For Him

“Right here is fine.” I mumbled feebly to the driver. As I climbed out onto the cold street in the pouring rain, I felt my heart wrench. I haltingly stumbled up to the door of the detention center and opened it. There was a short, sturdy man in a blue policeman’s uniform sitting at the small rectangular desk at the entrance. “I’m here to see Lucas Peters.” I choked out to the short man. He took a large key ring off a hook behind the desk and walked me down the long, lifeless, grey hallway.
We walked for what felt like hours, but he finally stopped at a large metal door at the end of the hallway. I prepared to choke back tears that were sure to come as the man turned the key. When he opened the door, I led myself into the small white room. It had a large metal table in the center with two metal chairs. One of the chairs was not taken, but the other was occupied by a tall muscular boy about the age of seventeen. He had long flowing blonde hair and clear crystal blue eyes. His face looked hollow, as if he hadn’t smiled, laughed, or had any hope in years; it was a face that made him look about fifteen years older then he was. I smiled as sincerely as I could at the boy who had caused me so much suffering, so much pain. “Hey Lucas,” I half-exclaimed, half-mumbled. His face perked up at the sound of my voice. “Hey Terry!” he exclaimed robustly. I could not understand how he could be this ecstatic to see me when he knew exactly why I had come.
“So…Lucas, I need to know why you did it.” I stuttered. His face automatically darkened into the bleak hollow figure that I had seen just seconds ago. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said gravely. I immediately burst into tears. “C’mon!” I screeched, “Why do you think you’re here?! Why did you do it Lucas? I need to know why you killed them!” His expression of emptiness immediately turned into rage. He quickly stood up and threw his chair against the white walls of his cell. Hard. “After all of these years, you’re seriously going to believe those police officers!? I did nothing to mom and dad. How could I ever…” His rage was beginning to die down. As quickly as it left him, sadness took its place. Before I could even blink, he was curled up at the base of the table crying harder then I had ever seen anyone cry in my life. “Please,” he choked “sis, you have to get me out of here. You have to find out what happened to them.” A second later, the short man was running into the room and forcing me out, trying to convince me that visiting hours were over. I was not stupid; visiting hours did not end for another three hours. When I was about to leave, I caught a brief glimpse of my brother’s pained expression. It looked like a man who was going through horrendous torture. I quickly flinched out of the room, unable to look at this face, the face of somebody I loved.
I had to find out what had happened to them. For him.
I hailed a cab and was back at my house as soon as possible. Empty, just like it always was. No one but a fish and a hamster to keep me company. And then of course there was always the mind-numbing drone of the television to keep me occupied. I also had my pool in they backyard, but all I could do was dip my feet in the water and sit on the ladder. I had never actually learned how to swim. I noticed, however, a small movement come from behind my small retro couch; the one my mother had bought when she was in her “hippie days”. I had to chuckle slightly at this long-repressed memory. I saw more movement; very slight at first. All of the sudden the dark room flickered with movement as my friends jumped from behind the small pieces of furniture that had concealed them just moments ago. “Happy Birthday!” they all shouted in unison. There were twelve of them; the only twelve people that had ever felt like real family to me; the only ones that weren’t taken away from me. Just then, Jackie, my greatest and closest friend, pulled me by the sleeve to where the other eleven were sitting and standing. Her short black hair look neat and she seemed focused and attentive, unlike some of the other guests.
“Terry,” Jackie exclaimed, “where have you been all day? I haven’t seen you since ten this morning.” I could tell by the way her expression changed that mine had mirrored my brother’s; hollow and empty.
“I was visiting Lucas.”
“You can’t be serious.” she said with a look of pure concern in her eyes. “Terry, I already told you. Visiting Luke drains you. Nothing good can come out of those visits. Especially since he may be dangerous.” If she hadn’t of had that worried, exasperated look in her eyes, I would have smacked her. I could tell that she was saying this out of real concern, not just to make my brother, my own flesh and blood, sound like an evil person.
“I know. I just had to ask him one more time. Jackie, I think…” I mumbled, “that I believe him. Her mouth fell open wider than I thought was possible. “How can you believe him? He single-handedly tore your parents’ throats out. He was standing right next to them at the side of the road just minutes after they were killed. How can you think that he didn’t do it?” I was taken aback by her sudden boldness, but I reminded myself that she was worried about me. “I think he may have been framed.” I said meekly. I quickly walked away before she had any time to come up with another way to trash my brother. I grabbed a soda from the fridge and waited for the party to end; waited for a full six hours, the clock chimed two o’ clock a.m. and they were forced to leave.
As soon as the last guest unwillingly left and I had picked up all the scattered soda cans and paper plates off of the floor and the furniture, I darted up to my room and pulled the small wooden box out of my pastel green dresser. Inside was a colorful necklace make up of beads of every color of the rainbow with a beautiful shell in the center. Also inside the box was a note; a note written to me by my brother on his fifteenth birthday. That was the night everything had happened. With tears in my eyes I read the letter to myself and then again out loud
.
Dear sis,

