Smile!

Sometimes, I wonder if all of it was real or just an elaborate imagination.

Although, what I do know is that no one talks about the "incident" anymore. Whenever it is brought up, everyone pretends that it never happened. Smiling and laughing, telling me that "You just imagined it my dear. None of this ever happened." and then launching a tale of how my imagination was always way too complex and intricate for my age. But I could see through their forced smiles which never reach their eyes. Or the shifty, scared glances at each other after I finally drop the topic for that time. They were afraid. Of what? the truth? That I am the reason my brother is dead? Or maybe that I made up an elder brother who never even existed? Never born? That I was going crazy? I do not know.

I did not even remember the incident until last fall, when I found a torn up certificate with the name 'Aiden Colt' on it. I was cleaning the spare bedroom in my grandmother's house when I found it, crumpled, dirty and torn, stashed away behind one of the legs of the bed. It had taken me nearly half an hour trying to tear it free from the wooden grasp. And there it was, the name that sparked up a horrifying memory.

Aiden Colt. 

I had a brother and I did not even remember him. Someone that must have accompanied Mom to the orphanage. Someone who must have accepted me as his sister and welcomed me home. But when I tried to talk and showed the piece of paper to Mom, she instantly dismissed it. "There was never an Aiden Colt in our family, Ciara."  She always told me that it is just us. Her and me. She never had a son. Had not even heard of any 'Aiden Colt'. So naturally as I had no help from her I went to the trusty Google.  After combing through hundreds and hundreds of Aiden Colt, the only small reference I found was a missing person's report from the small town where my Grandma lived. But it was dated 1996, so no dice. But that did not discourage me. I searched everything I could about him but none of it seemed even remotely familiar.

I nearly became obsessed. I knew the name. I remembered something horrific happened. Just the felling of complete and utter terror whenever I think of it. The one that makes you want to just give up and curl in a ball. No hope of ever surviving. Maybe it was my own brain trying to suppress traumatic events. They say it does that sometimes, to ensure your sanity. But I was already nearly going insane. What is one step more?

I don't know why but I thought knowing would help. A closure, if you will. I don't know on what. But a closure nonetheless..

But a real breakthrough came in my research when I visited my grandma again. I had gone to search for the reference but had found none. I nearly gave up actually. It had been five months of rigorous research but no real evidence. So when the single father across the street asked me to babysit his kid while he went on a date, I agreed.

He was an old family friend, I called him Uncle Tom. I had been to his wife's funeral when I was younger. She was a great lady. Full of life and always smiling. I just liked her because she always brought me chocolates whenever she visited my grandma. I was devastated when I got know that the nice lady across the street had died. "Drunk driver.", Mom had said, "Pushed her to another lane where a bus rammed into her car. Such a shame. "

So the fact that he was actually going on date was wonderful. I was so happy for him. He dropped his son, age five, to my Grandma's bungalow in the evening. My grandma, Me and Ryan spent half an hour playing Ludo until it was time for my grandma to go to sleep. She took her medicine and went to her room. Ryan had brought a Marvel coloring book and was coloring Iron man Green when I decided to open my laptop and just casually swift through some websites. 

It was then when I got an AirDrop. Now, my AirDrop was on contacts only. And the only contact I had in this town was close-by neighbors, Uncle Tom and my Grandma. So not knowing who it was from, I declined it. 

But then it came again. From the same contact. "AF" it said. I chuckled to myself before finally accepting. It was a photo, looked old, like vintage. Of a man, no a boy. Older than me, probably young adult with windswept hair and dark eyes, he was smiling. The kind of smile that made you trust a person instantly. He was a looker, I will give him that. 

The picture was captioned: "Looking for him?" I some how could not send any message back.

I sat back on the couch. Ryan must have noticed the mood drop, because he immediately climbed the couch to get a better look at the screen.

"You know him?" I asked, trying to smile which came out more like a grimace.

"I saw him.." Ryan replied, his face crunched up in his quest to remember where. "He comes sometimes." 

"Is he a friend of your daddy?"

"I don't know. He just stand out and look at Granny's house." He said, His English still a bit rusty as it was not his first language, before apparently losing interest and went back to coloring the Iron Man green and gold. 

I just sat there for a while.

"Ryan?" I called, after gaining my senses. "When was the last time you saw this guy?"

