Page 35 of Where He Ended

Dominic's frown shifts ever deeper. He closes the program, showing off the white desktop again. I rub my eyes, the brightness giving me a headache. It would have been nice if he had a screen as pretty as my father's. The green leaves of the trees were comforting on both my eyesight and my mood.

I freeze with my arm over my face. It drops into my lap. “Of course,” I say, almost talking to myself. “That's why this feels all wrong. Dominic!” I say his name louder than I have to, he's right beside me, but I'm burning with excitement. “We aren't going to find any clues here. My father wouldn't waste his time with that, he wouldn't ever expect me to come here.”

Dominic recoils, ready to argue. “But there's still—”

“No, listen.” Gripping the desk, I jump to my feet. “He wouldn't leave anything here because this place was never meant for me.”It wasn't meant for my family at all.“If there's a trail to follow, it'll be in one place and one place only.”

His eyebrows furrow together. They relax as he understands.

“That's right,” I whisper, smiling wide. “At the cabin.”

At my home.

****

DOMINIC IS ON THE PHONEwith his parents. I can see him every time he passes by the doorway, pacing the hall. While he does that I sit on my parent's couch, unable to relax. Eventually I get up and begin to wander around. I run my fingers over a bookshelf, then across the wall as I make my way to the first bedroom.

It's my brother's. I see lots of toys and the bed sheets are covered in racecars. He has a small TV and on his desk. There's also an open notebook covered in math problems. Schoolwork? Was Dean allowed to attend school while my sister and I were kept trapped?

It seems impossible. But after some more exploring, I get an uncomfortably ominous impression that Dean didn't realize he was being held here against my family's will.

The thing that kicks me in the gut the hardest, though, is when I realize what's missing from this entire apartment.

I can't find any photos of Kara or me.

My parents had tons of them, my mother loved to snap Polaroid pictures of us. Even if there aren't any new photos, surely they are old ones. I search, growing desperate. I've emptied the drawers, gone back out to the main room and checked the fridge, the bookshelf.

The reality sinks in like an iceberg in my veins.

I've been erased from my brother’s life.

This is why he was allowed to go to school and have a somewhat normal life, while I wasn't. He didn't know about Kara or me, so he wouldn't make some off comment about his sisters being kept captive somewhere. He was only six. He probably didn't know his family wasn't allowed to leave the Complex without an escort.

I sit on his bed and run my fingers over the furry ears of a stuffed dog. I walked back into a life that I don't belong in anymore.

I stand up quickly, leaving the room because I can't handle being in there. I'm about to go back to the couch when I glance at my parents’ bedroom to my right. It's dark in there. After what I just went through in Dean's room, the idea of repeating it is discouraging. But I'm too curious to walk away.

I press the door open and walk inside. There's a large window covered in vertical blinds, the sunlight flickering through the gaps, keeping the room easy to navigate. The bed is made. Everything looks clean and perfect and precise, like the rest of the apartment.

On the nightstand are a novel and a blinking alarm clock. I scoop up the novel and read the title.Dracula?It's heavy in my hand. I pass it back and forth in my palms. Which one of them was reading this in the middle of the night? Did they think about escaping, or was diving into fiction good enough?

I fan the pages and as I do, I see something stuck between them. I open the book wide; there's a square slip of thick paper. My fingers shake as I pick it up, squinting at the photograph.

It's a picture of Kara and me.

We're holding each other, laughing in the sun. I'm probably no older than five in it. Kara is standing over me as I try to knock her down in the grass. It's a moment from the past. The two of us filled with joy, unaware of what's to come in our future.

Gently I close the book, yet I slip the photograph into my back pocket. I'm not a fan of stealing, but this photo belongs more to me than the people who will never return to this apartment.

Walking back into the living room, I sit down just as Dominic walks through the door. “All right,” he says, sticking his phone in his pocket. “It took a little bit of convincing, but my father has said we're free to make the trip to your old home.”

“He was really okay with me and you going so far away?” I ask dubiously.

Dominic looks me in the eye, his tone blunt. “He knows you won't attempt to escape as long as Kara is in their grasp.”

He's right. I could never run away and leave her behind. I still don't know how my father could muster the selfishness to do it. “Do we need to bring anything with us? How long of a drive is it?” It's been years. My memory of the distance is blurred by the helicopter trip. Sometimes I remember it taking only a few minutes, other times, when I think back, it's like I was in the helicopter for days.

“It's possible for us to make it there in one go, but I'm not sure I'm willing to push myself driving eight hours straight. We'll leave now, spend the night in a hotel that's about halfway between.”

I have so many things running around in my head and it's hard to focus on any one of them. I'm nervous, especially considering the idea of sleeping in a hotel with Dominic. I've never done anything like that, and I know that hotel rooms are small and intimate.

I'm also glowing with anticipation because it's really happening.

I'm finally going home.

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