Chapter 36 Elliot Jacobs
thirty-six
Elliot Jacobs
Digging
The line goes dead. No warning. No last word.
No attitude to go with it. Just silence.
I stare at my phone, waiting for it to glitch back to life like it made a mistake.
It doesn’t. “Yeah, that’s not weird at all,” I mutter, but it is.
Grayson doesn’t do abrupt. Kade doesn’t do quiet, and Rowyn…
it sounded like she was breaking. I push off the counter, pacing through the kitchen.
I’m all alone. Dad and Holden went shopping for tomorrow’s dinner and Kade disappeared a few minutes ago.
They asked me if I wanted to go but I declined the offer.
Truth is I didn’t feel like hanging out with them pretending everything is normal when it hasn’t been in years.
My phone buzzes and I narrow my eyes. Unknown number.
I open the text but there’s no words, just a picture, and my heart drops.
Its me, Kade, and Grayson as kids, maybe six or seven, covered in dirt and grinning like we hadn’t learned how ugly the world could get yet.
For a second, something almost soft hits my chest. Then it twists, because I don’t remember this.
Not even a little bit. And I remember everything from back then.
After our moms died… memories are all we had left, which means I should know this.
But again, I don’t. My thumb drags across the screen, zooming in, and that’s when I see it.
A little girl with dark hair in pink pigtails sitting behind us in the grass like she belonged there next to us.
My stomach drops. “What the fuck?” I say out loud, my voice rough and echoing through the big space.
We don’t have siblings. Not together. Not separately.
It was and has always been just us. Three boys.
Two dead mothers and Cynthia being passed around from father to father.
She is who raised us. She is who I remember the most besides our mothers.
I’m not sure when our fathers fell into each other, like it was survival—a necessity—as if they were needing to hold on to something or they’d both disappear.
Built a life that almost looks normal on the outside, but if anyone would take a moment and just peek their head in and open their eyes, they would see how fucked up things are.
But this. This picture isn’t part of that life.
This doesn’t fit anywhere. I zoom in further looking for any more clues as my jaw tightens, but the girl’s face is shadowed, blurred like the picture itself doesn’t want me to see it clearly.
Or maybe—it was never meant to be seen again.
Another message comes through. This time, there’s words.
“You forgot.” My chest tightens and I shake my head.
I’m so fucking confused. I don’t forget it.
Everything is stored in my brain like a photo to use later.
Forgetting isn’t how I work. Especially not with things that matter.
Not with things that hurt. Those stay. They burn and embed into the tissues of my brain.
Permanent. So if I don’t remember this—then something is wrong.
Not with my memory but with what happened. My fingers fly across the screen.
Me:
Who is this?
The bubbles pop up instantly, almost too fast. I look around the room then look down at my phone and the bubbles are gone.
I look at the picture again, taking a screen shot, because seconds later the entire message is gone.
Disappears as if it was never there to begin with.
What the fuck? Scrolling out of the thread.
I open my photos, then leave the kitchen.
I walk up the stairs to my room, shutting the door behind me.
I plop on my bed and study the photo. Really look at it this time.
I look past us. Past the little girl into the background.
There’s a structure there. Faded red. Wood.
Maybe a barn. Something about it claws at the edge of my memory.
My grip tightens around my phone. This is something I should know, but suddenly, it’s not just the picture that feels wrong, it’s everything around it.
Grayson hanging up on me. Rowyn spiraling.
Kade leaving, and now this. Dropped into my lap like a piece of a puzzle I didn’t know I was missing.
I take a deep breath, get up from my bed, grab my keys, then pause looking at the picture one last time, zeroing in on the little girl, and for a split second a thought slips through—what if we didn’t forget?
What if—we were made to? The house creaks and I freeze, then it does it again, only louder this time.
I swing open my door but no one is there.
What the fuck is happening? I leave my room, and as I get halfway down the stairs, the front door opens and I hear voices.
My dad’s low, familiar, tired voice. Holden is right behind him complaining about forgetting the cranberry sauce.
I stop at the last step and take a breath, the photo on my phone in my pocket burning a hole right through it like it's on literal fire.
His keys hit the counter, bags begin to rustle, and then he calls out for me.
“Eli? You still here?” he shouts, but I don’t answer.