You have always been there for me and I will never be able to thank you for the things you have done for me. I hope this necklace says anything that this letter can not. As for my absence at the party tonight, I am truly sorry. I know how hard you worked on it, and I know I promised I would be there. After this letter is tucked into your dresser, I will be gone. I need to travel west. I have a feeling that something terrible is about to happen. I can not explain why. Please do not try to follow me.
I love you and will love you forevermore; to the end of time

-Lucas

He had written the letter on his favorite typewriter; he believed computers were too technologically advanced. It made me laugh to think of his old fashioned ways, and only at the age of fifteen. Almost the second I stopped laughing, I fell asleep, clutching my bead-and-string necklace close to my heart.
When I awoke the next morning, I heard the familiar sound of my alarm clock. It was comforting; soothing to know that in my messed up life I could rely on something to stay the same. I propped myself up on one elbow, but when I did, I heard the sound of paper crinkling. I quickly found the source of the crinkling noise; a small slip of paper folded in half under my elbow. I may have had a bad night, but I knew that I had not left the paper there. I quickly grabbed and unfolded it. The only thing that was written on it was:

Open your mailbox

I almost passed out when I saw the familiar black lettering of Lucas’s typewriter on the small slip of paper. I don’t know why, but I walked down the stairs, almost like a robot, out the front door and to the mailbox. I shuddered once, very quickly, but then courageously opened the mailbox. Nothing exploded in my face, no paint, and no cherry bombs, so I figured I was safe. All that was in the mailbox was a large manila envelope. It had nothing written on it, so it had obviously not been dropped in the mailbox by the mailman. I poked the envelope and ducked. I must have looked pretty stupid to the neighbors. When the envelope didn’t explode, I grabbed it and ran into the house.
As I carefully pinched the small metal tab and opened the envelope, a wave of grief overcame me. There was a small typewriter key tucked into the envelope; the same one that belonged to Lucas’s typewriter. Also enclosed was a large video cassette tape with a note taped on the top.

Want some answers?

I was so overcome by grief and depression, I blacked out
When I awoke several minutes later, the black videotape was still sitting on the wooden table. Fearing what I would find on this roll of tape, I quickly popped the tape into the VCR and pressed play. Immediately, the screen was lit with red and green, stockings and pine trees; the warm Christmas feeling was almost visible. The screen was also lit with a very familiar face. I immediately began to weep as I recognized the smiling face on the screen as my mother’s. How was this happening to me? I was supposed to be the normal one in the family; the one that wasn’t dead or in prison. Nothing like this was supposed to happen to me. As I stared blankly at the television, a certain feeling of loneliness crept up on me. All of the sudden, the video cut to black, and a message popped up on the screen in large black letters. I cringed with hateful and painful feelings at the sight of the typewriter print.

Haha. Bet you didn’t see this coming. Such a shame. They were such nice folks. I bet I can tell you who killed them. But you have to find me first. Till then, Terry.

