PART 2
I sat in the car for a few minutes, my hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, my breath short and shallow.
It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. My brother was dead. We buried him. I heard the dirt falling on the casket. I heard my mother’s screams. I saw it all… or at least, I believed I had.
But now there was an address. A time. And a warning.
If Dad finds out before you hear me out, Mom will be in danger.
I closed my eyes.
My father. The way he handled the funeral… too fast, too quiet, too controlled. A cold sensation slowly crawled through my chest.
What if…?
I shook my head, as if I could chase the thought away. No. It was absurd. And yet… my brother was alive.
I looked at the clock. 10:47 PM. I started the engine.
The road to Bluebird Canyon was darker than I remembered. The streetlights were sparse—some were flickering—and the houses looked old and silent, as if they had seen things they never told. I slowly turned onto Silver Sea Street.
Number 118. A low-slung house with peeling paint and curtains drawn tight. I stopped in front of the house, killed the engine, and listened.
Nothing. No movement. No voices. Just the sound of my own heart.
I got out. Every step toward the front door felt heavy, as if I were walking through thick water. Before I could knock, the door opened slowly. Henry was standing there. He looked different in the dim light. Older. Tired. His eyes… they weren’t the same anymore.
May you like
“You came,” he said softly.
“How could I not?” I whispered.
