Free Evanescence (Black Rose #1) by R. J. Rogue Page B

since I've seen or heard from him. We've never gone a day without talking to each other. I have to find out what's going on with him, but I fear something happened. Something bad.  I can't explain how might I know this, but I FEEL it. Today, I'm going to head over to his house and see for myself. I've tried calling his house phone, but no one answers. His grandmother is hard of hearing, so my best hopes were to hear Mike's voice answering. Even if his grandmother did answer and I find something to be wrong, family tends to hide things for you as well as hide things from. Both I am not fond of at all, yet understand.
    With hope,
    Evan Macrae
                               
                                                     -
     
    Mike has lived with his grandmother for quite some time. When we were in middle school, his father had to relocate for work somewhere in Florida. His mother decided it would be a great place to move, but perhaps they were running away from Utica. People move away, never here. When Mike didn't want to go, his grandmother stepped in and insisted to take care of him, but of course his mother was unsure because of his young age and she would only be able to visit so often. It was his father who was okay with the idea of him staying. His father was always lenient about everything, whereas his mother was quite the opposite. At least he has them both.
    I head down the front steps and to the garage for my bike. It would have been nice to drive, but my mother is gone, doing the usual, making deliveries. I pedal up the road. The smell of rain fills my nostrils. The sun is hiding behind the clouds and tries to peak through the trees above me like a game of peek-a-boo. I ride past many businesses, such as day bars, pizza shops, and bakeries which fill the air with a toasted bread aroma. The wind begins to blow a bit, so that can only mean it won't be too long before it rains. A short-cut will be needed.
    I ride past a small convenience store, a bookstore, and around the back of an old abandoned pawn shop. I pedal down the road which soon turns into forest green ground. I whip past towers of trees as I ride my bike leaving tracks in the mud. As I pedal deeper into the forest, branches snap beneath me and small drops of rain begin to smack the leaves. Just a distance away, I hear the water of the Mohawk River along the rocks and cliffs. I follow the sound and soon skid in the mud to a stop. I drop the kick stand and walk past a few trees and bushes and overlook the horizon from a high vantage point.
    The gray ceiling of clouds tumble atop each other, the dim sun meets my eye level above the endless water, and the trees are planted on my left and right, riding the hills of the valley. I take a step closer to the edge and close my eyes inhaling the smell of rain and allowing the moisture in the air to hit my face. When I open my eyes, in the distance is a large building that sits atop the tallest cliff not far across the water.  My mother always makes deliveries by the cliffs. I wonder if she has ever gone there. I have to admit, the longer I stare, the more familiar it becomes. Even this scenery. I've never taken this trail to Mike's before. I know I haven't, but something says it isn't this first time I've been here and this isn't the first time I've seen that building.
    I pedal up Mike's driveway and stand my bike in front of his house. As I walk up the front steps, his grandmother peeks through the blinds, which makes me chuckle. She's hard at hearing, yet can predict someone's arrival. She opens the door.
    "Hello, Mrs. Druin is--"
    "Have you seen Mike, Evan?" She interrupts.
    “...No, I thought he'd be home," I respond. "That's why I'm here. I was going to ask you the same thing."
    "Oh, dear," she says walking back into the house.
    I step inside and leave my shoes at the door. I meet her in the living where she sits in her rocking chair with a