Chapter 6: The Memory They Tried to Erase
I couldn’t sleep.
Not because I was afraid of the dark.
Not because Amanda was somewhere downstairs.
Not even because someone had taken a picture of our house without us knowing.
I couldn’t sleep because Dad had said one sentence that kept repeating in my head.
*You said the person smelled like Grandpa’s cologne.*
I was seven years old.
I knew I had memories from when I was little.
A red toy car.
A yellow blanket.
Dad singing the wrong words to my favorite song.
But I didn’t remember Grandpa.
Not clearly.
Just pieces.
A deep voice.
A watch that clicked when he moved his hand.
The smell of something sharp and expensive.
Cologne.
Dad was sitting in the chair beside my bed.
He hadn’t left.
Not once.
Lily was asleep on the floor with a blanket wrapped around her.
She refused to go back to her room.
“I’m staying here,” she had said.
Dad didn’t argue.
Neither did I.
The three of us stayed together.
Like we were afraid that if we separated, something would happen again.
“Dad?””
He looked up.
“Yeah?””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
He knew what I meant.
About Mom.
About Grandpa.
About everything.
His eyes moved to the window.
“Because I thought forgetting would protect you.””
I frowned.
“But I still remembered.””
He nodded.
“I know.””
“Then it didn’t work.””
The words hurt him.
I saw it.
But he didn’t get angry.
He just nodded.
“You’re right.””
For some reason, that made me feel worse.
Adults usually explained why they were right.
Dad was admitting he wasn’t.
“Tell me everything.””
Dad was quiet.
Then he stood and closed the bedroom door.
When he sat back down, his voice was low.
“The night your mother disappeared wasn’t the first strange thing that happened.””
I waited.
“It started months before.””
“With Amanda?””
He shook his head.
“No.””
That surprised me.
“Then who?””
Dad looked at me.
“My father.””
Grandpa.
The word felt strange.
Like it belonged to someone else.
“What did he do?””
Dad took a deep breath.
“When I was younger, I thought my father was the strongest man in the world.””
I listened.
“He built his own company. Everyone respected him. People listened when he spoke.””
“Was he nice?””
Dad hesitated.
That hesitation told me more than words could.
“He could be.””
That wasn’t the answer I expected.
“Could be?””
Dad looked down.
“Some people are different depending on who is watching.””
The sentence sounded familiar.
Because Amanda was like that too.
Dad continued.
“When your mother and I had problems, my father offered to help.””
“Help with what?””
“Keeping the family together.””
I looked at him.
“But he made things worse?””
Dad didn’t answer immediately.
“Yes.””
The room became quiet.
“Your grandfather didn’t like that your mother disagreed with him.””
“Why?””
“Because he believed family meant obedience.””
I didn’t fully understand.
But I knew I didn’t like the sound of it.
“Then what happened?””
Dad rubbed his hands together.
“Your mother started collecting proof.””
“Proof of what?””
“That he was controlling things behind our backs.””
I remembered the recording.
*You don’t get to rewrite his life.*
My mother’s voice.
She had been fighting.
“What kind of proof?””
Dad looked toward the device.
“Messages. Calls. Financial records.””
“Why didn’t you help her?””
The question came out quickly.
Dad looked down.
“Because I didn’t believe her at first.””
The honesty hurt.
But I appreciated it.
“At first?””
He nodded.
“I thought she was angry. I thought she was trying to blame someone because our marriage was falling apart.””
“And then?””
“And then she showed me something.””
“What?””
Dad’s face became pale.
“A conversation between Amanda and my father.””
I sat up.
“What did they say?””
Dad looked at the floor.
“I only heard part of it.””
“Play it.””
He looked surprised.
“What?””
“The device.””
He shook his head.
“Ethan, that recording is dangerous.””
“But it’s the truth.””
Dad stared at me.
Then he looked at the little black device.
Slowly, he picked it up.
“There’s something you need to understand.””
“What?””
