Investigation Starts.

10 PM.

Ben and I lie side by side on the carpet. Apparently, the truck had driven to the wrong address so it’ll arrive tomorrow. We both couldn’t care less; none of us wanted our rooms to be near room 4 anyway. Not now though.

“I think they’re asleep,” Ben whispers to me, nudging me in the chest. I get up on my knees quietly and ask, “How can you be sure?”

As if on cue, dad snores his most horrendous snore and Ben flashes me a grin. I roll my eyes and try not to laugh. We both get on our feet quietly and creep over to the empty hallway and the face the empty space that room 4 was last night. My hair stands on end as I feel my goose bumps creep all over my arm.

Ben and I are standing right in front of the empty wall when suddenly the scariest thing happens.

We. Hear. A. KNOCK.

“Holy-!” Ben almost screams. I jump back and Ben and I stare at each other, blanching. We look at each other and back to the empty wall.

“Hello?” I whisper, half expecting an answer. Another knock can be heard and I can feel all the blood pouring out of me. I look at Ben and whisper, “It can answer.”

Ben looks very pale right now and I’m expecting him to faint any minute now but he doesn’t. Instead, he says: “I’ll be asking you questions, alright? Two knocks for yes, one knock for no. Alright?”

Two knocks.

“Right,” Ben glances at me and clears his throat. He looks back the empty wall and crouches down, facing it. I do the same.

“Were you murdered?” Ben asks. It takes a while until it knocks twice.

“Do you know why you were murdered?”

One knock.

“Do you forgive the person that murdered you?”

One knock.

“Damn, this spirit is angry,” Ben whispers into my ear.

“Are you the murderer’s daughter or wife? One knock for daughter, two knocks for wife.”

No knock comes out for quite a while. Ben and I begin to feel scared.

“Were you a friend of the murderer?”

One knock.

“Did you know him?”

Two knocks.

“How many of you are there?”

Suddenly, there a loads of things banging on the wall. It isn’t a knock anymore by now. The door to room 4 appears gradually and I run back to the living room. Ben stays in front of the wall as the door begins to show.

“Ben! Get back here!” I whisper-shout. The door opens and out comes a hand, reaching out for Ben. Ben doesn’t take it though.

“W-were you ever f-found?” He asks, beginning to stammer.  

“No,” says a grim voice.

“Just help us, please,” wails another voice.

“We will,” Ben looks back at me as he says this. I felt very reluctant but I feared that something was to happen if I protested. So I acquiesced in with a nod.

The voices fade and the hand is pulled back into the door. The door fades gradually and a pool of blood suddenly appears on the floor. Ben backs away and walks back to me, shuddering. I hug him and he hugs me back.

“We’ve got to interview Mr and Mrs Jones tomorrow morning,” he tells me as he pulls away. I nod.

…

Ben knocks on Mr and Mrs Jones’s door the next morning. Yet again, mom and dad went out for breakfast and we’re now definitely sure that they’ll be back late. In my hand I bring a notebook and a pen. I feel like a detective with Ben knocking on their door.

Finally, a woman answers the door. She’s most probably in her 40s, judging by her looks. She smiles at us and says, “You two must be the new neighbours.”

“Yeah, we’re the children of Mr and Mrs Knightley,” Ben says, glancing back at me. “Hi, I’m Ben Knightley, 18, and this is my younger sister, Grace Knightley, 15.”

“Mrs Jones, we’re here to discuss a very important matter with you,” I say seriously. The smile on Mrs Jones’s face drops and I’m worried that she might tell us to go away but, she doesn’t.

“Come in then,” she steps aside and makes way for us to come in. I trial behind Ben.

“Please sit,” she says once we’re inside. I sit next to Ben on a violet couch as Mrs Jones sits opposite us in an arm chair.

“Is Mr Jones here? We might need him too,” Ben asks. Mrs Jones shakes her head and says, “He left for work this morning.” Ben nods at this piece of information.

