Matt sits in the Church pews, eyes closed, head bowed. He listens to the prayers.
The service ends. The night is cold. A clock chimes the hour in the distances. 9 o’clock.
Matt walks back to the dorms alone, through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, his cane sweeping left to right.
The dorms are never really quiet, but tonight it’s close enough. Matt pulls his hearing into himself, trying to focus on his heartbeat. His cane lifts up a bit from the familiar cement path. He takes a deep breath, centring himself. And...
He stumbles on a clump of grass. He stops. His senses seem to explode all over the place, everywhere but here. Matt tries to think.
Wasn’t he on a footpath earlier?
He kicks the clump of grass. It takes him two tries, the first coinciding with another short stumble. It was further away than he thought.
The clump of grass squishes under Matt’s foot, but it’s solid. Not grass.
Matt kicks the thing a bit harder. It slides up the path a bit.
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, trying to get a better picture.
If Matt had to describe what his senses are telling him, he would say it’s a fuzzy shape just off the side of the path, with a section of it across the path itself. Maybe... a fallen tree, with a branch across the path? A rotten branch?
Matt can’t hear any leaves.
The section on the path is clearer than the rest, something about the cement making it reflect sound better than grass. Stick explained it once.
Matt kneels, curious.
He drags his fingers along whatever it is. It’s cold, but no colder than the night itself. Matt shivers. He should have worn a sweater.
Reaching the end of the thing, Matt finds, he finds... a palm. Five fingers.
He crosses himself. It’s a person. A dead person.
His hands shake as he fumbles for his phone.
“Foggy. Call Foggy,” He manages, gasping. Foggy picks up on the second ring.
“Matt! Buddy! Where are you? It’s kinda late.”
Matt chokes a sob.
“Matt? Matt, you alright?”
Matt can hear Foggy fumbling around. “No,” Matt mumbles. “Foggy, I...”
“Where are you?”
“I. I was coming back from Church, so... Footpath, south side?”
“What’s happened? Are you okay?”
Matt shakes his head. “No, Foggy. Foggy-”
“Y-yeah? Yeah, what’s going on?”
Matt gasps, almost laughing in shock. This can’t be real. “I think... I think I found a dead person.”
“What?”
Foggy practically yelled, making Matt wince. “I tripped. And I didn’t know what I tripped on. But... I’m pretty sure it’s an arm.”
“O-oh...”
There is a long pause on Foggy’s end. Matt breathes heavily.
Foggy hangs up.
“Foggy?” Matt sobs.
“I’m here,” Foggy says, from behind Matt.
Matt startles and spins around. “Tell me it’s not a dead person.”
Foggy’s heart speeds up. “That is a... That’s a dead person. I’m calling 911.”
“How...” Matt begins, trying to take deep breaths. “How did they die?”
“Ah,” Says Foggy. “I’m not an expert, and I’m glad I’m not a butcher, but it looks like someone’s... Cut them. Him. From his stomach to... To his throat.”
Foggy has to swallow back bile. “I think he’s in the year above us, oh god.”
Matt grabs Foggy’s hand, bringing his phone up to his mouth. “Call 911,” He says into it. It starts to ring.
Matt pushes his phone at Foggy. Foggy unclenches his hand and takes it.
Matt can’t breathe. He wants to say he’s in shock.
It’s not the first time Matt’s encountered death. This time just feels different. He hadn’t known. If Matt had accepted that it was a clump of grass, he could have gone back to the dorm, not knowing.
Matt could have tripped on a body without knowing.
Foggy’s speaking to someone on the phone. The dispatcher probably. Matt slumps against him.
“Jesus Christ,” He says. He makes the Sign of the Cross. “Jesus Christ.”