“Your mother didn’t give me this because she wanted revenge.””
“Then why?””
“Because she knew someone would try to destroy the evidence.””
He connected it.
A second file appeared.
Dad looked at the name.
His face changed.
“What?””
He showed me.
The file was labeled:
*DON’T LET HIM ERASE THIS*
My heart started beating faster.
Dad pressed play.
Static.
Then voices.
A man.
Grandpa.
Even though I had barely heard him in my life, I knew.
I knew because Dad reacted.
The voice was older.
Calm.
Controlled.
“Your son is emotional.””
A woman answered.
Mom.
“He’s Ethan’s father. He has a right to know.””
Grandpa laughed softly.
“He has a weakness.””
“What weakness?””
“You.””
My hands tightened.
Mom’s voice became angry.
“You threatened me.””
“I advised you.””
“You told me if I didn’t leave, you would make sure I lost my son.””
Silence.
Then Grandpa spoke.
“You’re misunderstanding the situation.””
“No. I understand perfectly.””
The recording became louder.
Mom was crying.
“I will not disappear from Ethan’s life.””
Grandpa replied:
“You already have.””
The file ended.
I stared at the phone.
Nobody moved.
Then Lily woke up.
“What happened?””
Neither of us answered.
She looked at Dad.
“Was that Ethan’s grandpa?””
Dad nodded.
Lily sat up.
“Was he bad?””
Dad closed his eyes.
“I don’t know.””
“But you think he was.””
Another silence.
Then Dad’s phone rang.
All three of us jumped.
The screen showed a name.
Amanda.
Dad answered immediately.
“Where are you?””
Her voice came through.
She sounded different.
Not angry.
Not confident.
Scared.
“You need to listen to me.””
Dad stood.
“I’m listening.””
“No, you’re not.””
A pause.
“You think you know what happened.””
“Because I heard the recording.””
“You heard one recording.””
Dad went quiet.
“What does that mean?””
Amanda took a shaky breath.
“It means your father wasn’t the only one hiding things.””
I felt cold.
Dad gripped the phone.
“What are you talking about?””
“Your father knows why Ethan’s mother disappeared.””
“You said my father—”
“I said your father was involved.””
Dad froze.
The word hung there.
Involved.
Not responsible.
Not innocent.
Involved.
Amanda continued.
“You need to ask him about the night Ethan was taken from the house.””
Dad’s face changed.
I noticed.
Because he knew exactly what she meant.
“You’re lying.””
“Am I?””
A pause.
“Ask him where he was that night.””
Dad ended the call.
Immediately.
But the damage was done.
I looked at him.
“What night?””
He didn’t answer.
“Dad.””
His eyes filled with something I had never seen before.
Guilt.
“Ethan…”
“What night did Grandpa take me?””
Dad sat down slowly.
“I didn’t know you remembered.””
“I don’t.””
“Then how did you know to ask that?””
I didn’t know.
I just knew.
Because suddenly, buried somewhere deep inside my mind, a door had opened.
A small room.
A dark hallway.
A man carrying me.
A voice saying:
“Your father doesn’t need to know everything.””
I grabbed my head.
Dad immediately moved closer.
“Ethan?””
“I remember something.””
“What?””
I closed my eyes.
The memory came in pieces.
A car.
Rain.
A smell.
That same smell.
Cologne.
And a voice.
Not Grandpa’s.
Someone else.
Someone whispering:
“Don’t worry, Ethan. Your daddy will never know.””
I opened my eyes.
Dad was staring at me.
“Who said that?””
I shook my head.
“I don’t know.””
“Try.””
I looked at the device.
The red light suddenly turned on.
By itself.
Dad noticed.
“That’s impossible.””
The device made a small clicking sound.
Then a recording began.
A voice filled the room.
A voice none of us expected.
A voice that made Dad step backward.
Because it was his own voice.
But younger.
Terrified.
May you like
And the first words we heard were:
“Please, Dad. Don’t take Ethan.””
