Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
❝ let your burdens rest upon your spine ❞
THE MOMENT Christopher Li walked through the front door late at night, Imogen knew something was off. She knew it from the way her father's footsteps lingered with added weight, the way his face sagged more than usual. The weather outside was dark, damp, and unruly, a pathetic fallacy that did nothing to help the mood of the Li household.
Christopher was always disconcerted and held an aura of gloominess about him. This Imogen knew from her father's job as chief of police in small town Rennwood.
Still, that didn't explain her father's downcast face. Even a hundred petty thieves wasn't exactly stress for Christopher Li, so what could be bothering him?
This ran through Imogen's mind as her parents spoke in hushed tones and quiet whispers that not even a hawk's ear could grasp.
Curiosity killed the cat, it's not a good idea to eavesdrop, her mind scolded her. It was true, other people's business was often none of yours.
But satisfaction brought it back, she thought defiantly as she craned her neck further toward the sounds, consequences be damned.
At times like this even Imogen felt a little bit of unease.
Abruptly, and always abruptly, that was how it was with Helen, she entered the room. Imogen jerked her head backwards, as if touched by fire, and knelt her head over her work like the responsible student she was.
"Imogen, can you come here a moment please," Helen's voice was placid and smooth, a shift from the rough tones Imogen was used to. Suspicious, but nothing that would raise tension.
"Yeah sure, what's up?" She slid down into a chair, looking intently into her parent's faces. Finally, she might get a glimpse into whatever had so upset the Li household today.
"You do not 'yeah sure what's up' your parent's Imogen, we are not your friends," her mother said sharply. She held idealistic values of the perfect family and most certainly her perfect daughter.
Her father sighed deeply, "Now's not the time Helen, there are more serious things to discuss," he turns, taking his daughter's hands in his, "Imogen, we have some, well, shocking news for you," he said every pause laced with pity.
Imogen was past worrying, she had gone straight down to frightened. The last time this had happened, her halmoni* had died. A death in the family would explain the worried tones, and grudging steps. You are worrying over nothing, your family is all healthy, she could see herself mocking her, but jumping to conclusions was her nature, not knowing things was her nemesis.
"What's wrong Dad?"
"That boy you would bring over sometimes, Liam Waters was his name wasn't it?" he returned her question with a question. At the mention of her boyfriends name, Imogen felt fuzzy, Liam always made her feel better.
"What about Liam? Is he okay?" Her voice took on a concerned tone. Christopher's eyes look in every direction but his daughter's.
"Liam committed suicide last night, ttal*," he says gently. Imogen's brain spins, Liam and suicide didn't go together. Liam was happy, they were happy. He had the perfect life. People like that don't just up and go kill themselves. Just like Erin.
"No, no it's not possible. Wh-What are you saying appa*?" It couldn't happen, Liam was alive, she was sure of it.
"I'm sorry sweetheart," he shook his head, holding his daughter tight. It pained him to see his only daughter like this, he knew she was still haunted by the events of four years ago, and putting her through it again was only reopening old wounds.
"No!" she pulled out of his grip, grasping her phone tightly, dialing the ever so familiar number.
He'll pick up, he'll pick up, he'll pick up, she chanted incessantly in her mind. He would pick up, and smile at her through the phone, saying her name only the way he did with his smooth voice. He'd ask her what's wrong, and she'd say nothing, only a rumor that he was dead, and they would laugh together at the silliness of it all.
But he didn't pick up.
She called once, twice, thrice, and all went to voicemail.
Sorry, can't take your call right now, call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me.
The humorous voicemail that had once brought her laughter now brought dread and despair pooling at the bottom of her stomach.
Looking up through blurry eyes, she saw the piteous looks on her parents faces, "That doesn't mean anything!" she sobs, as they wrap their arms around her, holding her together, "Doesn't mean anything," she whispers and repeats.