"When daddy left me here."

My heart dropped. I instantly ran to the living room window which gave the view for the porch. Even though it had been an hour since Ryan was here, I still hoped to catch a glimpse of the person. Or maybe of the one who shared the photograph. But nothing. The street were empty and desolate with only the streetlights to give some brightness.

When Uncle Tommy came to collect Ryan, I showed him the photo and told him how Ryan recognized it. "Don't mind him hon, " He smiled, fixing his glasses on the crooked bridge of his nose. "Ryan has a very elaborate imagination, not unlike you, you know."

I stood at the porch, watching the gate to Uncle Tom's house close. Did Ryan really imagine all of that too? He imagined a whole person? It was not really that uncommon for a child of his age to have imaginary friends. But does that mean that everything was futile?

The ping which indicated an AirDrop suddenly rang through the quiet house. I dashed to my laptop and opened the message. This message came from an account called "CA" and it was another picture. A picture of the dark eyed stranger with a small child in his arms. the child had shied away from the photo, her face buried in the teen's shoulder. The guy was laughing, carefree and happy.

But the caption with it scared the living life out of me.

"He never smiled after this photograph. I had to cut one on his face. Would you like to see that?"

Before I could reply, another AirDrop came through. My laptop fell from my hands as I opened my mouth to scream. Only for a gloved hand to cover it. I thrashed but the intruder was stronger and had me instantly pinned on the floor. Tears pooled from my eyes as my hands shook.

"Shh, Ciara. It is alright. Your hag upstairs is not gonna hear anything, she took her sleeping pills did she not? So no need to yell, sweetheart. Now, be a good girl and stay quiet for me. won't you?"

The pressure on my neck increased and I felt a cool metal touch my collarbone briefly. I instantly nodded.

"Good girl" he said, his fingers running through my hair, "It wasn't that hard was it?"

His hand left my mouth. I did not dare to make a sound as I felt the knife on my jugular. "Please...please let me go.." I panted, my eyes blurry with tears.

He just laughed, cold and high. "I just caught you, my little mouse. Why would I let you?"

"What do you want!" I cried.

"I have been given a mission, little mouse. Mission to eradicate the weeds like you. Weeds who will eventually harm this little utopia. My god wants you all dead and justice to be served."

"Now" he said, pulling something out from his pocket and forcing my jaw open. He pushed a piece of cloth in my mouth. My head had started to pound, everything was blurry and weightless. I wanted to push at the intruder, hit him, do anything. but I could not. All I could was sit there, my arms heavy by my side, as I heard him rummage around his bag.

I could not scream, could not cry, could not move, when I felt a cool metal digging around my lips. The pain was stinging. But all I could do was moan brokenly.

"Shh, sweetheart. It will be over soon. Just a bit more. Now, look at that. Such a beautiful smile you have! C'mon, let me take a picture to commemorate out success."

"Look at the camera sweetheart. Smile. Smile because you are going to be one with my God. He is going to be so happy with you."

"Now say cheese.."

The flash of the phone went of as my world turned black.

----X-----

Connor Denvers had spent ages and ages searching through all the missing persons report in his new town but he found no mention of Ciara Colt. He sighed and closed his eyes. A few days ago, he had found her journal, that journal dated last at June 6, 2010.

"I have never heard of Ciara Colt in my life, Denvers." His neighbor Ryan, a 17 year old who was born in this town had told him. His Dad, Thomas or Tommy as the town called him, had also replied in negative, but something was off. He had said it too fast for Connor's liking, almost as if he knew something but was hiding it.

Everyone in the town he asked had the same answer. But it all felt wrong. There had to be a Ciara Colt. He had found her Journal, in which she wrote about this town only. About the large meadows and the hidden water fall.

She had to be real.

Connor's parents had gone for a date, so he just reheated the food in the refrigerator. He was tired, and Ciara could wait.

It was late at night, the movie he had started was already rolling credits, when he was roused with the familiar chime of his iPhone's AirDrop. The contact showed "AF". He, with half closed eyed, opened the picture attached.

The picture contained a girl, nearly his age. With short cropped hair and bright eyes. Her smile was beautiful, The kind of smile that made you trust a person instantly. She was a hot. Connor could give her that. He smiled before his eyes fell a bit down on the screen.

The picture was captioned: "Looking for her?"