Running to the fireplace, I fall to the ground clutching one of the broken pictures. It’s a photograph of Ben and me at graduation. The frame is broken, but the photo is still intact. As I stare at the face of the man I once loved for so long, my eyes shift to the other items collapsed around the fireplace.
I assess the damage to my most cherished memories, and I realize they are all broken. My Purple Rain tickets mounted next to my father’s smiling face are ripped, but my dad’s big brown eyes seem to be looking back at me, trying to provide comfort. The picture of my parents and myself outside The Greek, proudly displaying our newly purchased concert wears, lays shattered on top of another photo. This snapshot is torn in half. It is of my aunt and uncle holding me as the priest baptizes me, branding them as my godparents. My aunt’s mother, Grammy, is standing next to them wearing her bounty of pearls.
River lightly places his calming hand on my shoulder as he bends to kneel beside me. “Be careful. There’s glass everywhere.”
Nodding my head, tears are steadily trickling down my face. “Who would do this?”
“I don’t know,” he says in a tone as grim as I feel.
Taking the broken frame from my hand, his eyes narrow as he stares at the picture for a long while. I feel like recognition flashes across his face, maybe even pain as he says, “Is this him?”
Turning to face River, I hoarsely answer. “Yes. That’s Ben.” I’ve noticed, that just like Aerie, he never actually says Ben’s name but for a completely different reason.
Setting the picture down carefully, he stands up and holds out his hand. “Come on, let’s see if anything is missing and call the police. Whoever was here is gone now.”
Clutching his fingers tightly, I feel every muscle in my body tense as I force oxygen back into my lungs to stop from hyperventilating.
He points to the small vestibule in the back of the room that leads through the old butlers pantry to the kitchen. “That way?”
Inhaling deeply, I nod my chin. “No, follow me.”
Heading back to the foyer, we start down the short hallway that leads to my bedroom and Ben’s office. He pushes in front of me and I keep my eyes straight-ahead, scanning all the while for possible intruders that I know are gone. The house is too quiet for anyone to be in here. It is the same quiet I experienced hour after hour, day after day, for far too long.
A crunching beneath my feet makes me jump as we almost reach my bedroom. We both stop instantly. He turns around and we look down at my black converse sneakers as I lift my foot. Underneath it lays a crumpled up piece of paper. I recognize the golden gilded edge of the paper immediately. It is a page from one of Ben’s many journals.
Bending down, I carefully pick up the waded piece of parchment, caressing the satiny edge and holding it tightly. I try to keep my tears at bay and fail miserably as tears of sadness and sorrow bleed down my cheeks. My heart breaks as I glance into the office. Ben’s most cherished journals cover the knotted pine floor along with pieces of his laptop and various books torn at the bindings. Many more, once pristine, journal pages lay ripped, torn, and balled up everywhere. His beautifully scripted handwriting is still visible through the vile mess.
Covering my mouth with my hand, “No, not his journals,” escapes my mouth as I completely fall apart. Who would do this? Why?
River holds me tightly as we stand between my room and the office. “It’ll be okay. I’ll fix this for you. Come on, let’s go back outside,” he whispers.