Salt

I left Jesse's apartment a couple of minutes later, leaving him a note saying to call me when he got in. It was hard not to cross it out and just discard it, but I think that, after all this time of being patient with him, he owed me this much.

Regardless, I stepped out into the chill air. It was just a little after three, and I definitely didn't feel like going home, so I followed my feet. Wherever they'd take me, I'd meet them there.

Dropping Jesse's chip into my jacket pocket, I avoided colliding into the shoulder of a passerby shrieking into their cellphone. The world continued to spin, unaffected by all the tragedy that surrounded us every day; everyone just kept going and never stopped.

Even I had, in a sense. I'd been so focused on figuring out who drowned me that a young girl died in the crossfire because she'd likely gotten close to the answer. Sure, Ciara wasn't my favorite person in the world, but did she deserve to die? Hell no. And, because of my selfishness, she wasn't here to reprimand me for endangering her.

Hanging my head, I watched my feet as they bounced on the sidewalk, avoiding cracks and holes. They weren't slow, but not exactly brisk either.

When I finally stopped moving, I raised my head. To my surprise, I was facing green trees, moss climbed bark and a dark so simple yet so unsettling. The branches danced, beckoning me inside.

I wasn't scared of the woods, I knew that. They weren't what haunted this town... but beyond that. There was violence and death, and dishonesty and cruelty. I had new reasons to never go there again.

Things were a lot different than how they were when I entered the month, rustled the boughs and left the once-safe and watery banks. I knew trouble, I knew the barbarous tricks these people had up their dirty sleeves.

Taking a final glance behind, I swallowed my trepidation and followed on through.

Almost immediately, my nose was attacked by the scent of pine and ivy, rustling together like sandpaper as the critters escaped the unfamiliar being that barraged into their peaceful homeland. They didn't welcome me here, and even the plants themselves released an aroma that was used to push me out, as if that itself was an omen.

I patrolled the trees and the swollen ground, eyes darting in all directions even though I had nothing in mind to look out for. I came out here on a whim, what could I possibly get out of this?

The leaves used their best colors for my portrait, as long as I didn't leave them in ruins. The dim sunlight peeked in at their peaks, celebrating the life it was responsible for, and the deaths it would still shroud in gold.

The phantom feeling that was leading me in faltered, even if just for a moment, leaving me in nothing but the wake of its crestfallen face. It was suddenly just me and the trees, staring at each other, waiting for one of us to answer.

The nerve I had at the beginning of my journey returned. I'd found the will to move.

I didn't know where I was going, what I was doing; where I'd end up. I could sneak to the city over and I'd have no way of comprehending how I arrived. This train wasn't taking me home, and somehow the steam that I pumped out, lit the way.

To a small, discreet clearing. But one I recognized. It's where we camped out on Founders Day, every year. From here, the lake was a straight left.

The plot where we'd gathered logs of wood and stones to nurture a fire was demolished by acid rain, stained like the bits of broken glass around it. Bottles, cigarette butts, and a singular bent tent peg was all that was left of the night. As if in any other way we'd never existed.

Kneeling down by the flattened earth, I picked up those remnants, eagerly hoping for a jolt of inspiration or memory. But all the secrets that we said we would share didn't disclose themselves to me.

Was this a waste of my time? Perhaps, exclaimed the sigh I breathed.

However, maybe it was by accident, or sheer coincidence, but the sun brightened up and cast a shimmering glow upon the campfire. I found out through blinding eyes that something was hidden deep inside there.

Sticking my hand in, I clasped a slim rectangular object. As I withdrew, I got the sinking feeling it wouldn't be anything I'd cherish.

A phone encased in glittering blue seashells – it couldn't be mistaken.

This was Ciara's.

But if she truly accidentally drowned like they claimed she did, then why wouldn't she have it on her person? Why did it need to be hidden at all? What devastating details was on her device that she thought it required protection?

I pressed the home button, but the outstanding illusion was shattered when it remained lifeless. It was a shot in a million, but it never hurt to try.

If this was my first and final sincere chance to redeem my actions that fateful night, then you bet I seized it. I pocketed her mobile deep in my pocket and left the clearing. Nothing else around it was as important nor life-and-death meaning than this one handheld item.

And, as much as it might upset him (understandably), the only person who could make sense of it was Ambrose.

I'd hate to think it could break him, but if we were lucky enough, then Ciara might not have a password.

If we were going to be left disappointed, then it was meant to be. I would prefer that to leaving her brother, one of my best friends, in the cold.