Missing Pieces

3

My home felt cold.

The more I explored it, the more barren it seemed. Everything was beautiful, but it was lacking vitality. It felt like a model; as if it was simply for viewing and not for living in.

In silence, I followed Soren around as he showed me where everything was. It was a very strange feeling—realizing that I'd grown up here yet needed a tour like this was some showing.

"Wanna check out your room?" He asked, turning to face me once we'd moved through the entire first floor. My gaze drifted towards the door that he hadn't opened, adjacent to the foyer.

"Does that lead to the basement?" I questioned, pointing to the door. Soren followed my line of sight, his expression unreadable. "You forgot to mention it."

"Yes, but it's unfinished," he said flatly, gesturing for me to follow him as he stalked towards the stairs leading to the second level. "We don't use it for anything. No point in going down there."

I didn't respond, trekking behind him as we reached the second floor of the house. My attention fell onto the ends of a tattoo peeking out from the back of his neck. I was momentarily distracted by wondering what it was, before Soren reached the door at the end of the hallway.

"After you." He stepped aside to let me pass him.

My eyes scanned every inch of the room as I stepped inside, taking in every nook and cranny. I found myself drifting towards the French doors that led to the small balcony. Unlocking them, I stepped outside, my gaze falling towards the forest beginning at the edge of our backyard. It was so dark I couldn't see anything beyond the towering trees lining the perimeter.

I felt Soren's presence behind me. "What's on the other side?" I questioned, pointing to the woods.

"Don't know," he replied quietly. "I'm assuming it goes on a for a while before it's just more land."

I nodded and took one more look at the scene beyond me, before I headed back inside. I moved around my room, pausing when I reached my dresser and found myself staring at a few picture frames.

There were only two, but I picked up the first one anyways. It was a picture of me, obviously a few years younger, and a curly-haired girl standing beside me with her arm thrown around my shoulders. We were both smiling at the camera, and it looked like the picture had been taken in the backyard of this house.

"That's Sage," Soren came up beside me, absentmindedly running his fingers through my hair as he gestured to the picture. I swallowed hard and looked back down at the picture, remembering what I'd been told about her being in the car with me during the accident. "And that's all of us."

My eyes flickered over to the other picture. I set down the one with Sage and I, before reaching for the one with my family.

I briefly studied my brothers and I, and thought that the pictures seemed like accurate representations of the type of people they seemed to be. I noticed that Ezra was missing.

I brought it up to Soren. "He's not a fan of pictures," he said, his lips twitching as he glanced at the image. "Can't say we have a single one with him."

I smiled and turned my attention towards the middle-aged man and woman standing behind Soren, Jude and me.

The woman—my mom—had honey blonde hair that appeared to be closer to brunette than blonde, and coffee colored eyes. The smile on her face seemed insincere as she gazed at the camera, her hand resting on one of my shoulders. The man—my dad—was the complete opposite. His hair was as dark as night, similar to my brothers. His eyes though, were identical to mine; the deepest shade of sea blue. His smile seemed genuine, yet strained. As if he was tired, but forcing himself to be there anyways.