As soon as I finished reading the note, horrible pictures flashed onto the screen. Pictures from the crime scene; the scene where my parents had been murdered.
It truly was a gruesome picture. Blood everywhere, and my parents mangled, lifeless bodies lying on the rocky earth. The normally quiet pier was full of people; police officers, detectives, and frightened pedestrians. I saw a familiar figure, my brother, being hauled into the police car in the back of the frame. The whole scene was sickening to relive, so I quickly picked up the remote. In my haste to turn off the hideous image, the remote slipped out of my hand. I was running to my room crying before it the cold linoleum floor.
As I sat in my room, letting my tears flow freely, I noticed that my small wooden box was sitting on the table wide open. When I looked inside, all that was left was the letter. In the place of the necklace, there was a small picture; another picture of my parents gruesome death. Once again, I passed out. This seemed to be becoming routine for me. I awoke several hours later with a cold cloth pressed against my forehead. Jackie quickly ran to the couch with a combination of worry and relief on her face. “Oh my god Terry! I was so worried about you! I came over to see you and no one answered. I let myself in and went up to your room to see if you had fallen asleep. When I got there, you were out cold! I am so glad your okay!”
I pulled myself up with the back of the couch, but as soon as I did an astronomically sized migraine hit me. Jackie noticed me flinch and carefully lowered me back onto the sofa. “I think someone is messing with me.” I mumbled.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I think someone is trying to use my parents’ death as a way to get to me.”
“Why would somebody want to do that?”
I paused for a moment. “I have no idea.”
Jackie seemed very worried and confused by our brief conversation; almost taken aback. I understood that it must be painful to hear that your best friend was being harassed. Her face seemed to recover quickly. It was as if she believed that this was some sort of an elaborate prank. This made me feel slightly neglected, but I could not let this show. “I just need to call the police and report it. They may know what to do.” After trying and failing again to pull myself up into a sitting position, Jackie grabbed the phone off the hook and handed it carefully to me. She listened patiently and intently as I sat on the phone with the dispatcher for twenty minutes. When I got off the phone, she had hundreds of questions to ask me.
“What did they say?”
“They said that they would try and wait it out. If that doesn’t work, they’ll put the house under surveillance. If they still can’t shake this person, they’ll have to move me to and…undisclosed location.” I stuttered as I said the word
“Undisclosed location? You mean like…like a witness protection program type of thing?”
“I guess so.”
Her face began to turn red, like she was holding back tears. “They could never send you away. You could stay at my house. You’d be safe there.”
“If the police say that I have to leave, then I guess I will.”
Her expression of sadness quickly morphed into one of anger. She was absolutely fuming.
“That jerk! You can’t leave! You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had!”
I felt terrible, but there was nothing that I could do. We sat in silence, watching television until she had to leave. I escaped to my room, trying carefully not to bring back the horrible headache that had plagued me earlier. As soon as I reached my large fold-out, I fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, I woke up very lazily at noon. I trudged down the stairs to get myself a bowl of cereal. That was about the extent of my cooking abilities. My mom used to cook wonderful meals for us all the time. Unfortunately, I did not inherit her gift. After finishing my bland cereal, I walked down the street to visit my friend Alex. When I rang the doorbell, I was greeted by her spiky hair and short pixie-like stature. She constantly had a giddy smile burned into her face, but she looked concerned. I tended to have that affect on people lately.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nice to see you too.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that you look…different. Empty almost.”
