The drive home felt endless. Rain slicked the roads, and streetlights reflected in long, distorted streaks across the pavement.
When I stepped inside the house, it felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still.
I paused outside Liam’s bedroom door, my hand resting on the frame. The faint scent of his shampoo lingered in the air, achingly familiar.
The closet door was slightly open.
Just an inch.
Like someone had been there recently.
I pushed it open fully and stepped inside.
At first glance, everything looked normal. Clothes hung neatly. Shoes lined the bottom. Nothing seemed out of place.
But I knew Liam. If he left me a message like that, it meant something was hidden.
I began searching carefully. I moved hangers aside, checked pockets, and scanned every shelf.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Eric.
I ignored it.
Then, on the top shelf, tucked behind a stack of old comic books, I found a blue shoebox.
My pulse quickened as I pulled it down and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Okay, Liam,” I whispered. “Show me.”