“What business do you two have here?” Mrs Jones asks, leaning forward with clasped hands. Ben does the same and I get ready with my notebook and pen. Mrs Jones glances at me and looks back at Ben.

“What were the names of the people that used to live in our apartment?” Ben asks. Mrs Jones’s face goes grim and my blood runs cold.

“Their family name was Town. Mr and Mrs Town,” Mrs Jones tells us. I write that down, The Towns.

“Did they seem like a happy family?” Ben asks, squinting his eyes. Mrs Jones frowns and says, “Well, yes. Yes they did.”

“Did anything happen to them?” Ben asks. Mrs Jones leans back into the arm chair and folds her arms. Ben doesn’t move from his current position.

“So you’ve heard,” She says, grimly. “Of the murder.”

Ben looks at me to Mrs Jones and nods, “Yes that would be right,” he says in a small voice. “Look, Mrs Jones. My sister and I have been experiencing some funny stuff since the first day we moved in.”

“In which was only 2 days ago.” Mrs Jones says.

“Exactly.”

“You saw the aftermath of the murder, did you not, Mrs Jones?” I ask this time, squinting my eyes. It takes a while for her to nod slowly and say rather in a whisper, “Yes.”

“Did you know the Towns well, Mrs Jones?” Ben asks. Mrs Jones nod.

“How was Mr Town like?”

“Cheating. He was cheating on his wife,” Mrs Jones says in a whisper. I raise my eyebrows and glance at Ben who somehow doesn’t look surprised at this piece of information.

“He always brought back foreign ladies in the middle of the night. I’d peek through the peep hole in the door,” Mrs Jones goes on. “But one thing for sure is that, I’ve never seen any of them come out after that.”

Ben and I look at each other with raised eyebrows. I write this piece of information down and look at Mrs Jones whose gaze is downcast.

“The Towns held a feast one day. It was Christmas, I believe,” Mrs Jones says, looking as if she’s recalling a vivid memory. “They invited my family over to their apartment. I have to say their apartment smelled… odd. Funny, I’d say.” She pauses for a minute as I write that down.

“We were eating at the table when I noticed that, something was pouring from beneath the wall. I walked over to the wall and saw that it was,” She pauses for a minute. “Blood.”

“Which wall was that, Mrs Jones?” I ask.

“The one between all the rooms in the mini hallway.”

I can feel Ben shuddering as he blanches. His hands are trembling but he goes on. “Did you do anything about it, Mrs Jones?”

“I informed Mrs Town,” Mrs Jones said. “And she told her husband and soon, my family was asked to leave their apartment. I never got to see what happened but, what I do know is that a few months after, Mr Town killed everyone in the apartment. The police never found the bodies so it’s been one heck of a mystery.”

“We know where they are,” Ben says in a whisper. He looks up at Mrs Jones and her face goes white. She looks at me as if looking for assurance so I nod.

“Free them then,” She whispers, taking Ben’s and my hand in hers.

“We can’t do it alone,” I whisper, putting my notebook and pen away with my free hand.

“Who says you’d be doing it alone?” She asks. “We’ll wait for my husband to come back. But first, you both obviously haven’t told your parents.”

Ben and I glance at each other and back to her. She nods understandingly.

“We start tonight. Make sure to tell them by then.”

To be continued in: Lost Bodies.

ROOM 4.

I’m shoved into this horrific glowing room that’s literally roaring right now. My heart palpitates and I feel all the blood draining out of me. I see a set of bloody red eyes staring at me. A dead hand pokes out ominously and does a gesture that meant it was inviting me in.

“BEN?” I scream, wanting him to wake up. I can’t control my body anymore. It’s shoving me and I can’t move. I try to turn back to see what’s shoving me but I can’t.

“BEN?!” I scream once more. The dead hand reaches out to me and I feel it’s old and cold skin, brushing against mine. It pulls me in and I feel as if my arm would detach any second now.

