The Metal Children

14 A Memory Forgotten

Barbs' car wasn't exactly new. It was a second hand old Honda with a sunroof she had barely even used. If she could recall, the black old Honda would be around eighteen years of age, perhaps. Nevertheless, it was still in a good condition, well-maintained and doesn't produce any suspicious or threatening noises as it runs.

Barbs pushed the gear to 'P', and pulled the handbrake up. She smoothed her sunflower skirt before she turned to Taufik at the passenger's seat, and sent him a hard stare through her pair of dark aviators. "Here we are. Are you sure we're in the right place?"

Taufik nodded slowly. He was already dressed in a clean white t-shirt and a pair of jeans he had made Barbs bring over this morning. There was a key in his right fist, chained together with a dog tag of an address. He uncurled his fist, and the address embedded on the shiny metal surface gleamed with the metal key it was with. "17, Sultan Street, South City."

He peered outside the window of what seemed to be an old double storey house, majestically standing on its lot along with the row of houses on the street. It was long abandoned, as told by the yellowing colour of the white paint that had once been a shade of white cotton spread on the surface of the walls and the pillars. Plant vines curled around the beams and against the wall like veins underneath his own skin, blue and green. The wild grass that had surrounded the house grew to an untamed height. There was nothing else that had told off that the house is inhabited. The wooden-framed windows were shut, and the stone cobbled pathway had been littered with fallen grass and soil with no footprints.

"It looked somewhat creepy," Barbs commented, taking off her aviators. "Serene, but creepy."

Taufik said nothing else. He furrowed his eyebrows and fixed his eyes on the key laid on his palm. Mak Farah had dug the key from her little wooden box she had kept in her bedroom last night for him, telling him that he had deserved to know. What lies in the house that stood before them now, was everything he had wanted to know all his forgotten piece of childhood.

Everything before Taufik Jutek.

The ride from Mak Farah's house and 17, Sultan Street took about forty minutes, but none of the time was spent revealing the story behind the key to Barbs. Taufik felt like didn't seem like it was an appropriate time to talk about it, but Barbs was the closest to him out of the rest of his adoptive siblings. Still, he didn't like keeping secrets.

"So, what now?"

Taufik gave a lengthy exhale. "I'm going in," he said, nearly inaudible. He was about to exit the car, but Barbs had caught his wrist.

"How can I know you won't run away like last night?"

"I won't," Taufik said reassuringly. "If I don't come out within an hour, you can call the rest of the C.E.S. to find me. I'll allow that."

Barbs chortled, shaking her head. "You're not funny. Try harder."

"I'm serious. Launch a giant-sized search party if you have to." His tone was half-joking nevertheless. "Just don't destroy the house. It's where I spent the early six years of my life, you know."

Barbs froze, her lips apart as she tried making up sentences. "It's where- You mean- Wait, what?" She glanced at the key in his hands, and the house through the car window, and then back to his face. "You never- How?"

Taufik paused, as if trying to construct properly a good story flow in his head, but gave up quickly as he told her, "it's a long story."

Barbs gave Taufik a concerned look, and reached for his hand comfortingly. It felt like a hug to him. "Do you want me to come with you?"

He shook his head. "I won't be long."

"I'll wait right here. Just in case you try to run away again like last night," she attempted a weak joke to cheer him up.