I walk off the bottom step slowly and into the kitchen.
They both stop and look at me. My father’s brow raises, and Holden’s brow shifts as if they can read on my face that something is very wrong.
“Eli? What’s wrong?” he asks, and I take out my phone, unlock the screen, and hold the phone between us, showing him the photo.
“Explain this!” I growl, and my father takes it from my hand as Holden leans in, and for a second, there’s a flicker of something in their expression… recognition? But then it’s gone in a blink. I saw it though. I always fucking see it.
“What am I looking at?” Holden asks, almost too smooth, and I laugh.
“Don’t,” is all I say. My voice comes out low and sharp. My father glances at me almost cautiously.
“Elliot–” But I interrupt him.
“That’s me, Kade, and Grayson, but who is the little girl?” I snap, and both of their eyes shoot towards me. “The little girl I don’t remember existing.” Silence stretches. No one says a fucking thing. Then Holden straightens his stance and rolls his eyes.
“It’s probably just—”
“Stop! Lying!” I shout the words, coming out harsher than I meant for them to but it’s too late now to take it back.
“Elliot!” my father scolds, but I shake my head.
“No, you don’t get to do that right now,” I say, stepping closer to them.
“You both just looked at that picture like you’ve seen it before, so I’m going to ask you one more time,” I growl, dropping my tone a bit so they can really hear how fucking serious I am.
“Who is the little girl?” But they both don’t answer.
My father’s jaw tightens and the grip on my phone shifts, and Holden looks at him—not subtly and not quickly—but really looks at him, passing some unknown message between one another.
But my father—he hesitates, and that’s what I was afraid of.
“You do know,” I say quietly as my father drags a hand over his face.
He looks so tired and worn. It’s been months since I’ve seen him and it shows.
Whatever is going on that we don’t know about is starting to hit the surface.
“Elliot,” he starts, and I don’t move. I don’t blink. “After your mom died… after Kade’s…” He swallows. “Things weren’t… stable. For any of you. Including Grayson,” he states.
“That’s not an answer!” I say, and he takes a deep breath.
“That’s part of it,” he answers, and my jaw tightens.
“Then give me the rest.” Another pause, only longer this time. Holden steps in, and I roll my eyes. Always the savior.
“There are things kids shouldn’t have to carry. Things that—” But he stops.
“You erased it,” I say so quickly. Once again, the room fills with silence.
The air becomes thick, so thick it’s suffocating, and I just want to run.
“You took something from me,” I say before even realizing it left my mouth.
My dad’s eyes flick to mine. Pain. Real pain.
And he takes a step towards me and I take one back.
“We protected you. All of you.”
“From what?” I seethe, and there it is again. The fucking silence. I start to shake my head, taking another step back. “No,” I breathe. “You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not when it’s coming back,” I say, and they both freeze.
“What do you mean coming back?” my father asks. I hold his gaze as the next words leave my mouth.
“I didn't find that picture,” I say. “It was sent to me.” And Holden goes still as my father’s grip on my phone tightens.
“From who?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Unknown number,”
“Is that all?” Holden asks, and I hesitate, just for a second, then I shake my head, taking the phone from my father’s hand.
“The messages all disappeared, but the person said, “You forgot,” I tell them, and the room shifts. My father’s face drains, and Holden swears under his breath.
Good, I’m not the only one feeling unsettled now.
“If you don’t know who the girl is,” I say, watching them closely.
“Then explain why someone would think I’m supposed to remember.
” Yet again, no one answers, but it’s not avoidance.
It's so much more than that. It’s fear. The kind that crawls under your skin and stays there.
My father looks at Holden again, something passing between them.
Not confusion, it’s fucking recognition, so I call them out on it.
“You do know!” I spit, and Holden shakes his head.
“Elliot–” But I interrupt.
“What happened that day?” I demand, and my father’s voice comes out quieter this time.
“He wasn’t supposed to be there.” The words hit like a crack through glass and my pulse slows.
“Who wasn’t?” I ask, and my father hesitates, swallowing thickly.
“The girl.” And the room goes silent. Something in my chest shifts, because that answer is worse then knowing the full fucking story.
What in the actual fuck are they hiding?
And why was this little girl never supposed to be there in the first place.
This shit just leads to more questions, and I don’t have the stomach for it right now.