“BEN!” I scream as loud as possible. That’s when a miracle happens. I hear footsteps and an unmistakeably recognizable groggy voice call my name.

“Grace?” It’s Ben. His footsteps are closer but he has to act quickly to get me. I scream his name once more and he comes running towards me, hugging me by the waists and pulling me. The dead hand is now not alone. Another set of hands come out to help and that freaks me out even more. Then another, and another until soon I can see their ghostly bodies sticking out of the room. Their skin is peeling off and maggots are hanging on their skin.

“ROOM 4, ROOM 4, ROOM 4, ROOM 4…” They chant as they pull me even harder. Ben doesn’t give up. He tugs onto me and pulls me as hard as possible until I am free from their grasps. Ben and I drop onto the ground with me on top of him. The ghostly figures roar and the door closes with a loud slam. The door disappears in an instant as if it were never there.

Still on the floor, Ben and I give each other horrified looks. He’s pale and I feel guilty. “What the hell was that?” He says, his voice cracking with fear still. I feel my entire body trembling with horror as I look up to see where the door once was.

Still gone as if it were never there.

Ben gets on his knees and crawls to the empty space, trembling as he went. He moves his trembling hand around the empty wall, turning back at me, his face still pale. There’s something different about the way he’s looking at me, something that makes my hair stand on end. I just can’t put my finger on it.

“Grace?” A tired voice calls out. It’s… Ben? I get on my feet and what I see makes my heart almost stop completely.

Ben is there, lying on the carpet next to dad where he was when I left. He’s sitting there right now, rubbing his eyes. I feel my entire body losing all its blood.

“B-B-Ben?” I stammer, pointing at him. Ben’s still rubbing his eyes groggily but he answers me with an annoyed “Hmmmm?”

I tremble from head to toe. Daren’t I turn to my left to see who saved me a few minutes ago?

I dare.

I turn to my left and see a pool of blood at the end of the hallway.

No Room 4.

No Ben.

No nothing.

Just. A. Pool. Of.

Blood.

…

Next morning, I wake up in Ben’s arms. I scream at first and Ben wakes up and flinches and shouts at me.

“What the heck, Grace?” He shouts in annoyance. My breathing is unsteady and my heart is beating like a drum.

“I can feel your heart beating like you’ve just ran a marathon you know, why is that?” He asks, obviously worried. I wriggle out of his arms and sit up, only to see that we’re the only ones on the carpet.

“Where’s mom and dad?” I ask, my breathing still unsteady.

“They left for breakfast. They’ll be back with food,” Ben tells me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and asks, “What’s wrong? And why did you collapse on the ground last night in front of the hallway?”

My heart almost stops beating. I run to the hallway to see if there was still that pool of blood or the mysterious Room 4.

Nothing.

I turn back to Ben, my head trembling. He runs over to me and holds onto both of my shoulders. I crane my neck to look at him as he cranes his to look down at me. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” He asks, his voice almost in a whisper. We sit on the carpet and sit opposite each other as I tell him everything.

“It-It felt like a dream,” I say after I’d told him everything. He gives me this cold look and tells me, “It wasn’t a dream.”

“How do you know?” I ask. His face is cold and ominous. He lifts a trembling finger and points it to the curtains behind him. I gasp.

ROOM 4 is carved horrifically on it.

“How long has that been there?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“Didn’t you realize it, Grace?” Ben asks me in bewilderment, his voice quavering. He grabs my shoulders.

“It’s always been there,” He says. “Ever since we moved in last night.”

…

For the next few hours (despite Ben told me that mom and dad would be back soon), Ben and I surf the internet to find out the history about our apartment. Did anything bad happen? Was there bad history in this place?

Was someone murdered? How many?

“In 2000, a husband, who reported to be under the control of the devil himself, killed his wife and 5 daughters in room 3A that’s situated on level 4,” Ben reads out loud. A gust of wind flies through the open window and makes the curtains fly horrifically. Ben and I shudder. He gets up, closes the window and sits back next to me.

