Orphaned

Part I

It was Christmas Eve. The smell of freshly baked scones filled the air, along with the sound of the knife on the cutting board. Mother was no doubt preparing things out of haste and anxiety for when Father got home. She always seemed scared when he walked through the door. As if he was going to yell at her, or hurt her. But I'd never seen evidence of hitting, nor had I heard yelling, so I wasn't quite sure what she was so afraid of.

I was sitting with an old newspaper on the couch in our cozy living room. The Christmas tree sat in a full trance in the corner, the string of lights to exhausted to even turn on. In fact, almost none of our lights were on. "Conserving energy", Mother called it, but it was never like this before. Not back when Hallie was here.

I wondered if anything would be the same, now that she was gone. At only 14, she didn't have problems with drinking or drugs, as far as I knew. Who took her, we couldn't be certain, but the police were "working their hardest" to locate her whereabouts.

Sometimes I wished I could just go search for her myself. But I knew that would send Mother up the walls, and she didn't need more to be stressed about these days.

"Dean, come help me with the veggies,"

I heard my mother call. It sounded as though her voice was shaking, her vocal chords tangled in the mess these last few days had created.

I sighed as I folded up the newspaper, but a hint of suspicion poked at the back of my head. Mother never needed help in the kitchen; in fact, she normally shooed me out when I tried to sit at the counter and talk with her. My feet quietly tip toed towards the kitchen. I stopped before entering, listening for anything out of the ordinary. When nothing caught my ear, I turned the corner.

And what I saw then, I will never forget.