Baggage Claim

The Hate Assumptions Bring

Chapter Fifteen: The Hate Assumptions Bring

The sounds penetrated the darkness in Layla's head, and she forced her eyes open, squinting against the light and the swelling. She could hear voices calling out to her, asking her if she was okay, asking her if Aman was on board.

"No" She heard herself squeak in response.

Someone wrapped a blanket around her and she felt the dents of his badge in her back as he used his uniformed body in an attempt to combat the freeze that had confiscated her.

"It's going to be okay, we are going to find her." His words were meant to be soothing, but she knew even the officer didn't believe them.  

The blackened ice water had taken her, swept her under, and kept Layla’s innocence as its prize.

She nodded and closed her eyes again, releasing herself to the truth.

Layla didn’t remember setting the alarm; she hadn’t even remembered most of the drive home. The six-hour trip had taken longer than expected and they had arrived much later than the midnight time frame. She did remember texting AJ canceling their appointment, knowing she would be too drained to attempt anything, not failing to notice the hint of disappointment on Hana’s face.

Her blind attempts to seek out the silence button hit something solid instead, sending it crashing to the ground with a ruckus.

“Darn it, how the hell did that get there?” Layla could feel her irritation growing just as she remembered that her aunt was probably still asleep. Sighing, she pulled herself from the warmth of the bed and got dressed; leaving the mess she had created for last.

‘A&B’

 The letters covered the top of the shoebox while Layla could see the rest of the box was painted black in the morning light. “Just like Aman to be classic even with her most intimate secrets.”  

Layla shook her head and began picking up the scattered items and miscellaneous pieces of paper. She scooped them all up and threw them into the box, noticing the absence of the diary she was sure was there the night before.

The sound of her head hitting the wood frame bar on her bed almost covered the slur of curses that escaped Layla’s mouth.  Rubbing her head with one hand, she used the other to pull out the small journal that had somehow had made its way underneath the bed.

She heard the faintest rustle come from Hana’s bedroom and decided the contents of the box would be best sorted through in the main room. Quietly she picked up the items and tip toed to the living room away from her still sleeping aunt.

The scent of coffee beans slowly worked their way through her senses as she opened the curtains, soaking the room in sunlight. The rich caffeinated liquid beckoned to drag her from the late night hangover, helping to better comprehend what lie waiting for her among her sister’s boxed items. Armed with a mug she found the sun’s strongest ray and took a seat on the carpet. Carefully Layla laid out the items her late sister had chosen to treasure; the awards of excellence earned for her many talents, handwritten notes folded into small wedges, and happy pictures of her sister in her more comfortable times.

Layla sifted through the memories, surprised that most of the photos contained times her and her older sister had shared, all dated and noted in the back lovingly by Aman.

She allowed the tears to muddle her sight as she pulled a photo she remembered well, a shot of Layla standing proudly with a violin as Aman looked on. She turned the photo over and saw it was dated the day Layla had started lessons, with a simple scribble stating ‘my beautiful balloon and me.’