“How long has the window been open?” I ask in a whisper. Ben looks at me with a look that says, do you really want to know?

“Neighbour Mr and Mrs Jones, reported hearing cries and violent screaming. Mr Jones reported saying that he went to the killer’s front door and opening it as it wasn’t locked. He found out that there were only pools of blood but no bodies and the killer husband was crying on the floor with a bloody knife a few inches away from him.

“Mr Jones asked where the bodies were but the killer didn’t give an answer. Mr Jones did the right thing calling the police and ambulance. The killer is currently behind bars, serving a life sentence.” The story went on but I’d asked Ben to stop there. I sunk my forehead into his broad shoulders and he ruffles my hair.

“Grace, we have to know where they are.” Ben tells me. I turn to him and raise my eyebrows.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I say, walking over to the hallway. He trails behind me and we stand side by side, facing the empty wall.

“You don’t think-?” I nod. Ben shudders and blanches. He walks slowly to the empty wall and feels around it, looking for something. He gasps and turns to me.

“There’s a door knob behind the walls,” he tells me, his face at its palest. I walk over to him and put my hand on where his was. He’s right.

“Should we-?” Before I can finish my sentence, Ben is walking back into the living room, pacing back and forth with his hands on his head.

“Th-That would explain the funny smell, the torn curtains a-and everything!” Ben stammers, still pacing back and forth. Ben has always been able to control his natural stammer but this is definitely freaking him out.

I take his hands in mine and hug him. Mom always does that when he freaks out so that he’d calm down and speak normally. His breathing that was once ragged is now stable, calm. He hugs me back and sinks his head into my shoulder which is pretty impossible as I am very short compared to him.

“We have to do something, Grace.” Ben says, his head still dug in my shoulder. I pull away slowly and Ben sits on the carpet. I do to.

“Should we investigate?” I ask warily. Ben looks at me with determination to help those poor bodies that are trapped somewhere.

I sigh. On one hand I’d really hate to do this but on the other, I pitied those bodies. They were never found.

“Fine,” I say. He takes my hands in his.

“When do we start?”

To be continued in: Investigation Starts.

Chicago.

I sit in my living room on the cold wooden floor, facing the ceiling and looking around the inside of my house. This will definitely be the last time I’ll be here, sadly. Boxes are stacked at one side and the truck is already here. I sigh.

Time to get moving.

Mom and Dad help bring the boxes into the moving truck and bags into our car and the truck. Everything about this hurts. I never wanted to move. Nor did my parents.

My father had a job offering in Chicago. The company he was currently working for sucked so he thought, why not? But of course, a part of me thought that my parents didn’t care about the environmental changes I had to go through. My older brother, Ben, of course, didn’t care a bit. Probably because he was in his ‘emo-poet’ phase.

Ben is already in the car, headphones on and looking outside the window, away from me, my parents and everyone else. The sky is cloudy and grey and looks as if it’ll be raining soon. I can’t help but feel as if the sky’s giving a dramatic effect on all of this.

“You ready, kiddo?” I hear my dad says as he puts an arm around my shoulder. I glance up at him and give him a plastic smile. “Yeah,” I whisper, walking away from him and getting into the car with Ben. He has a bag of chips beside him. He glances at me and pushes the bag of chips towards me as an offering. I push them back and he nods.

“Bad day?” He asks, taking off his headphones and for the first time in a few weeks, he actually looks like his old handsome self. Thick brown hair covering his emerald green eyes that make his skin look attractively pale.

“Kinda.” I answer, taking the chips this time. He grins and offers me his phone and headphones. Despite the fact that he changes phases almost every month, we’ll always have something in common which is our love for music. I smile and take his phone and headphones from him. I don’t use them yet though.

“How do you feel about moving?” I ask him. We’re still alone in the car so whatever we say now wouldn’t be heard my mom or dad.

“Like it’s the stupidest decision mom and dad have ever made,” Ben says without thinking. He takes a handful of chips and stuffs them into his mouth, looking out the window again.

