Where They All Go

~Chapter twelve: End~

Day twenty-five.

I sit in my car, looking in dread at the small blue house. I tried to do this yesterday but I couldn't. But today would be the day. I reach into the back seat and grab the small duffle. I take a deep breath. You can do this. I open my door and step out, holding the duffle loosely in my right hand. I flex my left, feeling the breeze on my stumps through the bandages. They'd asked if I wanted prosthetics and I say maybe one day. But not yet.

I walk across the street and ring the doorbell. It takes a few moments for someone to answer.

"Hello?" A short grey-haired Korean man peers out from behind the door.

I force a smile. "Hi, are you... are you Swazi's parents?" I can feel tears forming behind my eyes already but I blink them away. Not yet. Save the tears for later.

"Yes, but wh-" the man starts but he's pushed aside by a tall white woman with dyed red hair.

"Are you the man?" she asks sharply.

I nod.

"But you're still a child!" she cries.

I try not to be offended, instead, I smile weakly and nod again.

"Please, come in, come in!" she ushers me inside. The house is warm and smells of chai tea and coffee.

The woman grabs my arm. "Please, sit."

I do, I sit in a purple armchair, setting the duffle at my feet. The couple sits in the chairs closest to me and leans forward, their eyes eager. I clear my throat.

"Since... Since I was the one they found her with, they gave me her stuff, and-and I thought I would be best if I came by and gave it back to her parents."

"Did she suffer?" the man asks abruptly.

I suck on my bottom lip, willing myself not to burst into tears.

"I-I, I don't think so. She was surrounded by people who cared for her. We-We did our best to make her... her passing as painless as possible." My voice cracks halfway through the sentence and I finish it with a thickness to it.

The woman reaches over and places her hand on my good one.

"Thank you for coming by. If I understand correctly, you two were close?"

I nod, trying to swallow a sob.

"I understand how difficult this must be then, so thank you again. Would you like to see her room?"

I nod again. The couple stands and I follow suit, grabbing the duffle as I do so. They lead me through the tidy kitchen and down a hallway before stopping at a door and gesturing for me to go inside.

Carter's room is small and square, with an unmade bed, a small shelf stuffed with wrecked paperbacks, water-stained hardbacks, and notebooks that are falling apart. There's a messy desk, a small dresser and a closet.

I set the duffle at the foot of her bed and look around at the bare, cracked, blue-grey walls.

"We'll leave you for a moment, hun," the woman says sweetly.

"We will?" the man whispers.

The woman glares at him and drags him away, the door swinging shut behind them.

I sit on the bed, basking in the still silence. So, Carter, this was your room. I can't tell if I hate it or not.

I stand and open the closet. There's a tattered blanket and pillow on the floor. Did she sleep in here? I move to close the door but something in the blanket catches my eye. A book. I reach down and pluck it out. The title has been scratched out, the blue cover covered in pen marks. I open it and something falls out of it, fluttering slowly to the floor. I bend down and pick it up.

A small face smiles back at me. A half Asain, half white little girl with long black hair and glittering brown eyes. She looks to be maybe three or four. I flip the photo over and read the scrawling handwriting on the back.

Ryan, age 3. She misses her mom.

Ryan. Why does that sound familiar? I turn the picture back over and stare at the small face. And then I see it. It's in the smile, the nose, and sharp face. It's Carter.

She misses her mom.

Carter's last word bounces around in my head.

"Ryan."

I tuck the picture into my back pocket and take a deep breath. It's okay Jac. It's okay. I stuff the book into my coat pocket and exit the room.

~~

After four cups of steaming liquid, I finally escape the suffocating grasp of grieving parents. I lock my car doors and relax, telling myself just to breathe. I can feel a warmth on my face and I know that the tears have finally fallen. And I let them fall. There's no point in trying to stop them now.

I reach into my pants pocket and pull out my phone. My fingers shake from anxiety as I type in the numbers and hold the phone to my ear. Breathe Jac, breathe. You did it.

"Hello?" Blake's voice is comforting to my frayed nerves.

"Hi Blake," I say weakly.

"Jac. Did you do it? Did you see Mr and Mrs Moire?"

I nod. Wait, she can see you, idiot. "Yeah, I did. And I dropped off her stuff."

"Good job, Jac."

I scramble for the book. "I-I found something though. They let me in her old room and I found something." I pull the book out and then remember the picture is in my back pocket now. I reach around, trying to grab it but the book falls off my lap and hits the car floor.

"Shit." I grab the picture and bend over to grab the book.

"You alright? What did you find?" Blake asks her concern carrying over the phone.

"Yeah, I just dropped something." Something else falls out of the book and I pick it up. It's a note that has an address and a little message written on it in fading green ink.

In case they come to get us, save Ryan.

"I think..." I stare at the note.

"You think what Jac? What's happening?"

"I think I just found a picture and the address of Swazi's three-year-old daughter."

There was silence over the line, then.

"What?"

I set the picture, note, and book down and take a deep breath.

"I think Ryan deserves to know what happened to her mother."

"How can you even be sure? Swaz would've been like twelve when she had a kid."

"I can't be sure and there's only one way to find out." I turn on my car and buckle my seatbelt. "I'll see you around Blake, wish me luck." I hang up and pull the car into the street.

Maybe this time, I won't fail.