I knew she was going to say that. It made me feel like my brother; hollow, empty. Ignoring her comment, I let myself into the house and collapsed on the couch. She gave me that look again; the same look that Jackie had given me many times yesterday. I despised that look.
“So seriously, what’s wrong with you.”
But I didn’t hear her. I was asleep. After everything that I had gone through over the past two days, I needed the sleep desperately. I woke up about an hour later. Alex wasn’t home anymore. To be honest, I didn’t even remember why I had come over. I think I had just needed a little bit of comfort in knowing that there was somebody close by that I could trust. Feeling stupid for falling asleep at Alex’s house, I quickly left and began to walk down the street. While walking home, I began to think more about what had happened to me. I figured I’d do exactly what the police said. I would wait it out.
I had been sitting at home for about an hour when the phone rang. I figured that it would be Alex wondering where I had gone. Maybe she hadn’t left the house; she was probably in the shower or something. I walked over to the phone and checked the caller id. I didn’t recognize the number, so I thought it was a sales call. If it was important, they would call back. About a minute later, the phone started to ring again. This time, I picked it up. A low voice erupted on the other line, but I could not tell what gender the caller was because it sounded like they were using a voice changer.
“Do you like the little present I sent you?” the person laughed. “Don’t let it get into your head that “waiting this out” is going to make a difference. I do know who killed your parents. All you need to do is follow the clues, and I’ll tell you. Good luck.”
The line went dead.
I sat there for about an hour; not moving, not talking. I had no idea what to do. Apparently my “wait it out” plan was not going to work, but what did the person on the phone mean when they said I had to “follow the clues”? Nothing was making sense. It seemed like the life I had tried so hard to weave back together was beginning to become unthreaded. As I sat by the phone, I did the most logical thing that I could think of; I called the police.
As soon as the dispatcher picked up the phone, I had to tell them everything. I told them about my parents and my brother, and finally I told them about the phone call.
The dispatcher told me that they would do everything in their power to track the phone
call. About five minutes after I hung up the phone, it began to ring again. Fearing what
awaited me on the other line, I squeezed my eyes together tightly and pressed the button.
Thankfully, it was just the dispatcher. To my horror, the dispatcher told me that there was no call in the phone records that had come from today, besides one that I had gotten from Alex early this morning. Thousands of thoughts and fears were simultaneously rushing through my head in one moment. Where was I supposed to go from here? What was going to happen to me if I could not figure out what this person wanted in time? Confused, I decided to go to bed and relax. Then, I would sort through this mess in the morning.
Unfortunately, I must have been completely brain dead to think that I could just “go to bed” when I had a dilemma like this rushing through my head at about five thousand miles per hour. I finally gave up trying to sleep and focused my attention on something much more important; what was going to happen when morning came. I finally collapsed from exhaustion at about six in the morning. When I awoke, it was about one in the afternoon. I heard the doorbell ring just as I started to drag myself out of bed. I slowly trudged down the stairs, almost like I was sleepwalking. It had been a very rough night. I then opened the large crème-colored front door and peered onto the porch. There was nothing there but a small package in a square orange box. Frightened and confused, I quickly scooped up the box and rushed into the kitchen, scissors in hand. As I heard the tear of the packaging tape, I was more frightened then I had ever been before. More frightened then when I had watched the tape, more frightened then when I got the phone call, because this was one of my clues. I was sure.
At first I didn’t see anything in the small box. It looked completely empty. Then I noticed a small piece of orange paper taped to the bottom of the box, disguised by its tacky color of its packaging. When I removed the paper from the box, it had one simple sentence on it.