“Why do you think so?” I ask, despite the fact that I too felt the same way.

Ben looks at me in this surprised way. By now, he’s dropping the emo phase but I don’t know about the poetic phase.

“Firstly, dad’s just going to be working for the same company that’ll give him the same amount of payment every month and will most probably be treated like trash. Secondly, have you seen the house? Or should I say apartment? It’s a 3 room apartment with a very small living room that’d be better off as a playground for our hamsters. Thirdly, have you seen our new school? From the looks of it, it seems like juvy!” Ben pours his heart out. We’ve always done this since I had problems to talk about. The first time I told Ben I wanted to talk to him about my problems, I remember him wiping an invisible tear from his eye and saying, ‘Ah, my little Grace is finally ready to talk to me about her hormonal problems.’

That, of course, was when he was in his dramatic phase. Since then, we’d always hang out in his room after midnight, lying on his carpet side by side and talk to each other about our problems.

“Is that over dramatization or just really how our new life is going to be like?” I ask warily. Ben takes a handful of chips, shakes his head at me and looks out the window.

“What do I gain from lying to you, Grace Knightley?” Ben says under his breath, loud enough for me to hear. I nod and understand what he means behind this. I put on the headphones and play my playlist of songs on Spotify. Letting the music carry my worries away.

Mom and dad climb into the car and glance back at me and Ben. We’re both looking out the window. Mom and dad look away and to each other. Dad starts the car.

“Are we making the right choice?” I hear mom say. Great, now you want to discuss about that?

“Natalie, humans never make the perfect and right choices,” Dad tells her. The engine purrs and soon, we’re moving.

…

We arrive at our new house at night and the streets look very eerie. Ben wakes me up and apparently, I’ve been listening to my offline Spotify playlist on repeat for 5 times now and Ben was nice enough not to take his phone and headphones away from me.

“Thanks, Ben.” I say, giving him the first hug I’ve given him in a few weeks. He hugs me back, surprisingly and pulls away.

“I wanted to take them away from you but you were listening to She Will be Loved by Maroon 5 and I thought, ‘that’s a song she deserves to listen.’” Ben tells me. I half smile and Ben taps my shoulder, pointing to a building behind me. Mom and dad climb out of the car, followed by me and Ben.

“You’re right,” I say, my gaze at the worn out looking building. I glance at Ben and he’s snapping a picture. I look at what he’s doing over his shoulder and he’s sending the picture to a friend. Usually he’d shake me off and tell me to mind my own business but lately (since I got into the car), he’s been… nicer? I think?

Welcome to ghost town, Ben types swiftly. He’s always been a fast typer. He’s sending it to Ezra Bale, a friend of his. I know Ezra. He’s the exact opposite of Ben. He has a fix character while Ben’s is all messy, uncertain, mysterious; intriguing. Nevertheless, they get along well.

The three dots appear as a sign that Ezra’s typing. I wish you luck, Lieutenant Knightley, Ezra answers.

Yeah, no kidding, Ben replies. He stuffs his phone in the pocket of his black leather jacket.

The building in front of us looks old, creepy and eerie. The bright cream paint has begun to peel off and the building smells funny once you get closer. Mom and dad begin to ascend the steps and open the door with a key. I turn back, expecting the truck to be behind our car but it wasn’t.

“Where’s the truck?” I ask.

“It’ll be here tomorrow morning,” Dad answers. He’s already a few steps in the building with Ben trailing behind him. Ben lets out a hand for me to take. I take it and we walk in together.

Our apartment is on level 4 (I counted) and boy was it a climb. The stairs were creaky and covered in a soggy red carpet.

Dad unlocks the door to our apartment and once it’s opened, a whiff of something funny hits my nose and I cough. Ben scrunches his face and coughs as well, fanning his nose.

“Jeez, dad what is that?!” Ben asks loudly. The cries of a baby start to erupt from the opposite room. Perhaps it was woken up by Ben’s yelling.

