Echoes Of The Other World

Chapter 2

Life didn't feel real. The memories of what had happened just hours ago kept flashing back to me as I stood outside Uncle Lewis's apartment, staring blankly into the distance. I wondered who would miss him. Who would mourn his loss. Would anyone remember him in the years to come? Would there be a grave marker, a headstone bearing his name, or would he simply disappear, forgotten by the world.

After I calmed down and the shock of losing yet another close relative set in, my father and I talked. I could see he was trying hard to appear strong, but he looked older than his years, his shoulders slumped, and his expression grim.

We were standing outside the apartment, away from the smell. The police had come and taken my uncle's body away. He was old, but the manner of his death was surprising to me and my father. He had been stabbed. In the chest. Several times. His face was still intact. However, it was twisted in pain and fear. If I'd arrived earlier, maybe he'd still be alive.

But there was no point thinking about it. All I could do now was move forward. My father patted me on the shoulder and pulled me into a hug. I didn't have much time for hugs, but I enjoyed this one, especially given the circumstances.

"So, what happens to me?" I asked when we broke apart.

"I'll talk to your mother," he said, looking torn. "And we'll figure it out. For now, you should probably stay in a hotel or something."

"I guess I can handle that," I said.

"Here, I have some cash on me." He handed me a wad of cash, which I stuffed into my pocket without counting.

"Thanks."

"Hey, uh, listen..." my father's voice trailed off.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful," he said.

"Of course," I nodded. "And thanks, Dad."

"For what?"

"For everything."

The words felt meaningless, but I knew that no other words would do justice to my feelings. I watched my father as he walked away, back toward the parking lot, and for a moment, I didn't know what to do. There was a numbness to everything, as if the world had slowed down and become gray. Then, I turned my back to my uncle's apartment. And started walking.

I wasn't thinking at all. My body was moving on its own. The sun had long since set, but even if it hadn't, I was sure I would've kept walking. I made my way across the parking lot, turning toward the street and setting off down the sidewalk.

It was surprising that no one was around. The streets were deserted, and even the occasional car that passed by was a blur. I watched the people inside their cars and saw their worried expressions and their tense postures. They were all so consumed with their own lives that they didn't have the luxury of stopping to look around.

I needed to find a place where I could sleep for the night. I stopped when I saw a large red and white sign above a door. The motel sign blinked in the darkness, the neon letters glowing a bright crimson. The name of the place was too faded for me to read, but it seemed like it would suffice.

It was an older, run down motel. Its brick walls were covered in peeling paint, and its windows had long-since been covered by boards. The parking lot was half-full, with no obvious signs of life. I stood outside, staring up at the building. It had been an impulse decision to come here. And even now, I wasn't sure why I chose to do so. Perhaps it was a sense of exhaustion, a need for somewhere to sleep. Or perhaps, more likely, it was the desire to finally experience something different. To finally be free.