Is That Mom

Part 8 of Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Ethan's Growing Determination

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Part 8:

Confrontation with the Past

The kitchen was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as Ethan shifted his weight. It was early in the morning, but the sky outside was already a murky gray, hinting at a storm brewing. Ethan had barely slept; his mind had been restless, tangled in a web of thoughts that he couldn't untangle. He had been replaying the moment with his grandmother over and over, trying to make sense of her words. "She was taken from us." What did that mean? Why wouldn’t she tell him more?

He hadn’t planned on confronting her again so soon, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed answers. If he had to push, even if it meant shattering whatever fragile peace still existed between them, then so be it. The photo had become more than just an old picture—it was the key to understanding everything. Ethan had to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

His grandmother walked into the kitchen, looking surprised to see him up so early. She was still in her robe, her hair slightly disheveled, and she carried an air of weariness, as if the weight of the past few days had settled deep into her bones. Ethan could see it in the way her shoulders slumped, the way her eyes darted around the room without really focusing on anything. She seemed smaller, diminished, as if the grief she had tried so hard to keep at bay was finally closing in on her.

“Morning,” she said, her voice softer than usual, almost tentative.

Ethan didn’t respond right away. He was leaning against the counter, the photograph clenched in his hand. He had been carrying it around, not wanting to let it out of his sight, as if it might disappear if he did. Now, he placed it on the kitchen table, face up, and slid it toward her.

His grandmother’s eyes flickered to the photo, and for a moment, her face was blank. But then he saw it—the slight widening of her eyes, the tightening of her lips. She knew exactly what he was about to ask, and Ethan could tell she was already bracing herself for it.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he said, his voice steady, though he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “What does this picture mean? Who took her?”

His grandmother didn’t answer right away. She pulled out a chair and slowly sat down, her hands folded in her lap. Her gaze was fixed on the photograph, but she didn’t reach out to touch it. It was as if she was afraid of what it might reveal, even though she had already seen it countless times.

“Ethan, please,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let it go.”

“I can’t,” he shot back, more forcefully than he intended. “You keep saying that, but you’re not giving me a reason. I deserve to know the truth.”

His grandmother’s eyes darted up to meet his, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flash of anger. But it quickly faded, replaced by something that looked more like fear. “Sometimes the truth isn’t what you want it to be,” she said. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

“Maybe for you,” Ethan replied, his voice rising. “But I’ve spent my whole life not knowing. I’ve had to fill in the blanks myself, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of pretending like everything’s okay when it’s not.”

There was a long pause, and Ethan could see the struggle on his grandmother’s face. It was as if she was caught between two conflicting instincts—one to protect him, and the other to finally tell him the truth. She took a deep breath, and for a moment, he thought she was going to speak, but then she shook her head, her hands trembling.

“I’m doing this to protect you, Ethan,” she said, her voice breaking. “If I could spare you this pain, I would.”

Ethan’s patience snapped. He slammed his hand down on the table, the sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. “Stop saying that!” he shouted. “Stop pretending like you’re doing this for me. If you really cared about me, you’d tell me the truth. You’d let me decide whether or not I can handle it.”

His grandmother flinched, and for a moment, he regretted his outburst. But he couldn’t back down now. He needed her to see how serious he was, how desperate he was for answers.

“I found something,” he said, his tone softer but still firm. “An old forum post. It mentioned a community, a place that’s off the grid. I think it’s connected to her. And I’m going to find it, whether you help me or not.”

His grandmother’s eyes widened in alarm, and she reached out, as if to grab his hand, but then she hesitated. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” she said, her voice urgent. “There are things… things you don’t understand. People who are dangerous.”

“Then help me understand,” Ethan pleaded. “Tell me what happened.”

His grandmother’s expression crumbled, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry. But she held it back, her jaw clenched tight. “I can’t,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I can’t go back there.”

Ethan felt a cold, sinking sensation in his stomach. “So you do know where it is,” he said quietly. “You know where she went.”

She didn’t respond, but the silence was answer enough. Ethan’s hands balled into fists, and he had to fight to keep his emotions in check. “Why are you hiding this from me?” he asked, his voice raw. “Why won’t you just tell me the truth?”

His grandmother looked at him, her eyes filled with a pain that he couldn’t fully comprehend. “Because the truth won’t bring her back,” she said, her voice shaking. “It will only hurt you.”

Ethan’s resolve hardened. “I’m already hurting,” he said. “And I’m not going to stop until I find out what happened to her.”

There was a long, heavy silence, and then his grandmother slowly got up from the table. She looked tired, as if the conversation had drained what little strength she had left. “I know,” she said softly. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. It’s the same look she had.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. “What do you mean?”

His grandmother didn’t answer. Instead, she walked over to the window and stared out at the darkening sky, her back to him. “I can’t stop you, Ethan,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m begging you, be careful. Some things are better left buried.”

Ethan stood there, feeling a mix of frustration, sadness, and determination. He had come into the kitchen hoping for answers, but he was leaving with more questions than ever. But he had also seen something in his grandmother’s eyes—fear, yes, but also a deep, unspoken grief. Whatever secrets she was keeping, they were tearing her apart.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But I have to do this.”

She didn’t turn around, but he saw her shoulders sag, as if she had been expecting those words. “I know,” she said. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful.”

Ethan wanted to promise, but he couldn’t. Not when he didn’t know what he was walking into. So instead, he nodded, even though she couldn’t see it, and then he picked up the photograph from the table. “I’ll find her,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet resolve. “No matter what.”

His grandmother didn’t respond, and the silence that followed felt like a final, irrevocable break. Ethan stood there for a moment longer, waiting for her to say something, anything, that might change his mind. But when she didn’t, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her standing alone in the dark.

As he made his way back to his room, Ethan felt a sense of clarity he hadn’t felt in a long time. He still didn’t have all the answers, but he knew what he had to do. He was going to find the place in the photograph, and he was going to find out what had happened to his mother. Even if it meant leaving everything he knew behind, even if it meant confronting the secrets his grandmother was so desperate to hide.

He was done waiting for the truth to come to him. Now, he was going to find it for himself.