Fearless Beings

Chapter 21

Tom's POV:
~~~~~~~~~~

I don't think I'll find something here, but I search anyways. Search for something. What, I don't know. I just feel that there is puzzle, waiting to be solved, to be put piece by piece together.

Karen's hatred for Mia. Megan's somewhat warning. Mia's sudden disappearance. Cassandra's lies.

There's something wrong.

And something tells me I shouldn't try righting it, because I'll just mess it more. But I search for who knows what anyway.

James is at school. Karen at work. Dad as well. Me alone.

I slide open one of the three drawers in the bedside table. I can't believe I sneaked my way into my parent's room and had to use one of Karen's always-scattered hair pins to unlock the door.

I find random--and useless--stuff in there: packet of gum, the holy book, a picture of God knows who. That's it for the first drawer.

The second drawer: albums, a lot of them.

I skim through the pictures in there. Two old couples holding hands. A young Karen. Another girl who looks exactly like Karen, but not her. Dad. Hannah. James. Me. Hannah and James. Me and James. Me, Hannah and James. Our whole family at a christmas I don't bother to remember.
And then, to my surprise, I find Mum.

She's not what I remember. She was younger in the photo. Her hair, brown like mine, was in two braids. Her smile so big and wide, showing off her straight white teeth. Her eyes twinkled with a tinge of... sadness? She looks weird. Like she was holding a deep, dark secret that might as well be her doom. But she was trying to hide it, trying to pretend like everything is okay, trying to convince whoever is looking at the picture that she was fine.

As if lit on fire, I drop the album. It lands with a thud! on the floor. I shake my head furiously then press the heels of my palms against my eyes.

Ding dong!

I flutter my eyes open, and blink, trying to dilute the blackness around my eyes. My legs move to the door on their own accord. I peek through the peep hole and see it's only Karen. Back from the grocery store.

I swing the door open and help her unload the groceries.

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" Finally Karen speaks up when the tension in the kitchen becomes unbearable. I almost ask her if she asked it because of the heavy uneasiness in the air or out of pure ignorance.

"Ouch," I say sarcastically, then add a smile. "I'm guessing you forgot then and want me out of the house?"

Karen puts down the plate of eggs on the counter. "What? No--wait, forgot what?" She moves around the kitchen, pulling out an electric whisk from a cabinet.

"It's a long-weekend, Mum."

She turns around, electric whisk still in hand. "What? I'm not following. It's Wednesday today."

I raise a brow. "Check your phone."

She frowns. "I don't know where my phone is."

I sigh, long and deep. "Here." I hand her my phone. I wait a couple of seconds for her mouth to form an 'o' before I laugh. "What, Mum?Alzheimer kicking early already?"

She rolls her eyes with a little smile. "Sit down, little boy."

"Mum! Don't call me that."

"Fine, fine." She puts up her hand in the universal sign of surrender. "Whatever--is that my phone?"

I turn on the stool I'm sitting on to follow her gaze. "Why is it in a measuring jug?"

Karen shrugs and starts laughing, her eyes wrinkle at the corners and lines around her mouth deepens. Soon enough, I find myself laughing with her.

She's not old. It's just with all the stress and pressure she carries on her shoulders, refusing to let anyone help her, refusing to burden anyone.

After we sober up, I ask her the inevitable, "Why do you hate Mia so much?"

She bits down on her lower lip. "I don't."

"Mum, really. Why?"

She shakes her head, rubbing her forearm. "I don't, Thomas. Really."

I clench my fists behind my back, "Okay, fine. Don't answer. Or better yet, lie." and then walk out of the kitchen and to my room.

I hear her call after me, but I ignore her, slamming the door after.

Why are there so many questions? And why are there no answers?

It's like everyone knows what's going on in my life, save for me.

•••

"He said that?" I tilt my head to the side.

James licks his cranberry-flavoured lollipop. "Yeah. Maybe. I don't remember."

I purse my lips. Now, Dad, why would you do that? Why shut down James when he asks about my mum and tell him not to speak of her again?

"Tommy, I want to know more about Aunt Anna."

I toy with the navy blue thread bracelet around my wrist. "She was the nicest person you would have"-- my voice thickens. I clear my throat.--"came across."

"More."

"She used to give children tons of sweets on Halloween, enough to make them visit a dentist soon," I say, and once I start talking about her, I can't stop, like the words are pouring and flowing out of my mouth without control, without anything to hold them back. "She taught me how to ride a bicycle. Once, I even dared her to eat a radish right from the ground."

James gasps, laughing. "Did she do it?"

I smile painfully. "She only took a bite before she spat it out."

"Ewww!" James crinkles his nose, still laughing.

"She was awesome, James."

"I want to meet her!" James jumps up and down, with a suddenly newfound enthusiasm. "This time I'll dare her to eat a lychee."

To James, lychee is the worst thing your taste buds can ever taste. "You can't."

He stops jumping and sits down on the ground, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why not?"

"Because she's gone," I explain.

"She'll come back," he rationalizes.

"I'm afraid not, James."

•••

Before me, lies a newspaper coated with dust and dirt. Headlines written in capital, bold letter.

A T R A G I C F I R E K I L L S
O N E R E S I D E N T O U T O F
T H I R T Y - F I V E, B U R N E D I N
A N A P A R T M E N T

On the twenty fourth of July, 1786, a similar unusual incident happened. Now, more than two centuries has passed, history repeats itself. Reporters report a once beautiful and well-built building, now nothing but ashes, burned before them to the ground. Due to traffic jam, firemen could not make it on time. Thirty four individuals exited the building totally unharmed. Later on, the firemen discovered a body practically fried. The anonymous corpse went under forensic science, but no one could tell who was the person under the mercy of this tragic fire. Police departments did not find any suspects, and, finally, after a few months, the case was titled as yet another unsolved mystery.

Now I'm definitely sure something is wrong.