Tethered

Chapter Seventeen

1

The events of the past one month had both shaken Sarah's understanding of the world, and left her with a dismayed and perplexed outlook. There was so much to process, and she was already exhausted. Meeting up with Philip, Dale and Ariana had changed something in her. She felt a lot better that she wasn't alone. That they were all like her, trying to solve the mystery that has gloomed their lives.

Trying to understand what was going on, and thanks to dead Ken Leadwood, he'd opened their eyes, and sharpened their minds. But the questions still remained: how did he get the names? What information did he found? And why did he die, the way he died, along with the rest?

Philip didn't say anything else after his last line: "That means we didn't do it but someone else did. Someone professional, with steady hands."

What did he mean by that? Someone? Who could that be? And why? The meeting ended there. Sarah had twenty missed calls from Cynthia and nearly forty missed calls from her father, along with it, countless of texts and emails.

Philip drove her back to the white mansion. Cynthia ran to Sarah and hugged her.

"The hell?" She exclaimed. "Where the heck where you? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Went somewhere with Philip", she said. Philip said nothing. He simply walked past them.

"Philip", Sarah called, and scurried toward him. He stopped and turned.

"Do you think we're all connected, everyone on the list?"

He glared at Sarah for a moment. Then, he turned and walked away without a word.

The heck? Sarah thought. Why the heck is he like this?

She watched him fist bumped John who stood at the ingress, then went inside without so much as a glance behind him.

2

Cynthia kissed John goodbye, and drove Sarah home. The sky was darkening, and thunder boomed predicting rain. Gary didn't ask them where they were or what they did. He'd prepared lunch, and kindly saved them.

The three of them sat in silence, chewing on their food. Sarah didn't have any appetite. More and more questions poured in her head, and she felt the need to satisfy them with answers. She left her plate of café de Paris de sauce and left the room. Nobody stopped her.

Back in her room, she grabbed a new paper and a pen, and sat down to write.

I can do this, she told herself. Just write it all down. I'm not alone in this.

3

Mom and Dad were happy together. They were in love. They did everything together and I could say that they barely kept secrets from each other. Kent and I grew up showered in so much love. We lacked nothing. Dad had everything...everything a man could want, and I thought he was satisfied. But I think I was wrong. I think we were all wrong.

Dad came home one night, and told mom that he wanted to leave. Mom did not understand, and she started crying. My father looked hurt but I think his mind was made up—that he was ready to leave and there was nothing that could stop him. He didn't provide any rational explanation behind his decision or any stupid excuse. Before he left, he told Kent and I that it was for our own good. Mom's world broke down that night. She was crushed beyond repair that night, and it wasn't only her, but Kent and I, too.

Ever since then, mom wasn't the same. She would cry every now and then. She grew so lean, and lost her beauty. She was a happy woman before. She was the most adorable, the most wonderful mother anyone could ask for. She was simply perfect to me, but I had to watch her rot away for a man who left her without any rational explanation.