An Agent's Story

Digging Up The Past

The wind was blowing on my face as I sped down the street. Taylor’s hair was flying backwards, almost angelically. She looked so calm and content in that moment. I had been driving for nearly twenty minutes. I could feel that Taylor was holding back the question of where we were going. She had decided to stop after asking it repeatedly, receiving that same answer each time.

I turned the car down a lonely road, sending shivers up my spine as I drove along the narrow path. Eventually, the road opened up to a small clearing. Beyond this were rows of carefully organized stone placemarks. I stepped out of the car and felt like I was going to have a heart attack coming back here, but I had to do it. I had to show Taylor, even though it went against my most basic instinct.

“Chris, why did you bring me here? I mean it is not romantic.”

“Because Taylor, I have to show you something.” I took her hand, guiding her to the spot. All the while inhaling and exhaling deeply. I finally had to start talking, “Taylor, you know how I never talk about my parents. . .”

“Yes,” she said fearfully. “You’re scaring me Chris.”

“Well, this is why,” I stated, stopping at their graves. I fought the urge to drop to my knees and cry my eyes out. Instead, I let a single tear drip out of my eye. Taylor gasped when she saw their graves. She made her way to the ground and slowly traced her hands around their tombstones. I bent down beside her, and started to hug her. This was so weird, I was comforting her when they were my parents.

“How old were you. . .” I heard Taylor whisper.

“Only five. . .” I whispered back. My subconscious had let me start crying, making it hard to talk or even breathe. “They were murdered. . .” I choked out the words.

Taylor then turned around and threw her arms around me. She had started sobbing uncontrollably. Holding her actually made some of the pain of their loss go away. The only sounds I heard for the next few minutes were the random sound of birds chirping and Taylor’s crying. She suddenly pulled away and wiped her cheeks looking at me with sadness in her eyes. “Chris. . . why didn’t you. . . how do you. . . why did this have to happen to you!” She screamed out. She looked me straight in the eyes, realization starting to sink in her. “Chris. . . on your first day at lunch. . . when you had said. . . that you’d seen too many people. . . hurt by people like Chelsea. . . you were talking about your parents. They were murdered. . . by a cold heartless b*tch. How. . . Chris. . . how do you. . . carry yourself around. . . like nothing is wrong. I mean. . . you have to live. . . everyday. . . knowing that your parents. . . are dead. I could. . . I could never live like that.” Suddenly panic was written on her face. “Who do you live with?” She asked, terror in her voice.

“I have an Uncle, Diego,” I lied to her. She couldn’t find out what I had witnessed or that I’m an agent. “He took me in when no one else would. We had moved around a lot. . . but he thought I would be ready to come back here since I am ‘more mature’ as he put it.” I then looked down at the grass and whispered, “I miss them so much. . ."

Suddenly, Taylor’s phone rang. She took out her phone and looked at the caller id. “It’s Veronica. I’m sorry Chris, I have to talk to her.” She hit the answer button and said “Hello?” in the calmest voice she could muster. I couldn’t hear what Veronica said and had to guess. “I’m with Chris,” Taylor told Veronica. I could only assume that Veronica asked where Taylor was. “I’ll tell you later. Veronica, why did you call?” Taylor responded. As Taylor was listening to Veronica she got a worried expression on her face. She eventually closed her phone, worry still clear on her face. “Chris. . . I want to go back to school. . .”