“You’ll get used to it,” Mom says, walking into the apartment behind dad. Ben walks behind me and soon, dad turns the lights on. It’s dim but enough to light up the place and for me and Ben to judge it.

“The place smells funny.” Ben whispers to me

“I know.”

“The curtains are torn,” I whisper, pointing to the curtains that were meant to cover the window. Somehow, it didn’t look like an animal scratched it but it looked like… something else had.

“I know.”

The series of judging whispers keep on going between us as Mom and Dad walk around the place. The place is ultimately ugly, and I know it sounds mean and arrogant but it’s true.

We spend our first night in the living room with a carpet beneath us. We all huddle up together as the night was a very mean and cold one. Ben and I sleep next to each other, his arm pillowing my head.

I’m the only person awake, I’m sure of it. I hear mom’s soft and controlled breathing, dad’s soft snores and Ben is obviously sleeping. I lie awake, thinking about my future here in Chicago.

That’s when I hear it. Scratching.

I jump and Ben almost awakens but he doesn’t. My heart beats like a drum and I try to convince myself that it was just in my head. That’s when I hear it again. It’s closer this time. And louder.

I close my eyes and when I open them again, the curtains have been scratched, and there are words carved on it.

ROOM 4.

Weren’t there only 3 rooms? I ask myself. I get up and walk until I’m in a mini-hallway in the apartment that has 3 doors along it. That’s when I see it.

A glowing door, standing at the end of the hallway. My hair stands on end. Do I walk to it?

Something pushes me.

I’m shoved into it.

The door opens with a creak.

There’s something there.

To be continued in: ROOM 4.

Epilogue

2 years later.

I’m on the beach, hands pillowing my head as the rhythmic sound of the waves drown out my thoughts. I look at the stars and remember Wren.

If a star fell for every time I thought of you, the sky would be empty.

Imogen and Wren’s mother organised his funeral 2 days after the police came to Imogen’s house. They found Wren in the same clothes I’d found him skating in the other day. He was bloated and blue. The sight was heart breaking and Imogen collapsed onto the ground crying. I stood next to her, crying quietly.

Since Wren’s funeral, a lot of things happened. Luke and I cancelled our wedding and Imogen lived a single life (up until now, surprisingly).

I’ve been coming here for the past year, on the 17^th of September. Wren will always be with me, a part of me.

I can feel my eyes watering and I wipe them away before they fall onto my cheek. I smile. Wren will always be a part of the sea. With the rhythmic waves and the calming sea.

And always, always, one with the stars.

-End.

Clues.

I rush to Wren’s house right after Naomi hangs up on me. I scrape at the door until a hidden key falls out and I used it to get into his house. His house looked fine as if nothing had happened. Everything organized and in place, just like how he is.

I rush to his room and look on his study table. There are stacks of books and novels but only one book catches my eye. It’s a purple covered book with a lock that requires coordinates. I curse under my breath and wreck my brain, thinking of what the coordinated might be.

I try his birthday (June 9^th), the first four numbers of his phone number and the year of his graduation. None of them worked and by now I was yelling in anger at his diary as if it were him.

“Wren?! Do you know how much mess you’re putting me through? Imogen through? Do you know how much I’m worried about you? How worried Imogen is? Do you know how much I love you? I know you love me too so goddamn it Wren, tell me what the coordinates are!” I slam the diary on the table and that’s when it hits me.

31 Dec, 2010.

I grab the diary and enter the code. 3112.

It opens.

I flip through the pages, skimming everything I pass by, looking for clues as to where he might be. Most of his diary entries are about Imogen and him and the more pages I look through, the more jealousy eats me up. I remind myself that I’m doing this for Imogen as she’s worried sick about her fiancé.

Finally, I come to the last diary entry of his that writes ‘September 17^th, 2014’. I read this page carefully, reading the words one by one in fear of missing any important details.

September 17^th, 2014.

