Dead Hearts

Chapter Five

After my dad slapped me and I went into Logan’s room, I noticed that he had something in his hand. He had hid it behind his back, keeping it from my line of vision (not that I was even interested in it at the time). Today, I intend on finding out what it is.

            I’ve already tried the direct approach. Earlier, he was sitting in front of the TV, not really watching anything, but just sitting there. Kind of like how he was a few days ago. I attempted to ask him about that night, but he kept brushing me off and mumbling about ‘needing to find out’.

            Need to find out what?

            And that’s why I’m standing in front of my brother’s door. Logan, miraculously, left the house today to go to the store, and mom is ‘at a friend’s house’. Therefore, I’m home all alone and no one will ever know what I’m about to do if I don’t tell.

            I don’t exactly feel proud as I quietly open his door – for some reason I’m afraid somebody will catch me even though nobody’s here – and slip inside Logan’s room. Once I’m safely inside, I close the door, still afraid that I’m going to be caught. I can’t get caught. Nobody can know.

            First, I make a quick inspection. Frantically, I look around the room, looking for white papers sticking out of unusual places like in drawers, tucked in pockets of jackets, and even in between the mattresses on his bed. I come up empty handed, and I suppose that’s when the real guilt kicks in. If I want to find anything, I’m going to have to dig in Logan’s room.

            If I were Logan, where would I hide something from myself?

            Rushing over to the windowsill, I nearly trip on all the clothes that Logan has scattered around his room messily. I check underneath the window panel, which is the place where Logan used to hide things from our parents. He always used to have secret love letters with Mary, and he didn’t want anybody to read them. He trusted me enough to never tell anybody about his hiding spot or read the letters myself.

            That’s just the kind of relationship that we had. And now that she’s gone, so is that past relationship. Now, I don’t think that he trusts anybody.

            I think of another place that Logan would hide things. In his shoes. Walking over to his closet, I make sure to move slower so I don’t trip and fall. I pick up his faux leather boots, turning them over to see if anything falls out.

            Nothing.

            Groaning, I toss the shoes back into the closet. There’s only one other place to look, and I’m really hoping that’s where the paper is hidden. After all this effort and exhileration, I need to find that paper.

            Next, I make my way toward his desk. Rifling through his drawers, I feel a sudden rush of happiness when my fingers come in contact with a piece of paper. Pulling it out, I unfold it and see that it’s a letter and that it’s addressed to Logan. But once I open it, another paper falls out and onto the floor. It must’ve been folded up with the original letter.

            Bending down, I pick it up and sit down on the ground so that I can read them.

            Mr. Logan Adams, the original letter reads. Fear and anticipation creeps up my spine, because I know that whenever you have a title in front of your name, then it’s formal.

            We have addressed this letter to you due to the fact that you didn’t show up for your paternity test on December 13, 2012, which is the designated appointment date. You were informed in a previous letter that this appointment was necessary. Since you didn’t show, we have scheduled you another appointment, which will be on December 19, 2012. If you don’t come on this day, then we will be forced to involve the state government.