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October 16th, 1983
Snowflakes decorated the ground beneath me and frozen grass crunched under my steps. "Where are we going?" my small voice ripped through the uneasy silence. I was never one to tolerate quietness and the spontaneous trip my father had decided to take me on sparked my curiosity.
"Quiet now, Amber." my father shot a stern look downwards at me and I obeyed, bowing my head in return. We had been walking for long now and my fingers began to lose feeling. I looked back up, feeling the cold breeze whip across my cheeks and saw it.
A small white mailbox.
Hmm, I wondered where we were going even more now.
"Joshua," my father yelled to open air and wind returned his call. Suddenly, a house appeared in front of us and I stared up at it in absolute awe.
Nothing was special about it. It looked like an average house and the blinds were raised in different directions. Toys suddenly became scattered onto the lawn and there's silence.
Who was Joshua....
Why are the kids so quiet here?
The front door opened to reveal a man, who seemed to be very quiet as well. The silence was almost just too loud. I had found myself crunching the snow with my boots in an attempt to distract myself.
"Reid, It's a pleasure you could come..." the older man broke the silence, finally. He glanced towards me with a smile that didn't really meet his eyes. I did nothing in return. Instead, I looked away and gripped my father's hand even tighter. Once again, shuffling my boots against the snow-frozen soil.
"Where's the boy, Joshua?" my father quickly rushed to the reason why we stood before the older man.
"Malachai is in his room..." he trailed off, seemingly upset by the thought of the boy. As if on cue, one of the blinds amongst the windows shifted slightly and I studied the darker details of the window.
A young boy stared right back at me with distaste.
I waved in a childish attempt to make a good impression, but he let the blind find its way back to its original position.
Joshua turned to lead us into the house and I made note of every small detail I encountered. It was very pretty on the inside and children were playing along with each other in the living room. I wanted to see them and join "tag," but my father's grip reminded me of my place.
Why wasn't the boy playing with them too?
Soon, we were walking up a set of stairs that moaned in response to being used over the years. Tracing the walls of the stairway, I saw family pictures and I searched for the boy to put a clearer face to him. But I didn't find him in any of them, besides the one all the way at the end of the stairs. It was a Christmas photo, but he was covered mostly by a young girls shoulder.