Naomi and I went to the beach a few hours ago (its night right now). You can’t believe how much I fell in love with her again. We quoted our past sentences and star gazed together on the beach, listening to the rhythmic sound of waves gracefully washing up on the shore and going back into the sea.

If only I’d told her what I felt. If only I’d confess bravely and confidently. Maybe, just maybe, we’d be together. But no, I was too much of a coward, embarrassing.

I’ve always loved Naomi. I don’t know why I went to Imogen, honestly. The lock on this diary proves how much I love her.

This might be my last entry, diary. I’ll be forever star gazing at the beach, being one with the rhythmic waves.

-Wren McCarty.

I gasp, my voice quavering. A tear rolls down my cheek and I’m heartbroken. I knew exactly what the last sentence meant.

I’ll be forever star gazing at the beach, being one with the rhythmic waves.

I drop the diary without locking it and run out of the house, remembering to lock the door behind me. I drive speedily to Imogen’s house, thinking of how to break the news to her. My heart aches and I’m crying throughout the drive, telling myself that I’d been stupid, that I should’ve just told Wren.

Once I got to Imogen’s house, I pounded on the door and Imogen opens it right away. She takes one look at my face and asks in a shivering tone, “You know where he is?”

A tear rolls down my cheek without my control. She gasps and I whisper, “He’s gone. It’s my fault. I-I’m sorry.”

Imogen sobs violently and I take her into my arms, letting her sob her heart out. It isn’t long before a few cars show up at her house. A man comes out from one of the cars and says, “Imogen Winslet?”

Imogen stands in front of him with puffy eyes and says, “Yes?”

But we didn’t need to ask what he was here for.

Imogen collapses to the ground in front of the man without a word, crying once more.

To be continued in: Epilogue.

The First Time in Years

“I can’t do this,” I say to Violet over the phone. She grunts and says, “You’re already dressed up and ready to go so what the heck is stopping you from going now?”

I pace back and forth in my living room with my car and house keys in my hand. “I don’t know!” I say loudly.

“That’s up to you to decide, Naomi,” She says flatly with a sigh. “Violet out.” And with that, she hangs up and leaves me pacing back and forth in my living room. I glance at my watch and see that it’s 10 minutes to 7. Should I?

My phone vibrates in my hand. I look at it and see that it’s a text from Wren.

“You comin’?” It says. I bite my lower lip.

“I’m on my way.”

…

I arrive at the skating rink at five past seven. I scan the row of empty seats for Wren. I see him sitting on one of the seats, crouching. He looks up abruptly and sees me. He waves his hand and smiles warmly, making myself feel calmer than I was a while ago.

“Hey,” He says once I’m in earshot. I lift my hand briefly and sit next to him, crouching in the exact position he’s in. He glances at me and smiles.

“We’re going to be talking here?” I ask, my voice making echoes in the quiet skating rink. Wren looks around the skating rink and back to me, saying, “Nope.”

I turn to him and raise an eyebrow. “No?”

“Definitely not,” He says, turning to me with his golden hair covering his eyes. He flips it back and suddenly takes my hand in his, pulling me to stand up. He walks away, his hand still holding mine.

“Where are we going?” I ask. He glances back at me and says, “It’s a secret.”

…

We get into Wren’s car and he drives as soon as I buckle up. “Where are we going?” I ask again but he doesn’t answer me this time. He keeps his eyes on the road and his hands gripped onto the steering wheel. I decide to look out the window instead, to get hints of where we’re going.

“Naomi, I like you.” He says abruptly, repeating what he said 3 years ago back at the hill top. I decide to play along and gave him the same wide-eyed-face I’d given him back then. He realizes that I’m playing along. He laughs and says, “Don’t look at me that way.”

“What’s your point?” I feel like I’m reading a movie script. He glances at me for a second and puts on his thinking face, the same one he gave me years ago.

“I want to marry you, Naomi.” He says abruptly. I glance at him, raise an eyebrow and say, “Well too late for that, don’t you think?”

