The Last Laugh

Chapter 7 - Why? -II

***

While I lay quiet on my bed like a dead person, Heather quietly entered the room and came to sit by

me. I kept my eyes on the ceiling. I felt like life had been drained out of me.

Heather held my hand in hers.

"D– don't worry, Sheridan. Dad will find uncle Paul." she murmured softly. I didn't move or respond. "I'm

sorry, Sheridan."

She ran her little fingers through my hair, continuously and softly. Surprisingly, it relaxed me.

"You feeling a little bit better?" she asked softly. I nodded slowly. She continued.

"Please don't cry again. You cried this morning and– and it made me cry too. Mom punished me for

that." I looked up at her for the first time since she'd entered the room. I held her hand tight and opened

my mouth to say something but nothing came out. I didn't even have the force to speak.

At that instant, Sawyer appeared at the door, her little arms crossed. She looked at Heather with a

frown.

"Heather, you're not supposed to be here. I'll tell Mom."

"Just shut up for once, Sawyer." Heather's reply came out dry. I looked at her surprised. Sawyer looked

at her, shocked. Her big sister had never answered her that way.

"I always keep the things you do from mom, but you are always reporting on me. If you go report now,

don't speak to me again until daddy finds uncle Paul."

I saw frustration in Sawyer's eyes. I saw pain. Her sister had never spoken to her like that and had

never threatened their friendship.

"I'm sorry." she grumbled.

"Fine."

Sawyer ran out of the room. Heather turned to me.

"Bye, Sheridan. Mom might soon notice I'm up here." she stood up and left the room. I stayed quiet.

***

Days passed by. A whole week. My dad wasn't still found. I was hopeless. I'd stop eating, playing,

sleeping and even talking. Uncle Ken begged me to eat. He spent all days with me. Trying to console

me. I'd changed so much in just a week. I wasn't the happy little boy of the first week. I was now a

hopeless kid who felt lonely. I even refused Heather from approaching me. It was serious. NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

*

One fateful day, the sheriff appeared at our door to announce something horrible. He spoke to uncle

ken privately and gave him a plastic bag with something in it.

After he was gone, I went straight to uncle Ken's room. He panicked and tried to hide something when

he saw me.

"What are you doing here, son? Y– you should be–"

"Is my dad dead?" I cut in with a question.

Uncle ken looked at me in surprise.

"Sheridan, please you–"

"Tell me, uncle. Please. I need to know the truth."

I begged him continuously but he refused. I left the room.

Some minutes later, I heard him leave. I quickly went back. Luckily he'd left the bag the sheriff had

given him. I opened it. I almost collapsed.

My dad's clothes of the day he went missing, all covered in blood.

I landed on the floor. Unable to breath or move. Staring dumbly at the clothes.

I noticed another little paper bag inside. I opened it.

"Aaaaahhh!!" I screamed so loud that uncle Ken and aunt Christina soon came running in.

Tears had filled my eyes again and I was crying as bad as the first time I got the bad news. Uncle Ken

quickly lifted me off the ground and carried me in his arms, trying hard to calm me down again.

"You should not have done that, Sheridan!" he yelled angrily but with pain in his voice.

Not only had I discovered my father's bloody clothes, I'd found three fingers in that paper bag. Was that

all that was found of my father?? He'd been murdered! It wasn't a wild animal! Noo! His body had

surely been buried or thrown!

I was traumatised. These were the worst two weeks of my life.

The worst.

From that day, nothing was the same again.

***

A week passed and my dad's remains were buried at our ranch. Almost the whole town was present. I

was the only person left of that family. Alone in the world. Good friends and even the town's people

cried. Uncle Ken was as pale and sad as me. He tried to make me eat enough while he himself did not

eat a thing. It was a horrible experience. I wasn't me anymore. The smiley, friendly and playful Sheridan

had turned into a sad, depressed, pale and quiet Sheridan. I attracted pity from everyone.

After the burial, the day came for me to pack my remaining stuff in our ranch and to take them back to

high Meadows. I had no choice but to stay there until I was big enough to handle my father's ranch

myself.

********

A whole year passed. I was now officially a resident at high meadows. I changed school and had no

choice but to go Heather and Sawyer's school.

For the first time in my life, I'd spent Christmas and new year without my dad. I felt horrible.

I was still the gloomy Sheridan I'd become. I needed more than enough time to be who I was before. I

spoke to no one in that house apart from uncle Ken. I believed he was the only one who felt what I was

going through. I was now an orphan. Uncle Ken was my only source of comfort. He reminded me of

dad. A lot. He made me feel like I still had a father. He was the only one I managed to smile with.

Heather had stopped speaking to me. That was because I'd asked her to, in a rather rude manner. It

made her sad. It wasn't my fault. I wanted to be left alone. My dad's death had caused a lot of changes

in me. I still liked her. A lot. I just needed time. Much time.

***

One day I retuned from school. Uncle ken was busy with the boys at the barn and aunt Christina had

gone out. I went into the house and found Sawyer sleeping on the couch. I walked past her and went

upstairs. I hadn't seen Heather yet. Though I didn't speak to her, I still liked seeing her.

I went to my room and dropped my bag on the bed. I then left to go drink some water. I passed by the

girls' room and the door was slightly open. I looked inside.

Heather was sitting on her bed, drawing flowers in her book. She seemed lonely. I felt sharp guilt in me.

It wasn't her fault if I'd lost my dad.

Slowly, I entered the room. She looked up at me. I smiled a little. She seemed surprised. Normal. For

months now I hadn't smiled or spoken to her. She smiled back, reddening.

"I'm sorry, Heather. I didn't mean to be rude with you. It's just that–"

"I understand." she cut in softly and stood up.

"Okay. Thanks." I approached her and hugged her. She hugged me back.