After 2 months
I was sitting over my notebook while my mother was peeling the potatoes, and Aillish was doing her homework. The notebook was empty and I was unsure about the whole thing. Some psychologists tell their patients that they should write down their trauma. I have never been to any of them but I know this much.
In the past, when I was a child my mother threatened me to take to one. I think she wasn't serious but I stopped crying. I learned to cry without sounds, only with tears. Back then I did it often. Mother never knew why I cried. And sometimes I didn't know either. That's why I couldn't tell the reason. Or I just didn't want to. I can't cry anymore. Not for myself.
I opened the notebook and for a while just stared at the blank lines. Maybe if I write it down, I will be able to move on. And to forget. But if I write it down, what will remain to me? Maybe I become even emptier than a shell. If I write down everything then maybe nothing will be left for me. I can only feel a handful of emotions, and they were mostly negative ones but they were mine. I have only misery and pain, but that's all I have. They are precious. And who can tell me if being empty isn't worse than this?
Hatred and anger. Most of the time these emotions boil in my soul. It is like I have a black hole in the place of my heart and it swallows everything else. A black hole that is slowly devouring even me. Although it is true, they never felt real to me. Shouldn't hatred be more burning, scorching, and unstoppable? It is supposed to be permanent. My hatred usually lies dormant and just occasionally erupts. It's supposed to be like a waterfall that always falls down and not like a volcano that sometimes burst out. And it should be hot like the sun and not cold like mine. Mine is more like an avalanche. Ice cold and once it's started it is impossible to stop.
I was starting to concentrate on my notebook again when the bell rang. We looked at each other in surprise. We live far away from the city so we rarely have any visitors.
"Ailish, please open the door." My mother said to my little sister and she started washing her hands. Ailish got up with a grimace on her face and went to the door.
"I am Detective Édoard Elliot from the Criminal Division and he is Detective Rhys Karston. Is your mother at home?" I heard a deep, gulf voice with a slight French accent. Mother almost ran to the door.
"Yes, I am at home." She said surprisingly calmly. "Ailish go to your room and finish your homework." I can see on her face that she wasn't happy about it, but she did what our mother told her. Obviously, Mother didn't want her to know what they wanted.
"Why are you here?" She asked them coolly.
"Can't we go in?" Inquired about the other one. His voice was softer and more pleasant to the ear.
"I don't think so." She answered firmly. But Karen Callie MacBride has always been a determined woman. "I do not know, why you are here, but I am sure it is a misunderstanding."
"I don't think so, Mrs. MacBride. " The detective sounded as determined as my mother. "When exactly did your stepson disappear?" Hearing this I jumped up and quickly walked to the door. All colour left her face.
"Mother, are you okay?" I asked her anxiously and after nodding I accompanied her to the kitchen. I looked back at the two men over my shoulder. "Please, come in." I was polite but cold to them.
I helped my mother sit on a chair. Seth's disappearance made her really sad. He was like a son to her. She was very worried at first, she almost even called the police but I convinced her that he had gone away on his own. After all, even his clothes were gone. After some time she accepted that he did the same thing as his father. She didn't show it but she was really hurt by it. Ailish didn't care about it, because she didn't have much contact with him.
I poured some water into a cup and put it in front of my mother.
"Drink some." Encouraged her, then turned to the detectives. "Take a seat, please." Maybe I should pretend that I am worried or confused, but I can't do it. I can't take out emotions and display them like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. I could only make my face expressionless.
"Are you Ms. Shaelynn Madailein MacBride?" Asked the younger one in a strange tone. "Stepsister of Seth Michels?" I nodded wordlessly.
"When did you lose contact with your brother?" It was the older one's turn after I didn't say anything more. I hated it when someone called him my brother, but hopefully, it didn't show on my face.
"Almost 2 months ago." I answered dispassionately.
"And you were not worried about him?" He continued.
"His clothes were also gone, so we thought he went on his own way without saying anything." I put some bitterness in my voice to make it like I was hurt by this. If he had done it I would actually be dancing on the table for joy. Faking bitterness wasn't hard because it was a really familiar feeling.