Meet me at the abandoned car lot if you want to know everything.
5:00

This was going to be much easier than I thought.
Normally, a note like this would have terrified me, but if this meeting would bring me even the smallest bit closer to finding out the truth, than it was worth any risk. I quickly bolted out the door and climbed into the front of my car. I loved my car; it’s pretty average. Blue, black interior, pizza boxes and soda cans scattered in the back seat. I quickly backed out of the driveway, so quickly that I almost took out the mailbox, and sped out of my neighborhood. It was then that I realized I had no idea where I was going. Pictures flashed through my head, scenery and neighboring buildings, but I couldn’t think of a single car lot.
So I drove.
I drove for somewhere around one hour. Luckily, I had left so early that it was only about 4:30. I needed to find this place now though. I resorted to stopping at every run-down little Seven Eleven and Burger King to find out where I was supposed to go. Eventually some cashier at an old pizza joint in a town I had never heard of pointed me towards the only car lot in what seemed to me like the entire universe. When I arrived around ten after five, there was no one there. Desperate, I began to search. After searching for what felt like an eternity, I found a small box in the same tacky orange color that had been sitting on my porch not but a few hours ago. I quickly stripped the wrapping paper off of the box and opened it. There was nothing inside but a bag of Cheetos and a number two. What? Was this going to be like a stupid scavenger hunt on a bad episode of Blue’s Clues? What was I supposed to do with a bag of Cheetos?
I ran through all of the places in the area where I could buy Cheetos. Okay, so there were about 80,000 places to buy them. I began to cry. There was no way I would be able to find the correct store, and I had no idea how much time I had to find this place. I flipped the bag over several time to try and see if I could find a clue, any clue. Suddenly I noticed a sticker on the back for some gas station in Bloomington. I thought about where I had gone to get to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. If I was correct about where I was, then Bloomington was only about a half hour away. Quickly wiping the tears from my face, I climbed into my car and drove, though I had no idea what I would arrive to.
I reached Bloomington at about 6:00. At this point I had already almost fallen asleep on the steering wheel twice, so I needed to find whatever I needed to find as fast as I could. I quickly found the gas station; it was the only one in this place. I could never understand how people grew up in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do. I ran into the gas station and began running up and down the isles. Normally everyone there would have been confused by this, but since the only other person there was the cashier, and he had probably seen dozens of strange people during his shift, he didn’t even seem to notice.
I found the small orange box behind the Cheetos on the shelf. Not very clever if you ask me. After opening box after box this whole “scavenger hunt” thing was getting old. I just wanted to find this person and be done with it. Inside this box was a small woodchip and a number 1. I had no idea where to go from here. Obviously this person hadn’t thought through this clue thing very well, that is if the numbers are counting down. You would think they would have at least started at 5 or something, but I was at a dead end. I didn’t even know what this woodchip was from. I didn’t know what to do, so I simply went to the parking lot and sat in my car, to stunned to think. Where was I supposed to go from here?
Suddenly it came to me. It hit me like a slap in the face. The woodchip. I had only seen that color of wood once before in my life; it was the same wood used on the pier. I knew it all too well at this point. Though I hadn’t been there since my parent’s death, I had spent plenty of time there before that, with my dad. He would always buy me cotton candy, then we would ride the Ferris wheel and he would win me an elephant at the ring toss game. A different color every time. I sped to the pier as fast as my ancient car would allow me.
It didn’t take long to get to the pier. I could probably get there blindfolded if I wanted to. However I didn’t feel like risking death to show off my directional skills, so I skipped the blindfold. As soon as I arrived at the pier I began to search. I searched every ride, booth, bathroom and even the cars of the Ferris wheel, but there was nothing. I couldn’t stand it anymore. The stress was too much, and there was nothing to be found. Trying not to let my tears escape failed, so I let them flow freely. Suddenly I heard a slow clapping. I looked up and wiped my eyes until I could clearly see Jackie standing in front of me.
“Bravo, bravo. I have to say it wasn’t very difficult to get here. The clues were pretty obvious, except for the last one. But you pulled through. Terry gets an A+.”
“It was you,” I stuttered. “Everything, the murder, framing my brother, everything.”
“That’s right. But I don’t think you’re going to tell anyone about it.”
“You don’t scare me Jackie, you don’t even have a weapon. What are you going to do,” I asked, trying to sound much more confident than I was.
“I don’t need one. I’m surrounded by my weapon!”
I had no idea what she meant by this, but I couldn’t get reckless, so I stayed where I was and tried to hold my head high.
“They’ll know. I’ll go missing and then everyone will know. Then they’ll hunt you down and they’ll catch you.” I think I was much more confident about this answer than I should have been.
“You are stupid, aren’t you? Just think. Teenage girl. Dead parents. Insane brother, and no friends. Who’s really going to think that you were killed by anyone other than yourself?”
Oh. I hadn’t exactly thought of that. Before I had time to come up with a response, Jackie dashed at me and I found myself falling, but only for about half a second. It was after this that I felt the crushing waves crashing over my head and pulling me under. Thousands of thoughts flashed through my head, all simultaneous. I struggled to try and find the surface but after a few seconds I had no idea which way was up or down. All I could see was darkness. I was running out of energy, so I let my eyes slowly drift shut.
All of the sudden I felt myself jerked in some direction that was apparently upward. All at once I felt myself hit the surface, and I took in gulps of air, sweet, fresh air. I felt my limp body smack flat on the dock, and I was able to open my eyes. When I did I saw Alex staring at me with an overjoyed expression.
“You’re alive! Oh my god I thought I had lost you! But you’re okay! Oh my god I saw your car here and I saw Jackie running away and she looked like she might be trying to get help so I came over here and saw an arm like floating at the surface and it was you and you’re okay!!!”
“Slow down a little bit,” I said, just happy to be alive. Then reality set back in and the smile disappeared from my face.
“It was her, Alex. She did everything. She killed them.”
Alex’s jaw dropped about ten feet as I explained what had happened to me and what Jackie had told me.
“It’s okay. When I saw you I called the police, so you can explain what happened to them.”

TIME LAPSE

Today was a big day. I had to be up extra early, but I didn’t care. I was done with noon wake-up times. Besides, I needed to get to the center by seven if I didn’t want him to be waiting. I hopped in my car and drove the same familiar path I used to drive once or twice a month. Only this time, it was not painful, and I was not afraid. Even the sun was shining, brighter than I’ve ever seen it. I arrived outside of the center just in time to see a young boy emerging from the large grey building, the boy I had seen so many times before. He looked so different, so much more full of life, and I was ecstatic. As soon as he saw me he ran up and hugged me with the most loving hug I have ever received. We just stood there, hugging. Then, he whispered in my ear, “Thank you,” and I knew, that no matter how difficult it was to come to this, it was worth it.