Page 60 of Light

I can't sit in the corner forever.

I'm scared. In over my head.

But I refuse to be the victim forever. Tonight, instead of staying at the hospital just wandering around, I take a more proactive approach and go home. Not to sleep, though I desperately need to, but to try and figure out what Deke is talking about.

For the longest, Deke has been harassing me about something he thinks I owe him. Every time I try to explain to him that I've got no idea what it is he's talking about, it's almost as if he doesn't think it's possible.

Before I took the loan from him, I only knew about Deke through my husband Thomas. So maybe whatever Deke is looking for has something to do with my dead husband. It's going to be impossible to find any information but I have to try.

The house still smells like destruction.

I close the door behind me and stand there for a long moment, breathing in the stale air, staring at the mess Deke left behind. Books scattered across the floor. The broken lamp. The deep dent in the wall where his fist landed. It all feels so much worse under the harsh overhead light.

I swallow down the rising panic. If I let myself break down now, I might not find the strength to pick myself back up.

Instead of focusing on the wreckage, I turn on my heel and head straight for the hall closet. The storage closet. The one I never got around to organizing after we moved in. Half the time I forget it's even here. Maybe because every time I open it, I get a reminder of everything I lost.

The door creaks open, revealing a tight space crammed with boxes. Some from the move. Some from before. A few labeled in Thomas's careful handwriting.

I drag the boxes out one by one, stacking them neatly against the wall. Dust coats my hands and clogs the air. I sit cross-legged in the hallway and start opening them.

Photographs. Old tools. Clothes that still faintly smell like him. My fingers brush over the fabrics, tracing memories I thought I'd buried.

Tears burn behind my eyes.

I miss him. Not just the man he was, but the life we could've had. The easy smiles. The lazy Sundays. The certainty that even when everything else went wrong, I'd still have him.

Light flashes across my mind, uninvited. His wild grin. His quick temper. His fierce loyalty. The way he talks to Tyler like he already belongs here.

Thomas and Light are nothing alike on the surface. But deep down, maybe they'd have understood each other better than I ever realized.

Maybe Thomas would've liked him.

I sniff hard and wipe my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. I push aside another box, feeling the ache settle deeper into my chest. There's nothing here. Just remnants of a life that no longer exists.

But then something catches my eye. Tucked in the bottom of a box is a black leather bible.

I frown.

Thomas wasn't religious. He never even pretended to be. I don't think he ever saw the inside of a church.

I pick it up carefully, flipping it open.

A folded piece of paper slips out and flutters to the floor.

My heart stutters.

I snatch it up and unfold it, my fingers trembling.

It's not a prayer or a letter.

It's a bill of sale.

From Deke to Thomas.

The handwriting's messy but legible. The details are clear. A property transfer. Money exchanged. Signatures at the bottom. One of them, unmistakably, Thomas's.

A broken laugh bubbles up in my throat.

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