Pain

A Shocking Discovery

Logan

We are sitting in my room and going through the results of our current research when it suddenly rings at the front door. "I'll be right back," I say to Camille, and walk down the stairs. I open the door and see Kelly Wainwright standing in front of me. Kelly is our neighbor. A young, black, and very nice woman.

"Hi, Kelly."

"Hello, Logan. I hope I don't bother you."

I shake my head. "No, it's okay. What's up?"

She smiles slightly. "I come on behalf of your sister."

"What?"

"Kiara told me that you are home alone until late in the evening. And knowing that otherwise you're only going to eat pizza or sandwiches, she asked me to make sure you get something good to eat. Here." She hands me a bowl covered with aluminum foil.

"Thank you, but that really wouldn't have been necessary."

She waved off. "Don't be silly. It was my pleasure. Besides, I wanted to talk to you anyway. Can I come in for a moment?"

Knowing that I have no choice, I let her in. We go to the kitchen. After I stowed the food in the fridge and offered her something to drink, she asks, "Your father is working a lot lately, isn't he?"

I nod and shrug to show her that I don't really care. She understands and changes the subject, "Who is this girl who has been here so many times lately? At first I thought it was a friend of Kiara's, but the girl seemed to be older."

"That's Camille Roberts. We work together on a project for school."

"Is she a friend of yours?"

I shrug because I really don't know how to answer that. We get along quite well now, but I don't know if I can actually call her a "friend".

Camille

Logan has been away for over ten minutes now. I can hear him talking to someone downstairs. Suddenly, I get an idea ... a bad idea. My conversation with Jo comes to my mind again. I don't think I'll get a better opportunity. I walk over to his desk. I know it's wrong, but I just can't help it. I open the first two drawers, but I don't find anything interesting in it. In the third drawer is only a black shoebox. Without thinking about it, I open the box. At first it looks like it's empty, but in one corner I'm discovering a photo. I take it out, sit down on Logan's bed and look at it curiously. At the front of the picture are two laughing children, a boy and a girl. I need a moment to understand that this must be Logan and Kiara. Behind Logan stands a woman who has put an arm around him and looks cheerfully into the camera. Could that be his mother? If so, what happened to her? My focus is now on the man behind Kiara ... I'm confused. I expected it to be Logan and Kiara's father, the man I met, but the man in the picture is someone completely different. He is tall, has dark hair, and a friendly and sympathetic smile. That smile ... It hasn't happened often that I've seen Logan smile, but ... I could swear it's the same smile. In general, the similarity between the man in the picture and Logan is very astonishing. I don't understand it. That makes no sense. Thoughtfully, I turn the photo and see that something is written on the back. I recognize Logan's handwriting:

Mom & Dad

Rest in Peace

I read the words again. Rest in Peace ... Mom ... and Dad? But ... If that's really Logan and Kiara's father, who's the man who lives with them in this house? Who is the man they both call "Dad"? And what happened to their parents? So many thoughts race through my head ... and then I hear Logan's voice ...

Logan

"Sorry, that was our neighbor. She's ... What are you doing?"

She sits on my bed and holds something in her hand ... a photo ... Immediately, I look over to my desk. The third drawer is open. The shoebox ... No, no, no! She looks at me in horror and gets up. "I'm sorry, Logan. I-"

I close my eyes for a moment. I know what I have to do now. I don't want to do it. No, damn it, I really don't want to do it. But I have no choice. I quickly approach her and grab her firmly by the arm. "Listen to me! Don't tell anyone! Never! If you do, you will regret it!"

"Are you threatening me?" Her voice trembles slightly when she asks this question. Oh, if she only knew ...

"No, that's not a threat. It's a warning. And now go."

"Logan ... If there is anything you want to talk about, then I'm there for you."

I shake my head. "There's nothing I want to talk about. Go."

She takes her bag and walks past me to the door. There she stops and looks at me. But there is no fear or anger in her face, but ... disappointment. Then she shakes her head and leaves.