Chapter 37

“Safe,” she whispered in her seat now, satisfied with her findings along Morrison Road. She seemed to wilt beside me, losing a heavy burden of sorts that I didn’t completely understand but found remarkable.

In truth, I felt sick to my stomach at that moment. Something turned within my gut that was unpleasant and pressed against my intestines. I felt raw inside and spoiled. Simply put: I knew very little why the nausea overcame me, but at the same time, I knewperfectly well why it had surfaced. The disappearance of one’s father could cause such an upset stomach and sickened turmoil. The cruel reality of my father’s vanishing—the knowledge of where his body was buried, the unlimited comprehension of what my mother had brought upon him, the simple and intellectual capacity of first degree murder in my heart—had designed such a tumultuous condition; one that I couldn’t push away or a take a drug in pill form to subside.