Every Soul

Live for today,

Hope for tomorrow.”

–Albert Einstein

Kindle Edition

Cover Design by Allie Brennan, B Designs

Edited by Lisa Christman, Adept Edits

Formatting by Paul Salvette, BB eBooks

Photography by Michael Stokes

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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For Eric – I miss you every day.

I hate that it has to be this way, and I’m sorry to have to tell you like this, but I’ve battled with this decision for so long. I can’t take it anymore, Bain. I just can’t. Please know how much I love you. You’re my brother, and no matter what, you always will be. Just because I’m not there, doesn’t mean I’m not with you. I know this is hard to accept, but for me, please try. The pain of this world is too great, compared to what’s waiting for me on the other side. I know this will relieve my struggle – it has to.
Love, Kinsey.

Reading her suicide note again kills me. I still can’t come to terms with what she did. After Kinsey took her life, every day that passes I hope I’ll find some answers. Except I haven’t and I fear…I never will.

Staring at my unfamiliar reflection in the mirror, I’m pissed at the man I’ve become. I barely recognize my own face or remember who I used to be. I ease my pain the only way I know how and pop a few pills. As the white chalk dissolves on my tongue, I relish the flavor and know soon I will boost sky high.

“Bain,” my mother calls from downstairs.
Jesus motherfucking Christ, what does she want now?
If you think
I’ve
gotten bad since losing Kinsey, take a look at her – she’s farther off the deep end than I’ll ever be. Pulling my towel from my waist, I find a clean pair of boxers and jeans, this only thanks to our housekeeper.

Just as I exit my room, my mother is struggling up the stairs. I run to help her, but she gives up and falls face first onto the thick, cream carpet. I’ve seen her do this so many times that it’s no surprise, so I settle next to her, resting my hand on top of her messy, blonde hair. She used to be so well kept, and now doesn’t resemble her former self at all. “How much have you had to drink today?” I ask her.

She doesn’t answer me, instead shaking her head so I know she heard me. “The investigator called,” she slurs.

My stomach drops and a wave of nausea takes over. I know exactly what this means. Since my sister died, all we have is her assumed suicide note, which she texted to me. Besides that, the case has run dry – her body has not been found and there are no leads. We hold out hope that she’s still alive somewhere.

Barely able to choke out the words, I ask, “What did he say?” There’s a crackle to my voice, the pain cutting me deep within. This is not something I want to know, but I have to.

She begins to sob and rolls to her side, resting her hand on her forehead. Her cries turn to wails, and I know what she can’t say. The reality of knowing she is really gone is a tremendous blow. Deep down, I’d hoped against hope that she was still alive. But all along I knew it wasn’t true. We are fraternal twins, and when you lose that connection to your other half, you feel it.

She tries to speak, “They…He said…” She trails off crying, and in that moment, I don’t know what else to do except to hold her. Lifting her fragile body onto my lap, I cradle her against the bare skin of my chest and just let her be. Then somehow she finds the courage to speak the words, the words I’ve feared for months. “She’s dead, Bain. They found her.”

Even though in my heart I’ve known it, the words kill me, tearing apart my insides. Tears break the rims of my eyes. My tortured mind drifts, picturing her dead body, bloody and mangled. I immediately wonder how she killed herself. I’m spinning from the combination of my thoughts and the pills. Then my mom clambers off of me and darts into the bathroom. She gets sick and I…I slink away.

I know I should be there for her, but I need answers. I have to know what happened. I grab a faded, gray t-shirt and my car keys, and then bolt. Starting the engine of my car, I blast the heat. It’s another cold spring day in New Jersey, and of course I forgot my coat. Driving over the speed limit, I head to my familiar destination – the police station.

I reach for my phone out of habit, but it’s not in the cup holder. I pat both of my pockets and it’s not there either.
Sonofabitch.
I guess I’ll have to show up unannounced and hope that the ever incompetent detective will see me.

The last time that I was at the station, Detective Eldridge and I got into it. I accused him of letting the case go, of not taking things seriously. Needless to say, he didn’t like hearing that. However, I’m not one to hold back, especially when it comes to my family. I felt like he could be doing more and I let him know that.

The drive only takes me fifteen minutes. I put my car in park and notice a few snowflakes starting to fall. This was Kinsey’s favorite time of year. She always loved when the flowers would get covered in soft flakes. Now every time it begins to snow, I can’t help but think of her. From the smells of an impending snow, to the chill it leaves on your skin, it all reminds me of her.

Looking in my backseat, I’m thankful to see a hoodie. Now I won’t get the “tattoo looks” walking in. Besides, this prick already hates me. I grab it and put it on as I head inside the long, gray building. Two officers exit and one holds the door for me. The instant I walk inside, my senses are invaded by something so familiar. It all takes me back to that day…

“What do you mean I can’t file a missing person’s case? My sister never came home and I can’t get ahold of her. What more proof do you need?”

“I’m sorry, Mr…?”

“Adams,” I snap back.

“Mr. Adams, without any proof of foul play, we have to wait at least twenty-four hours.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” I yell.

The woman sulks in her chair and a tall, salt-and-pepper haired man stands from a desk in the back. He walks over to us and asks, “Is there a problem here, son?”

“Yeah, my sister is missing and for some God unknown reason this woman won’t let me file a missing person’s report until it’s been twenty-four hours.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Do you have any proof of foul play?” I shake my head knowing exactly where this is going.

“I’m sorry, but unless she is a minor, state law requires us to wait at least twenty-four hours. Here is my card; if she doesn’t come home, please call me directly.”

I snatch the card out of his hand and look him straight in the eyes. My breathing is harsh and his disregard doesn’t make anything better. I have a short fuse, always have. The last thing I need to do is assault a police officer…

“Mr. Adams, I was expecting you. How’s your mom?” he asks.

“She’s not well, and your phone call didn’t make things any better.”

“I apologize about that. Come with me, I assume you have some questions.”

I nod my head following Detective Eldridge to one of the back interrogation rooms. He opens the wooden door for me, and I take a seat in one of the dark blue, cloth chairs.

He sits across from me and crosses his hands on the table waiting for me to speak. Staring down at the rough carpet I ask, “Is she here?”

He shakes his head and responds softly, “No.”

Bringing my pain-filled eyes up to meet his, the tears well and I don’t know why. It’s not like I wanted to see her, but part of me found comfort in thinking we were in the same building.

“What happened?”

“Are you sure you want to get into this without your parents here?”

“Yes,” I snap and slam my fist on the table. “My mom told you from the beginning that she wants
you
to tell
me
everything.”

“Calm down, Mr. Adams, I just wanted to ask. Your sister was found off of Old John’s Road in a vacant home. From what we can tell, she broke in and parked her car in the garage.”

I inhale sharply at his words.

“There was a hose that went into the driver’s window of her car and the vehicle ran ’til it was out of gas.”

My mind slips thinking of Kinsey breaking into a house. Parking inside some random garage. Killing herself by feeding a hose through her car window.