Chapter III, I'm Back

It is time. I finally am going to meet my sister once again. That tragedy made me lived in a mental hospital for a while. No, I don't feel ashamed to admit it. After all, I'm finally out and going to meet my sister now. The first thing I see after I got out, is a flash. I don’t even have any second to enjoy the scent of freedom. People coming at me and taking my pictures, some handed me a mic and giving some harsh questions. Don’t they have any feelings? The first thing they do after I got out is asking the same question I got all the time.

“Who is the culprit?”

“How does he look like?”

“Do you recall anything new from that day?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Will you tell us in detailed about what happened?”

All they think about is rating and money, fuck my feelings. I feel exploited mainly because two years ago a woman comes to me and ask me things about the tragedy. She showed how empathetic she is towards me. I thought she cares but she just wants to make a book. It is turned up best selling and I got royalty but fuck with royalty I don't need people to know what I've been through, what I feel, what I know. I feel naked. They know it all yet still asking those kinds of the question once I got out. Disgusting.

A bodyguard escorts me to a black car with tinted glass. After going in, I see mom and dad already there. They both wear black and holding hands uncomfortably. They then take turns to kiss my forehead. They thought I didn't know about their divorce yet. Even a dimwit knows from their gesture that they forced it all. They don’t even look at each other. What a joke.

“Hi, cupcake."

“Hi dad, hi mom.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I have never been this ready.”

We drive for a while. All I can see are pine trees sideways and some wild animals. I guess she was buried in some secluded place on purpose so people won’t come near her grave and just let her rest. We stopped in front of a cemetery. The place looks old and haunted. I mean it. The statues are half-broken, some don’t have hands and some lose their head. I could feel some sort of tightness in my chest. I just hope my panic attacks don’t relapse the moment I see her. We then get out of the car to walk to her grave.

I still can’t believe someone who once living now just a lump of dirt and a stone. I keep my hand on her stone as if I pat her head.

“We will give you some time.”

I could hear their footsteps getting farther and farther. My focus is now back to her grave. Grace, I wish I could say how much I love you, how that should be me who died. I wish I could trade my life for you. Do you know how much I've cried and screamed in these past five years? People keep calling me crazy and I got so many medications, shots. Do you know how many times I've tried to end my life? I still can't believe that day, the night before, we were playing together. We watched some cartoons. You asked me to sleep with you but I said no. That rejection is the biggest regret in my life. That 'no' which I said had led you to sleep, forever. I thought so. After a while of mourning you in a mental hospital, I now know that this isn't my fault. It's the killer's fault, the robber's fault. He shouldn't have entered our house that day, he shouldn't have killed you. It's okay Grace, rest well. I’m going to catch him. I’m gonna torture him until he asked me myself to kill him. He would go through things you have gone through and even worse.

I wipe my tears and walking to the car. From afar I could see them bickering again. After all these times they still blaming each other. Well… I still blame myself after all but I just don’t get it why don’t they work together to catch the culprit. I mean they do have resources, network. I guess their image and status are more important. I sigh and look up. It’s so funny to think there’s something, someone, God, looking down on me. If God exists, he won’t let four years old die tragically or makes a ten years old girl trauma or ruin her only family and let the culprit let loose.

They finally look at me and smile. They hug me but there’s no warmth. I just feel something inside me change. I no longer care for these superficial acts. I mean for the past five years, they just visited me like twice or thrice. They are too busy drowning themselves in work so they don’t have to accept reality. I wish I could do that too, I want to run away too. You adults always act selfishly.

The driver takes us to a house I don’t recognize. It’s not as big as our old house but with all the baggage we carry inside our hearts, I bet none of us would want to go back. I guess they learned from the past that is why the fence is pretty high. We were also greeted by security. The house design is pretty modern with dark paint and a hint of white paint. The yard is pretty big and guarded by two dogs. They have been trained well, they don’t bite nor reacting to my sudden appearance. We go inside to find some of the family made a surprise party.

"Surprise!"

I smile, thank them and ask for directions to my room. I don’t have any energy to socialize with people I don’t close with. I better wasting my time looking for clues than talking nonsense with those people downstairs.

I’m going straight to a laptop in that room. I Googled ‘Duncan family tragedy’ and in a second I got a lot of results. I brace myself to open it one by one. I don’t even know whether I’m ready or not but this is the only way for me to make peace with my past. I need to know everything, the truth. I could hear my fingers clicking here and there. I don’t found any useful information. Almost all the things on the internet about my family tragedy are something I already know or made up. The sounds of people downstairs are no longer heard. Maybe some of them had decided to go home or maybe all of them got tired. Suddenly, someone knocks on my door softly.

“Anna, let’s have dinner together.”

I close everything and set a password to this laptop. I ain’t dumb. I close the door and walk downstairs to find my mom and dad already sitting at the dining table. I see one bodyguard and two maids standing nearby. Roasted Duck on the table looks appetizing along with Sapo Seafood and fried noodles. Suddenly I hear familiar footsteps from behind. I look back and see Thomas.

“Thomas!”

I run to him and hug him tight. I don’t even feel this happy meeting my parents. Thomas feels more like my dad than my actual dad. He’s been serving our family since my dad was in college. He hugs me tightly and then pats my head.

“Welcome home, miss.”

He then reaches his hand. It’s very unusual for him to shake hands with me but I welcomed the gesture. I feel something in my hand. Some sort of a paper. I know he’s up to something. I act indifferent and put the paper inside my pocket. We then part our ways.

After dinner, I rushed to my room and locked the door to read the message Thomas left.

"Shed behind the house, 11 pm."

I pretend to sleep and turning my lights off. I trust Thomas with all of my life. He is the one who persuades my parents to change their minds by letting me stay out of the mental hospital, he even offers himself to take care of me. Ironically, my parents are ashamed to have me in their house screaming, crying, and have psychiatrists around. So I ended up in a mental hospital.

I look out of the window and see the shed’s light going on and off as a signal. I come down slowly tiptoeing past the room I believe as the master bedroom. On the first floor, as I suspected I found my dad sleeping on the couch in the living room. The television showing nothing but noise and buzzing sounds. I walk carefully and go outside. When I pushed the white door that leads to the backyard, I was expecting something creepy but I actually am impressed by the scenery. The light from the full moon radiates perfectly. I look up and see many beautiful stars with a barely noticeable hint of clouds. I bet tomorrow gonna be sunny all day. This place is nice but also so quiet. I could only hear the sounds of the night like frogs, crickets as I walking by. The wind that blowing onto me gives me chills, the piercing cold kind of wind that makes me shivered. I knock on the wooden door three times.

It takes a minute and I don't hear any answer. I put my ear to the door and heard some noise inside, the sounds are more like boxes that moved here and there. Thomas then opened the door.

"Come, fast."

He then put his finger in front of his lips. Mime a pose of shushing. The second my feet step into the shed, I see something so fascinating. Do you know the board in detective movies and maps with needle and thread all around? Those are displayed in front of me. I also see photos of Grace, clipping newspaper all around, and even some alleged suspects. I see it for real.

“I thought you might want to learn about it, miss.”

I couldn’t hold myself any longer. I let my tears fell. He hugs me. His old body trembled and all I could hear is a muffled cry of him, we both sitting there on that wooden floor mourning the same person. I’m not the only one who still cares about Grace. Thank you, Thomas. I owe you. A lot.