The Ways We Become Undone [ON HOLD]

Chapter Six

THE NEXT time I spoke to Peter was four days after my first confrontation with him. It was the day Robert Rivers returned from his trip and also the day I approached him with my very own proposition.

“You don’t want to be paid?” Robert looked quite surprised. A smoking pipe was hanging from his mouth and emitting a smoky haze from its chamber, drifting past my face. I coughed softly.

    

We were sitting in his office, a dreary room with old-fashioned red carpet and a cherry desk stationed right in front of two large windows that reached the ceiling and provided the only light into the room. Besides from those furnishings and the oddly angled bookcase on the other side of the room with a reclining leather chair next to it, the room was very atypical from what I was expecting. Examining Robert’s desk, there was no framed photos of Collin or Irene or even Emilia propped toward his direction to give him a sense of sentiment. There weren’t even any mounted diplomas to show off his esteemed credentials. Instead, there were just a few files, an open laptop, and my newspaper clippings.

    

“I want to be compensated in a different way is what I mean,” I replied with my eyes still focused on the newspaper clippings.

    

“You want me to reopen this case?” Robert lifted up one of the clippings. It was the very first article about Sebastian being reported missing.

    

“I want you to find out more about it.” I felt strange, sitting there and asking help from someone I barely knew. But what other choice did I have? “And in return, I’ll tutor your daughter for free.” I felt bad for lying since Irene didn't really need any tutoring.

Robert didn’t look at me after hearing my offer. He was still looking at the newspaper clippings. “Sebastian Ainsworth, fifteen, declared missing after not coming home from school,” He read the title of the article out loud before flipping to the next one. “Suicide note signed by Sebastian Ainsworth found, nearly a week after declared missing.” He went to the next one. “Sebastian Ainsworth declared dead, but where is his body?”

    

Robert let the clippings fall from his hand carelessly, landing in front of me on the desk. My lips were pressed firmly as I stared at the small perfect square articles that I had cut so perfectly, so precisely; and here they were, being treated thoughtlessly as if they were the failing grades of a determined child who fell too short. I stared on until my eyes started to burn and grow wet with tears, to which I finally blinked. One tear managed to crawl free though, gliding down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly before it got the chance to fall. Too much time had passed since the last time I actually cried in front of someone. I wasn’t going to let it relapse now, not especially in front of someone I barely knew.

    

“It’s been four years since this circumstance happened,” Robert said slowly. He paused for a few moments to cough harshly before continuing, “What I mean is…I don’t think there’s much more we can look into on this.” I felt his hand touch mine and I was reminded of the hospital therapist. She had done the exact same thing.

    

I gritted my teeth and pulled away, not roughly, but slowly as to not offend him.

    

Even though I was the one being offended here.

    

“His body wasn’t found,” I reminded him. I looked back at the newspaper clippings. I looked at the picture of Sebastian the article had printed out. It was his sophomore yearbook photo, his last yearbook photo. He had on that familiar expression I was used to seeing, the curl of his lips making a half smile. It surprised me to believe that you could flip through a yearbook full of smiling faces and not even think what could be hiding behind them.