"So what happened? Did he do something wrong? Did he cause an accident? Or did someone hurt him?" I pretended I didn't know anything. It was not hard. Pretending has played a big role in my life. I pretended to be happy and satisfied in front of my mother. That I don't feel hatred toward Seth and I don't wish him dead. And in front of other people, I feigned that I was perfectly normal and there was nothing wrong with me. Pretending in front of the police was not any harder.
"We wouldn't come for something like this." Said the younger one.
"I already told you that we are from the Criminal Division, Ms. MacBride." He added, glaring at me with an eagle eye.
"Excuse me." I tried to save myself. "I didn't hear that part and I don't know much about the police system." I explained. "So, what happened?" For a moment pity glimmered in his eyes.
"I am really sorry to say this, but Seth Michels is already dead." I hope my face didn't give anything away. I tried to remain expressionless, but I am not sure I succeeded.
"Dead? It can not be true." My mother jumped up and almost shouted at the detectives. I tried to look shocked at the news.
"How could this happen? He was healthy." I took over. I wanted to control this conversation as much as possible.
"He was murdered." Mother gasped for air then she crumpled to the floor.
"But who? Why?" I shook my head. "It didn't make any sense." While I was talking to the detectives I tried to keep watch over my mother. I had no idea what to do. Consoling wasn't my strong point.
"Murder usually doesn't make much sense." Said one of them but I couldn't pay attention because of my worries.
"But who? Why?" I repeated without thinking about anything.
"That's what we like to know as well." Murmured the younger, who was in the background most of the time.
It was the first time I actually looked at him. He was taller and younger than his partner but not by much. He looked about 27-28 years old. He seemed young for this kind of job. His raven-black hair curled behind his ears. There were golden spots in his dark brown eyes and he looked almost friendly. What did he say? What is his name? Something with R? Sadly my name memory was very poor.
"Are you sure, it's him?" I turned my attention back to the older man. He was already past 30, closer to 40, but still youthful and handsome. Probably the women love him. Not that the other one wasn't eye-catching, but he was more reserved. He didn't have that „every woman wants me" aura. I hate men like him.
He had black hair as well, but somehow duller. His greenish-blue eyes were as cunning as friendly the younger ones. Both of them had well-built bodies. I wonder if this is a job requirement?
All in all the older one looked like someone I could really hate. Men like him irritated me. I wanted to take away their confidence and let them know they are not a gift to humanity. But I have to be polite this time.
"His papers were in his pocket. It was a miracle they weren't all damaged." Damn it all! I totally forgot about it. I am so stupid. I deserve to be beaten up because of my stupidity. I should have checked his pockets. I didn't even think about it. I thought they would never find him. Bloody hell!
"I see." I nodded stiffly. "Where did they find him?"
"Despite the news of your stepbrother's death you look pretty calm, Ms. MacBride." Noted the one with the brown eye. His gaze became suspicious.
"Someone has to be strong. This time I am that person. My mother needs time, she is not ready to talk or take care of anything." I looked back at him without blinking and at the end, he averted his eyes. "We were not too close, anyway. But of course, I am very sad about his death." I lied easily. "I won't collapse." Both of them looked doubtful but I didn't know what they were doubting. "So?" I raised my eyebrows.
"He was in the forest." Nodded his head behind the house. "He was washed out by the flooded river." Damn! I should have gone further. To the hell with the rainy season. It was such a long time ago that the damn river overflowed. Why now? That is my luck. I made some bad decisions and now I have to survive the consequences. "Can you think of anyone who didn't like your brother? Enemies? Past lovers?" I shook my head. She is in front of you.
"I have no idea." Of course. "Seth is... was a popular guy." That was actually true. He was a talented actor just like me. He always pretended to be nice and charming.
"If you think of something, contact me." The younger man gave me a business card. I glanced at it. Rhys Karston. So that is his name.
"Naturally." I nodded while looking into his eyes. I didn't want him to think I was afraid. They stood up.
"We are leaving, but we would like to talk to you and your mother in more detail in the future." He placed another business card on the table.
"Of course." I accepted and jumped up.
I accompanied them to the door and said goodbye. I leaned my back against the door. I have to do something with my mother and I have to tell Ailish what happened. I slowly released my held breath. This is going to be a really long day.