Shiloh ran through the pounding rain, her bare feet bleeding against the gritty gravel road. Her chest heaved as she pushed herself forward away and away from the miseries that clung to her home. Sammie was gone. Forever and ever gone.
Daddy seemed to have forgotten his job at the college, and now spent the days vigorously cleaning. Momma didn't talk anymore. The eerie silence that hung heavy over the spotless furniture in the McFadden house was too much. The stillness of country life was too much. The fact that her only sister was missing… never to be seen again… well, it suffocated Shiloh’s very soul.
Turning forcefully into the abandoned Burnington Estate, Shiloh flew with all her might to the safety and comfort of the overgrown gardens. No one came to the Burnington Estate. No one had lived there for over sixty years, and the unlocked doors welcomed any who dared. While the youngsters in town came up with wild stories to haunt each others souls, and dared each other to face the “Burnington Ghost,” Shiloh only new this place as a sanctuary of hope and regeneration.
She lowered herself down to the bench inside the glass house. It had two doors from the trail and another pair of doors opening over the large, plant-filled pond. Shiloh opened the doors and slipped her bloody, pounding feet into the icy water.
Her brown hair dripped rhythmically on her arm. Shiloh’s golden brown eyes, once filled with sunshine and love, now were clouded by lose and doubt. She ran over that night again, slowly swishing her big toe back and forth next to a water lily. After dinner, while the evening still glowed orange, Sammie announced that she was going for a walk. She wore her favorite pink dress and the necklace that Shiloh had given her on her seventh birthday last March. On it hung a small silver anchor, a symbol for Sammie’s love for the ocean.
No one had thought anything of her walking by herself. It was normal in their small town. Sammie did it all the time. But six hours later when she didn’t return, the police went out to search for her. Shiloh had sat in her room crying and praying and worrying. But none of that helped, because two months later not a footprint had been found.
Suddenly Shiloh’s phone rang, ripping her from her memories. She pulled it out of her pocket and seeing the name “Wes” flashing, she chuckled.
“Hey Wes,” Shiloh mumbled in the only tone she could muster.
“Hey, where are you? I was wondering if we could talk,” he voice was sincere and he seemed concerned about something. It’s just like him to worry about me, she thought.
“I uh… I’m not at home right now…” she started, not really wanting to reveal her secret hiding place altogether.
“Let me guess. Your at the Burnington Estate?” He asked, coyness in his voice.
“How did you-” Shiloh began, but jumped rigidly at the gentle tapping against the doors into the glass house. She swung around to see Wes standing outside in the rain, a phone to his ear. Though slightly shocked at him finding her here, Shiloh wasn’t all that astonished. Wes knew her almost as well as she knew herself. They’d been best friends since diaper days.
Shiloh let him in, and he shook his shaggy brown hair, sending water droplets flying in every direction. She squealed in response, and then hit him on the arm, not bothering to ask how he found her. He’d probably known all along.
“I uh… wanted to see how you’ve been. I know you and your family have been cooped up in the house for the last few weeks. We haven’t talked that much.” They sat back on the bench, and again dipping her feet in the water, Shiloh clenched her jaw. The attack of tears was an evil force that she had been determined to overcome. She had only let herself cry a little, but never showed any of the pain.
But she couldn’t hide it from Wes.
Looking into his eyes, Shiloh searched for something to grab onto as she slipped deeper into the cold, damp darkness of depression. She put her head on his shoulder, looking out at the constant patter of rain on the pond, and she cried. Shiloh let the pent up tears flow out in heaves and fits of rage and exhausting sadness. Wes knew to hold her in a hug, and just let his hurting friend hurt.
When the rain had lightened and the sky had grown a darker shade of grey they stood up, beginning to walk back to the road. Wes had his arm around her shoulder, and Shiloh slowly drug her feet. Then, a silver flash caught her eye somewhere in the garden. She turned her head to the right, looking over the dense green and growing weeds- another sparkle in the light rain.
Shiloh walked in a trance towards the object. Pushing her way through the shrubbery, she could feel Wes’ concerned gaze on her. Then, she saw it. It just sat there… as if it had no knowledge of its being.
There, thrown across a tall growing weed, was the silver broken necklace chain, and the small silver anchor laying still on a leave. Covered in blood.
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