We Broke

t h i r t y - s e v e n

There's so much stuff here.

The envelope's the size of maybe my torso, chest to my waist, but boy, the contents in here?  They are filling up the majority of my living room.  The floor is littered.  I'm not even joking.  

I wonder how she packed all of this stuff in here.  The envelope was really, really bulging when I received it.  

Which led me to think: Who was that guy from earlier?  He looked nice for the most part, but more importantly, he knew Charlotte.  Or Charlotte knew him.

I'm hoping that he was just an accomplice of Charlotte's web.  Simply a part of her plan after she died.  But there's something telling me that that guy isn't really an "acquaintance."    The way he spoke about Charlotte...

Maybe they met on the street or something.

It still doesn't feel like Charlotte's dead.  It feels not real. But the pain is simply numb right now.  For absolutely no reason, I'm just numb.  I want to feel pain.  I truly do.  Pain is something I'm craving.  Heartbreak.

I think in my mind, I think that she's still alive.  In fact, I feel exactly as I did when Charlotte left for a few months.  The same when I found the letter and the empty car.  But now, I know she's not even on this planet anymore.

I pick up a sheet of paper from the ground.  It's a list of random scribbles.    And most of it is spelled wrong.  I spell them out onto a notepad, this time spelling them correctly.  

I read it out, a little proud of myself for figuring it out.  You can't blame me for being proud of figuring out Charlotte's messy handwriting.

Sorry, Char.

 Liam Smith- Who is he?   Found his file case in my father's briefcase, but it was torn in shreds.  For what reason?

Found credit cards in my dad's briefcase as well.  Gosh, I'm glad the caseworker let me have his briefcase for a short minute, among other things.  What the heck is happening?

Woman in the picture I found in Dad's office- Her name is Elisabeth Madden.  Saw her name on the back of the photo.  I took it.

Note to Self:  Stay away from a Bing.  Heard about him on the streets.  I think he's a drug dealer or something.  

Wait a hot pot moment.  Elisabeth Conners is my mother.  Just with her maiden name, I guess.  I drop the list, and get on my hands and knees, searching vigorously for a picture of my mother.

I can see dozens of lists just like the one I've seen earlier.  Her big, etched scribbles make my head hurt.  I even get a paper cut.  I need the picture of my mother.  She's has to include it in here.  All these pages and if she does-

I found it.  It's a color photo.  My mom's hair is long and blonde, maybe to the middle of her back, unlike the short blonde hair I remember her to have.  She's wearing a dark brown shirt with jeans, and she's smiling.  She's SMILING.  Her eyes crinkle up at the ends, and she has a dimple.  

She's the exact same as I remember. Fun loving.  Happy.  Carefree, as you might say.

But the photo is definitely an older one.  I can tell, finding that she looks younger, I guess.  She looks maybe a little older than my age.  She looks pretty. 

I turn the photo over, finding her name on the back.  Elisabeth Conners.  Right there. Smack dab- a little off the center.  Her name, written in neat, small handwriting which I've remembered.  It's my mother's handwriting.

I just stare at the photograph.  It's so-

Nostalgic?  Depressing?  Relieving?  I have no idea.  Do I need therapy or something?  Cause lately, I don't know what I feel.

I place the photo on the table, which is hovering over my head.  I pick up another random piece of paper, my head peeking at the clock. 

 It's almost noon.  I've decided to skip school today, knowing I wouldn't be able to focus one bit.  

The paper I've picked up, it's a newspaper.  And this one has nothing to do with anything I've ever worried about.  It's an image of a guy in business attire.  He's wearing sleek sunglasses, and holding a large briefcase.  He looks like he's made out of money, determined by the red handkerchief, the watch strapped around his wrist, and the cameras surrounding him.  

The headline is the most stupid thing I've ever read in my life- HOT AND RICH BUSINESS OWNER PUT BEHIND BARS FOR MAN SLAUGHTER

I mean, sure, this guy killed someone.  But "HOT AND RICH?"

Only I can dream.

But as I read more, I realize it's about Liam Smith.  That was on Charlotte's list.  

Liam Smith, recently charged of murdering the late Elisabeth Madden and Richard Madden.

My eyes grow wide. My eyes blur out the rest of the words.  Every single one except for that very sentence.

The murderer.  I was told it was a freaking accident.  AN ACCIDENT.  

Why was I never told about this?

-

I'm sitting there, fazed and still.  

Murdered.  Murdered.  Murdered.

But then I feel fury and rage building up inside my stomach.  I yell loudly, loud enough for the bottom apartment to report me or something.  I slam one of the kitchen chairs over, before sitting in the other one.  I drop my head in between my knees, my body trembling.  

My parents were murdered.

M.  U.  R.  D. E.  R. E. D.

--

After I've calmed down after my mental breakdown, (which took a few hours, I'm not even lying) I start to think frantically.

Why was Liam Smith's file ripped up in Charlotte's father's briefcase?  

 Why was my own mother's picture in her father's office.

The more I question, the more I realize that my life is more connected to Charlotte's more than ever before.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Gosh, I put me and my bf's names in here as the parents... lolololol liams gonna kill meeeeee