Into the Unknown

Melissa Lisbon

Now late into the evening after my mother visited me, which was very pleasant, I sit in my lonely recliner, reading Little Women. A slow read, it is; yet the book is one of my all-time favorite classics. The different personalities of the March daughters combined into one person have always reminded me of my Shelby since she was young. Without mentioning her within the confines of the bound book, that years-old novel has assisted me in the storing of memories of my dearly missed daughter.

The fireplace is lit, radiating the heat towards my body, starting at my toes and slowly crawling up my legs. It's a rushing feeling, and at the same time relaxing.

After I finish the chapter I've been enjoying for the last 15 minutes or so, I place my precious book back on the table beside me. I unintentionally get up out of my chair, walking back towards Shelby's room on the opposite side of the house at the end of the long, dark hallway. Picture frames display themselves with various peoples' faces – mostly Shelby and I – but there are smiles that continue to welcome me, almost hauntingly, as I walk closer to the room I have altogether avoided for the past six months.

I stand in front of the closed bedroom door for what feels like hours, unable to move and progress closer. Looking at the brass doorknob, dusty from neglect, I see my own warped reflection on it. It's a ridiculous sight. My body has become twisted, plump, and skinny all at the same time. A slight smile begins to curve around the edges of my mouth. Then reality snaps back into place and the door is the only obstacle in my way.

With a deep sigh, I close my eyes and clench the doorknob. Slowly, I turn it clockwise. The door opens easily with a slight push and as I widen the growing crack, I begin to see Shelby's room. It makes my heart wrench and ache, knowing I'm stepping into an area I thought I would never have to go back to. But it would have had to come to this at some point, sooner or later.

Shelby's room looks just as neat and tidy as it did the last day I saw her – the day she died. Her bed still made and untouched, the laundry I set upon her bed that morning still lies upon the edge, waiting to be put away. The air is filled with a chill, a certain bitter bite to it that gives me the shivers. The 'creepy' kind, not the 'cold' type. I walk towards her desk, where her knickknacks and decorations are lain about in an orderly fashion on the shelf above. A snow globe from our trip to London, with Big Ben covered in a layer of snow is placed by a framed photo from when we took a picture at the same spot. I remember as we were walking along the River Thames, when she was only 4 years old, Shelby asked me if people lived in snow globes. My only reply was, "My dear, if people lived in snow globes, who would be left to enjoy the sight of them?" At the time it was a silly remark, but Shelby, her father, and I all got a good laugh when I spoke of it. Of course, that was back when we were one big happy family and actually enjoyed one another's presence. Shaking that thought out of my head, I go back to observing what has remained in this room undisturbed by any human presence.

On the surface of Shelby's desk painted sky blue, her diary is opened to the last entry that was written. The date recorded in her lovely handwriting is March 8, 2019 – exactly a week before she was gone. It reads:

Dear diary,

Over the past few days, things between William and I have been starting to get more serious. Well, not that kind of serious. He's been mentioning to me that we might want to start searching for a house (No idea why he would ever say something so absurd). Honestly, I'm not sure if I want to continue with our relationship. Yes, he's a wonderful man, but I don't know if I can see myself living with him forever. That's a long time, right? "For as long as we both shall live," is something I'm doubtful to say.

Extend Corporation is starting to get more confusing. The company's goal sounds great, but it seems as if there's a darker side to the company that nobody else seems to notice. Will has been keeping me up to date as well as he can after he makes trips to see his father, but I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to dig up information. The secret pile of notes I've got hiding in my dresser is starting to overflow. Since Will's father is such a nice person, I rather like to not mention anything about the company whenever I see him. Instead, it is better if he mentioned that sort of thing naturally. Every once in a while James asks about my grandfather, apparently "checking in" to see if he's doing alright. I don't know why James would ever care about my grandfather, but I simply reply because, well, it'd be rude to be complacent around James.

Overall, my dear diary, life is good right now. I feel as if things may be looking up. Grandmother is doing great; she comes by once in a while so enjoy tea with my mother and I. Father still tries with all his efforts to talk to me, but I never hesitate in saying absolutely nothing. His complaints and warnings about marriage are what he's been trying to write to me about, lately (I have saved the letters in the back of the diary for myself to look over and read).

Anyway, Mother wants me to come out of my room now and enjoy some pastime with her for the evening, so I'll leave this entry with that. As always, a pleasure to write to you. Hope you enjoy the new lovely view from the shelf I just put up!

Love,

Shelby

Within that journal entry, there are so many things that make thoughts run through my head. What was going on between her and William? Since when had James and my father, Phillip, become friends? Why was Shelby saying anything about Extend Corporation? How long had Matthew been trying to talk to Shelby . . .? None of what she said was making any sense to me. Things here just seem to be getting stranger by the minute.

"Oh Shelby, why didn't you ever talk to me about this stuff?" I ask myself, looking to the ceiling as if she might be up in heaven looking down upon me, trying to show me a way to figure out this mess she's left me to handle.

As if as an automatic response, the feared thought of Matthew coming to see my precious daughter makes me start to quiver and shake, the sweat starting to form above my brows. I wipe the dampness away, yet my heart still continues to race within my aging body. The last time Matthew came to see us was a few years ago. It ended with me calling the police, simply out of terror that he would harm Shelby or I, but he disappeared before they ever got here.

Pulling out my phone, I search for Liz's number. She'd know what to do, I think to myself. As soon as her number pops up, I make a phone call to her. Immediately, she answers.

"Hello, this is Detective Auburn."

I speak shakily, my voice becoming unsteady from fear and shock. "Yes, hi Liz. It's me, Melissa. I have something I need to talk to you about." There's a pause for a few seconds between us before she replies.

"Sorry, Liam needed something. Anyway, do you want to talk about it right now, or would you rather I came out there? I could be there in about . . . oh, maybe half an hour?"

"Either way is fine with me, Love."

"Hmm, well I guess I could come for a visit then. I'll see you in a little while." Liz hangs up. As if I could feel Liz's smile through the phone before she ended the call, I suddenly feel a calm draft overcome me. For a while, I close my eyes, accidentally falling asleep, still sitting in Shelby's desk chair.

A knock at the front door wakes me up. I jump out of the chair in surprise and rush to the door. As I open it up, there stands Liz in her purple raincoat, ready to come inside.

"I'm so sorry for not coming right away." Whispering, I say "Accidentally fell asleep in Shelby's room." We both laugh at my words, and I welcome her inside.

The dull light coming from the fire glows in the living space, giving the room a warm, relaxed feeling. Liz goes and sits on the couch and I tell her I'll be back in a moment.

With Shelby's journal gripped tightly in the safety of my hands, I make my way back to the living room. There Liz sits, waiting patiently for me. She gives me a bright, cheery smile.

I give Liz Shelby's journal and she looks over the cover with curiosity.

"What's this?" She asks.

"Something I should've found months ago."