BEAU (original version)| ✓

40

• CHAPTER FORTY •
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I've watched that shed for three days.

It's ironic because I seem to have taken over for Ethan. Ever since our encounter, he's kept the conversation between us to a minimal and made caring for his son his new priority. Acting like a good father is so unusual of him and I don't know whether to be concerned or happy that Marc is finally basking in the attention he's been seeking for his whole life.

I'm a bit on the sidelines now, slipping over the edge of his mind as the days progress; a fading figment.

My bed is empty tonight without somebody to comfort. Usually it's Marc, but I wish he would be the one comforting me as I teem with indescribable emotion. But he's earned his father's love and approval, something he's been searching for his whole life, so now they share a room together. When we exchange glances, his blue eyes are empty – he reserves his smiles for Ethan.

It's so fucking unfair because of everything I've provided (or tried to) in the absence of his parents. Now that one is gone and the other is starting to shape up, it steals my purpose. The only purpose I served for myself and brother, gone as if I weren't the one slaving to make sure he woke up everyday feeling like it was worth it open his eyes. To feel like I was the only one he ever needed.

It's staring to feel like he doesn't need me.

But I need him.

The moon is pale, and the air is bitterly cold. As I wrap my arms around myself for warmth, I trudge across the backyard and regret my decision to leave my jacket indoors. Frostbite creeps its way up my toes and to my fingers, numbing my nerves. It's only sufferable because in my pocket the keys to the shed jangle.

I had rummaged through his room earlier this morning when he was off working – at least that's what he called it. More like drinking himself to oblivion while his girlfriend was still missing. So much for insisting that he didn't know who had locked the shed. If he honestly believed that I wouldn't see past his white lies, then he's a stupid sonofabitch. I can't pretend that everything is alright when nothing is alright. I can't pretend that Ethan, my brother, and my mother are alright.

She's not. She's not even here. She's lost and cold and afraid and...what if she isn't breathing?

Stop it. Stop saying that. She'll be back soon.

And it pains me to think that once I open that shed and discover the truth, whatever it may be, that I'll begin to regret seeking. Ignorance really can be bliss. I can pretend I don't know the ending. I can move on wondering and write the story myself. I won't have to face what I don't want to.

I reach the shed and fish for the keys in my pocket. Its silver color shines in the moonlight, a secret coming to light. My breathing becomes laboured as I insert it into the padlock, I exhale white clouds of winter air and twist it left. The satisfying click and popping of the lock is amplified by the silence.

"What the hell are you doing, Beau?"

Ethan's voice immobilizes me in a way that acts worse than the temperature. His presence hovers behind me, threatening. I can almost hear his own ragged breathing. "You looked through my room for my keys. That's how you got 'em, eh?"

"You said you didn't know who locked the shed," I say, turning on my heel to meet the eyes of my misery. "I knew it was you this whole time, Ethan. Why won't you just tell me what you did to my mom?"

"I ain't done nothing." He spits on the white snow and scratches the scruff on his jaw. "Now lock the shed and give me back my keys."

Not when I've come this close.