The Attached

Lost

Present day...

The streets were pitch black with only a few street lights posted on each block, reminding me so much of the bunker than ever. I tried to let my mind wander off that place for the time being, for I tried thinking back to the route I had taken into this town, the night I had returned. The night I escaped, running onto the road and that lady found me, taking me into town. She dropped me off at the police station. Maybe if I go back to the place, I will remember the route we took to get there. That could work. That will work, right?

  I didn't know what time it was, only hours in the night on the sort of chilly air surrounding me. Maybe it's only twelve or one in the morning. I wasn't sleeping all that long, was I? After that fight with mom and dad, when I locked myself in my safe closest, I couldn't have been sleeping the whole night, right? No, maybe just a few hours.

I had tumbled up to the end of my street, Whiteway, until I made a left turn, walking up the street near my school. I remember. When mom and dad brought me home the other day, they passed by the school. The station is this way. And then from there I will figure out my way back to be woods. Fear had not stricken up inside me yet, as determination was thralling inside more than anything. I have to get Noah back. I have to do it myself. This is the only way it will work. I can't tell the police about it. I can't tell anyone. This is up to me. Only me. And I will find him. I will find Noah, but how?
What do you mean how? You are going to find the bunker again, and break him out of there. That's it. You can do it. Right?
Wrong! You can't do this! What are you even doing right now? Mom and dad are going to kill you! Just turn yourself back around and walk back home. Tell the police about Noah and Michael, and let them do their job. That's the only way out of this. The only way you're getting Noah back. If you go through with this, you're going to end up getting yourself killed! Michael is going to lock you back up, and there will be no way out! No more escape plans! You are going to be trapped forever! So turn around now! Go back home where it's safe! Go back now!
No! Don't do it! You have to find him, alive! Rule #4! We escape together! And if you tell the cops about him, sure, they will find him, but dead! You are the only one who can do this Matthew! Only you!
My mind kept shouting at me, answering itself and all the sides barking in my head, as I flipped my hood up and shoved my hands deeper into my pocket, and began wandering up the street passed my old school.

The yellow bricks still the exact same matching colours like ten years ago, even the lightened school could be seen through the moonlight and shining off the clear windows. The parking lot empty as the bus loop, although the small garden directed in the front of the school, close to the sidewalk I was strolling on, a new tree and stone were planted which caught a hold of my eye instantly. What is that? My mind wandered off, as so did I from the trail. The garden used to be full of flowers and a few trees planted, something I remember well from one day years ago where each class planted a tree. The delicate and brittle baby trees were still growing strong, with wire wrapped around for no breakage. They stood five feet tall maybe, shorter than myself for sure. The colourful and dazzling bright flowers I once loved to look at were no long present in the dirt, for in the centre of that garden one stone had been placed in the centre of all the trees. One tree in particular, tinier than the rest stood tall behind the stone, words written over the smooth surface as I approached that garden closer. The engravement bouncing off from its surface, blinding the readers eyes with words of soft, spoken and a kind message. The stone, the tree, it was dedicated to me.

'When Someone You Love Becomes a Memory, That Memory Becomes a Treasure.'
-For Matthew Lucas

Reading the plaque in the dull light from lanterns and the moon above, I stared down at the stone with my hands still buried deep in my pockets. This certain dedication made me feel odd in a way, for I knew they had held this type of ceremony before, when they believed I was dead. When they followed in everyone's footsteps in this city, and believed my neighbour killed me. To them, I was dead. This little plaque almost represented a tombstone, however no body was lying underneath. Is there a tombstone in the cemetery for me? If there is, they should take that down now. I can't imagine my parents, especially my mom not wanting to have a funeral for me, even without a body. Knowing her I thought she would be all over that. Perhaps not.