For a while, there was momentary silence between us and I suddenly regret saying what I’d said. I glance at him and his face looks dull; like something in him is broken.

“I’m sorry.” I say in a whisper. I can feel that he’s glancing at me. I look at him and see the corner of his lips curling gradually into a smile.

“You know what?” He asks, glancing at me. “We don’t have to get married. Let’s just talk.”

“Where?” I ask. He points outside my window and I look. We’re driving near the coast. I look back at him and grin. “Ooo… Smooth, Wren. Smooth.” He tilts his head back and laughs his ridiculously cute laugh.

He parks somewhere on the beach and we get out, staring at the starry sky. I walk near the sea and sit somewhere I can smell the sea’s salty smell. Wren sits next to me and I put my head on his shoulder.

“You didn’t tell us your new year resolution for 2011, Wren McCarty,” I say in a whisper. I grin and I look at Wren to see that he’s smiling, too. He sighs and fixes his gaze to the waves that just keep on coming.

“I had many new year resolutions for 2011, Naomi Turner.” He says. “Unfortunately, one of them didn’t come true.”

I sit up straight and put my hand between us. “And what is that?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he rests his hand on mine, staring blankly into the starry night sky. I decide to do the same. He suddenly lies down on the sand, his feet facing the waves. I lie down next to him, my hands pillowing my head. We lie down next to each other, quietly.

“If a star fell for every time I thought of you,” Wren says abruptly. “The sky would be empty.”

“That’s so cheesy.” I say with a laugh. Wren laughs together with me. I ask, “How much do you love me?”

“Count the number of stars in the sky. That’s how much I love you.”

“Wouldn’t the sky be empty by then?”

Wren laughs and I laugh together with him. “You just had to ruin the moment,” He says in between his laughter.

After that, we’re silent yet again. But it wasn’t awkward silence. More of okay, this is the perfect time to be silent silence.  

“Do you love Luke?” Wren asks me abruptly. I ask myself the same question. Do I? Have I ever loved him? Was he just the guy I dated to make myself forget all about Wren?

“Do you love Imogen?” I ask instead. He’s quiet and I yet again, regret asking that question.

He doesn’t answer for the rest of the night, and I accept that. We drown in our own thoughts, our hands intertwined still, listening to the sound of the waves.

…

“Alright people let’s get skating!” I say to my students. Skylar comes up to me and says, “Miss Turner? Where’s Mr McCarty?”

I stand in front of her quietly, not knowing what to say. Audrey comes skating towards me and says, “Yeah. Where is he?” Apparently she too had heard Skylar’s question.

Wren hadn’t come for skating lessons since the day we went to the beach together which was like, 3 weeks ago. I hadn’t seen him outside of classes, too. Skylar’s question worried me. I crouched down, stroked her hair and answered, “I don’t know, love. He’s probably home sick.”

“For 3 weeks?” Audrey mentions. I shot her a look and she goes skating away.

“When will he be back?” Skylar asks me. I look into her blue piercing eyes and answer, “I don’t know.”

After class, the first thing I did was call Imogen. She has to know about Wren’s whereabouts. I dial her number and press call. She answers straight away.

“Naomi? Oh thank god. Have you seen Wren?”

I’m taken aback when she asks me this. “N-No, Imogen. I haven’t. In fact, that’s why I called you. Wren’s supposed to be helping me out with skating class but he hasn’t been attending them for 3 weeks.”

“Oh jeez. That’s how long he’s been missing!”

“Missing?”

“His mom called me last week, saying that Wren didn’t come home after going out one night.” My blood runs cold when she says this. I bite my fingernail.

“What can I do to help?” I ask, my voice quavering. Imogen tells me that I can go to Wren’s house and check if he’d left anything that could be a clue about his whereabouts.

“…Thanks, Naomi.” And with that, she hangs up. I put the phone into the pocket of my jeans and stand there in the skating rink, feeling empty.

Where could he be?

To be continued in: Clues.