The Secret

Chapter 24

I had a restless nights sleep, I would wake up every hour, startled by the vivid dream that I kept having. The same one, on repeat, every time I would close my eyes. Baby-face was holding my mam captive in a shipping container. The inside was filled with trash and the walls were rusting. The smell was horrible. It smelled like death. And in the middle of the shipping container, my mother was strapped to a chair her hands tied behind her back with rope. Another piece of rope wrapped around her body, forcing her to sit in the wooden chair. She had a cloth in her mouth, wrapping all the way around. A light shone down upon her. It always ended the same way. Her screams were deafening as baby-face started to slash at her, giving her a painful death. He never killed her, but tortured her, my mind screaming to intervene, but I could not. Her screams sounded so real. They were haunting.

I close my eyes to try and remove her screams from my head, which is proven to be an impossible task. I get up out of my bed and instead of going to the bathroom first, as I always do, I walk out of my room and stand outside the room next to me. I stare at the door, I turn the handle, opening the door slowly. The door creaks a little as I open it. The bed is made. The room is clean. I walk over and sit on her bed. I look over at her bedside table and see the picture of her and I squishing our cheeks together and making a scrunched up face, our lips puckered out. I grab the frame and smile sadly as I stroke the picture. Drops of water appear on the glass of the frame and I quickly realise that it's my tears. I bring the frame up to my chest and hug it close to me. "I love you, mam," I say softly with tears trailing down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." My voice cracks and my heart breaks. It's all my fault. I lie down onto the bed, still clutching the photo to my chest, I curl up into a ball. I let out a few cries into my her pillow. Her scent still present.

~~~

I didn't end up having anything to eat, instead, I put on shoes, not bothering to change my pyjamas, I go outside to the front of my house and I search. I search the bush that separates my house to Jax's house. I walk across the road to the field of grass, searching. I try and look out for a camera, of a mic. Something. Once I fail, I go back into my garden and search the trees, that are lined up at the back of the garden. I run my hand along the pavement, that wraps around the house. I start looking indoors. I end up turning the sofa over, the table. I move the TV stand, looking behind it. I search my mother's room, careful not to mess up the bed. When I find nothing again, I walk away to the door. I look back at the bed, thinking about whether or not I should look under the covers. I shake my head. That's probably the last thing she touched, or it could be the sofa or anything for that matter. I walk out leaving the bed made, not bothering to uncover it. I step inside my room. I look around at my walls. I look through the many boxes that are stacked underneath my desk, which are filled with old photos and some of my old school books which I've kept as a memory. I get up off the floor and lift my mattress to look under. I couldn't see much so I remove the mattress altogether, pushing it off to the other side of the bed's floor. I find nothing. I search my bathroom and as suspected, there's nothing. I sit on the toilet, feeling useless.

~~~

"How's it going?" I ask Jax.

"Horrible." he wipes his face with his hands in frustration.

"Are you getting any closer?" I ask as I sit down on the end of the bed behind Jax, who is sat on his chair, facing the computer.

"Yeah, a little."

I spot a large number of books on the table next to him. Some are opened and some are stacked into messy piles. I look at Jax as he types into the computer. What if Jax isn't actually helping me but helping baby-face? Wait? My mind is racing matching my heartbeat.