Lost in Blue

𝕾𝖎𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖓 : Origin

Standing in the room of one's own childhood home was a strange feeling as nostalgia gripped his heart.

Retrospections from more than a decade ago washed over him like a big wave, among them the familiar fondness and warmth he associated with those four walls and the memories of a once happy family of four sitting at the table, surrounded by platters of their beloved bread, cheese and sausage including cups of tea and milk during dinner time, resurfaced. He could see everyone's smiles in his mind's eye, faintly and briefly, only for reality to let them disappear again, seats vacant.

Along came sadness, of what once was and whose presence this house missed as he left the dining room into the small corridor to pass a certain room, probably abandoned the way it was nine years ago. Since the incident, empty rooms had been left behind to be occupied and taken care of by the only living member of the Dorn family besides himself, his mother.

His thoughts threatened to drift away to a memory that would only cause him heartbreak once again, so he cast them aside, as he always used to do when confronted with certain family members absence. Instead, his feet lead him towards the storeroom, the only connection to the attic.

Haunted by the bitter reminder why he was here in the first place, Henning shivered. Never had it crossed his mind that he would search for clues in his former home.

Schneider's revelation a few days ago had turned everything upside down. Despite having asked her numerous times if this was some kind of misunderstanding, the forensic assured him the analysis was not flawed. The dead little boy was, according to genealogical research, Dorn's great-uncle.

Henning still couldn't wrap his head around the idea. His paternal grandmother had never mentioned a brother, not even at her deathbed. No single family member knew, not to mention his until now clueless own mother. It made him question his lineage even more. If he hadn't happened to come across this case, then what kind of secrets did his family hide besides this one? Shock and disbelief were an understatement for what he was feeling – and secretly thinking.

A terrible thought lingered at the back of his mind ever since. The possibility of his ancestors having anything to do with the homicide – or familicide if his nightmarish hunch posed to be true - froze the blood coursing through his veins and his stomach churned out of disgust. As a policeman, he couldn't fathom crime and as a man with basic human decency even less.

He tried to focus as much on the investigation as he possibly could. Asking the dead for the truth was not possible, but in the attic, where most secrets were harbored, maybe he was able to find some clue of his supposed great-uncles identity. And so he pulled out the ladder and climbed upstairs.

Finding anything – a name, a picture or some kind of wicked confession in a journal was something he hoped to come across. If he was going through all the hassle of searching every corner by digging through dusty boxes, it better be worth it.

Among the usual stuff one would find scattered in boxes stored in the attic, namely old-fashioned clothes, old toys treasured for one's own children in the future – which was definitely not happening in the next few years according to Henning despite his mother's constant pleas for grandchildren – as well as old-fashioned well wrapped furniture, he didn't fail to notice the musty smell so fitting to few thin layers of dust spread on the ground and cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. He cursed himself for not having brought rubber gloves with him.

As a gush of insufferable heat made its way through the wooden slats, he was immediately thankful he had decided to be casually dressed for this occasion by just wearing a thin, white T-shirt in combination with gray pants. It was only the beginning of June, but it seemed this summer's temperatures would be merciless.