-Chapter 19: Untold Stories-

-Kris-

After walking a few more blocks, we finally came to the orphanage. I helped Zeke push the wagon to my window before sneaking in through the front doors, hoping the caretakers didn't see us.

"Welcome to my temporary home, