We're Not Related Anymore...

Pictures in The Attic

Hi, everyone! I uploaded and then took down two chapters. Pictures in The Attic is a replacement for the chapter called Preparations. They are mostly the same except that I changed the point of view. Enjoy!

Jacob: Present Day

Maddie's words about pretending our relationship isn't what it was still bother me by the time I wake up the next day. Actually, 'bothered' isn't the correct word. I'm pissed off.

Somewhere in my brain, there's a rational voice screaming at me to not take her words to heart. She's grieving, it says. She's in pain and your relationship is a sore spot that everyone's been avoiding since the moment you both got here.

But that voice can't get through to me. Not when I stay up most of the night studying for my final exam. When I wake up the next day, it's after barely three hours of sleep. Unable to stay still, I get up and get ready.

In the bathroom, I finally decide to shave. The stubble that's been growing is finally gone. But instead of feeling clean and looking better, my lack of stubble, just draws more attention to the purple bags under my eyes. There's nothing I can do about that though and so I pad down the stairs. When I'm downstairs, I go to the kitchen and get the pot of coffee going. Maybe caffiene will cure my tiredness.

While I wait for the machine to finish, something tugs at my memory. Last night, I had a dream. I couldn't remember what it was when I woke up but it's coming back to me in pieces.

I'm in a car. I'm on the phone. I'm saying something to someone, the words inaudible and then there's a screech, a crash and then nothing.

I don't need a psychologist to tell me what the dream's about. Keegan just died in a car crash. It's my brain's way of processing his death. However, the more I think about it, the more I remember other things. Real things.

I run my thumb over the lip of my coffee mug. It's chipped by the rim but it's a favorite of mine and I've never allowed anyone to throw it out. As I do this, I think about a phone call I received a couple of days ago. I was walking around campus, defragging after a particularly awful biology exam when Keegan called me. I was surprised. Keegan never made direct contact with me.

"Jacob? I was hoping you would pick up."

"What's going on?"

"There's something that's been weighing on me recently. I was wondering if we could talk when you come home for the holidays."

"Why can't you just tell me now?" I wasn't planning on going home. Back then, I'd been planning my trip to Los Angeles.

"Because it's about the letters. Look, I think it would be better if I explained to you in person."

The letters? There is only one bunch of letters I know about that he could've been referring to. At the time, I was barely aware of the conversation we were having. But now, those words are all I can think about. What had he wanted to tell me about the letters? I guess, now, I'll never know.

My mom comes in just in time. The coffee is done brewing and I fill up my mug and the one she takes out the cabinet and slides across the counter to me.

We don't waste time exchanging pleasantries. One look at her haggard-looking face tells me she hasn't had a good night's rest. I hand her her coffee and together we drink the scalding liquid in silence as we watch the sun slowly rise out of the speckled kitchen window.

"I'm headed with the girls to your grandmother's," she tells me after a long sip. "She's arranged for her church group to meet us there." She doesn't sound too enthusiastic about that. I guess she's not ready for people yet. "Keegan's aunt told me she'd be by. Do you mind staying in the house to see if she needs help with anything? I asked Josh to stay as well in case she needs you two to take the heavy boxes out of the attic."