecher Joe."
Her hands had been on his shoulder. Pulling the corspe, trying to shake it awake. Atleast thats what Joshpe thinks, the image of a small child on the TV screen was all he could focus on.
It feels empty. To be alone in the house feels odd, a near crushing pressure of seemingly nothing and yet everything.
"What are you doing." A cracked voice askes. Tiny and small and—
It's a kid. Wearing a blue sweater over oddly mended cloths. The kids eyes are dead seat on him. There not more then a three arm lengths from the front door, and the kid stands with the might of the wall infrot of him. A step to the side, more pressure put on one foot but determined to stop him.
"Im..." Joshpe wasn't good with kids. Fuck hes a dead beat dad to a teen mom, he isnt paternal in anyway. "Im helping." Traning kicks in before he can make a large fool of himself.
The kid sniffles, "No your not."
Gather information. Any information can be used when assessing the state of a patient. "How long have you been here bud?"
The kid bristles, shoulders pulled back face warped in a angery snarl "You do not get to call me that!" they stomp a foot on the ground.
Unstable.
Joshpe raises his hands and hunchs slightly. People in duress feel more comfortable when they can see your actoins and movement clearly. "Okay." His lips are dry. "Whats your name?"
The kid sniffles again "What dose it matter?"
Okay, step back and come from a diffrent approach. Joshpes about to speak once more when Abigal shouts– "Joe! The Steacher! Come on!"
The kid eyes blow wide. Hes not sure hes ever cursed more in his life they when the small child infrot of him started trembling with rage. "Your takeing him!" The kid screams tears welling up in his eyes. "You cant take him!"
Joshpe ignores the words for now, filling them away under the later box as Abigal (hopefuly) starts moving twords him and the child. "Where going to help him okay?"
The kid stills. Hands balling into fist muscles pulling back, a snarling anger etching onto the child's face. "You cant." Its spat with anger. Not guilt, not regret, not even something akin to fear. Just unfilted anger.
"The patriarchy has to stay, its the only way."
"Joshpe?" God Abigal can you be any worse at timing? Thankfully she dosnt say anymore. Standing somewhere that hopefuly dosnt block the kids veiw from their father(?). "Then why dont we help you?" Joshpe reaches his arms out twords the kid, its stupid, but he needs to check if this is allowed. If touch is allowed or if they need to do a rape test when they arive at the hospital.
"You cannot help me." The child dosnt move away from his arms. So thats one win. Joshpe dosnt want to count it as one.
"We can. Its what your dad woukd want." Abigal says softly, putting pressure on the familiar word.
"You will bury him! You cant! You cant take him!" The child dashes forward with a yell into Joshpes chest. The kids nails dogs onto his skin and he kicks and squirms. He dosnt drop the kid. "You cant! He needs to stay here!"
"Get the cops." Joshpe whispers to Abigail, standing with the sobbing kid in his arms.
"You cant! You cant! You cant take him! He promised! He promsied!"
Joshpe bounces with the child in his arms. The kids light, far to light with grown out nails and the smell of filth on them. "Its okay, your okay now." The words are empty buts its all Joshpe can reapte to the screaming child.
"He promised!" They wail.
"Its okay."
"He promsied!"
He can see Abigal comeing with a officer. Its a woman, he dosnt know her name, she just the one that went with then today.
"Its going to be okay."
How he hopes the kid will be.
"Your going to be okay."