The Trial (The Tree House) Read Free Page A

over and sat down on my bed knowing full well that there was going to be a big red bloodstain on the mattress when I got back up. I didn't care. This place – though empty – was still full of memories. I learned how to play guitar here. Had my first kiss sitting on the edge of this bed. Written my first of many love and break up songs here – not that they had been any good. I'd spent many late night hours watching YouTube videos at my desk. Most of them involving cats or idiots hurting themselves in one way or another. My room had been my sanctuary. But now...
    Now it was just a shell. Emptied of the things I had once loved. The things I had once needed. Right then though, I just needed a freaking shirt. I stood up, feeling my jeans peel off the mattress. Oh yeah. Big ol' stain to freak out the next person that saw it. Hopefully that wasn't going to be any time soon. I went over and opened my dresser not really sure if I expected to find anything.
    The dresser was cleaned out. My closet was cleaned out. My desk was cleaned out. Everything that had defined me in this room had disappeared without a trace. Though I suppose that was the point. To disappear without a trace.
    When I got back downstairs, both Ben and the body were gone. A blood trail snaked across the floor and disappeared into the kitchen. After following it through the kitchen and out the back door, I found my brother walking away from the shed with two shovels.
    “You seem oddly calm with this whole situation,” I said feeling my teeth chatter.
    “We'll talk about it later,” Ben muttered then pushed the shovel into the dirt before pulling up a big chunk of earth. “Let's take care of this first.”
    Now I joined him, trying to ignore the bitter cold biting at my naked torso. “And then what?”
    “Then we'll find you a shirt.”
    “And maybe some pants too,” I added. “Preferably a pair that isn't caked in blood.”
    As the two of us dug, my body began to go numb and before too long, only my arms ached. The rhythmic motions of stabbing the shovel into the earth and scooping the dirt out into a slowly growing pile soon had my mind wandering. I couldn't help but wonder where my parents were now. I looked down at the body we were about to bury. Were they still alive?
     
    The morning the letter had come , I was getting ready to go on a run. I'd been doing that every morning. At least since Ben had gone to London. The envelope was just lying on the floor in front of the door when I'd come out of my bedroom. Maybe it was something from the apartment manager about rent, or something else from someone else about something else. I hadn't thought too much of it. Though maybe I should have. What I hadn't expected was to find my name written in the familiar, messy handwriting of my father.
    I'd stuck the letter between my teeth and gone to the fridge to take out a pitcher of orange juice. Then I opened the envelope containing the letter that would make the glass pitcher slip from my hand and shatter on the ground. I bet the floor was sticky and covered with ants now. I hadn't wasted any time after that throwing clothes into a bag and running out of the apartment.
    Once in the car, I'd driven aimlessly for a while, still in shock at what my dad had written to me. Where did he want me to go? Where could they be? Somehow I ended up at the car lot. Maybe my subconscious was hoping there was some sort of clue there. When I'd gotten inside my dad's office, I immediately saw the note and box of keys lying on his desk. “The least we could do” it had said. Then I'd noticed there was a message on the answering machine. I'd hit the button and put my head in my hands. My dad's voice crackled over the speaker. “Jack,” he'd said causing me to lift my head again. “Sea-Tac, eight twenty two, Sunday night. Delete this now.” Click .
     
    Ben threw his shovel down causing me to snap out of my stupor. “Alright,” he said clapping his hands together. “I think