What she left Behind | ONGOING

CHAPTER 15

───── Derek ─────

As I begin to drive the Prescott's residence grows smaller in my rearview mirror, but the weight of my conversation with Chloe is still there, lingering in my mind. Our discovery feels as if it's still pressing heavily on my chest, even though I tried to act so chill about it just a few moments ago. Now that I'm alone, I get to think about it even more, and it becomes harder and harder to assimilate.

The manuscript—a revelation neither of us had seen coming—I can still feel those papers in my hand, and now they temporarily belong to Chloe. I must admit, it feels strange to give away something so personal, something Savannah had kept hidden. A manuscript of her thoughts, her stories, her voice. But I also know it means a lot to Chloe, they truly were like sisters.

I'm still thinking: How? Why? When?

She wanted to be an author.

I don't find it hard to believe, in some way. I know she wanted to leave her mark in this world, and this book could've been how she would've done that.

Why did she never tell me? Or anyone for that matter. Was it because she was afraid? Or had she just needed more time? Time unfortunately we no longer have. From what I gathered in that letter from the literary agent, she had doubts about it. This woman—Rebecca Morrison, I recall it was—said that she should publish it, so I guess she was trying to convince Savannah to show it to the world. It saddens me that she never had the chance to convince herself she should do it.

The further I drive, the harder it becomes to shake her from my thoughts. Savannah was always full of surprises, but at some point, I got to know her so well, that there was nothing she could do that would take me by surprise. Yet this, this was something different. This was a piece of her I had never seen.

My hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter as I pass through the quiet streets—shocker because usually at this time there are quite a lot more people around. And then, out of nowhere, a sign flickers in the corner of my eye. The soft neon glow of an open sign casts a pink and blue hue across the sidewalk—a small bar, unassuming, sitting on the edge of the road.

I almost keep driving, but something about that place stops me from passing it by completely. It's familiar. Too familiar.

Where have I seen this place before?

I slow the car, maybe seeing it for a bit longer will help trigger my memory so I can remember when I saw this bar. And then it hits me—I've been here once with Savannah.

I shut off the engine, staring out the windshield. The memories begin to take shape, dragging me back to a time when things were simpler. The night I came to this bar was one of those spontaneous moments Savannah was so good at creating.

I see the front door of the bar and I swear I can see the image of Savannah and me the night we went inside that place for the first time. As of right now, while I'm sitting inside my car, parked outside, I can clearly hear the words that were said by her.

"Come on, Derek," she says with a mischievous grin, her hand tugging me toward the door. "You need to have some fun today, you've been so down lately. Maybe a drink will help you."

For the first time in forever, I wasn't feeling like doing anything fun. All I wanted was to be at home in my Pjs and eating takeout. But Savannah came to my place and insisted that we get out. I can't say no to her and now more than ever I wished I would've denied her invitation to get out of my house.

"Try working with my dad, you'll know what I feel," I try to put on some fight and not let her drag me inside the bar. I've never heard of this bar before, and apparently, Savannah either. She just told me to drive and said that we would find something to do while going through the streets. She made me stop here, saying that this place seems like it has a lot of character.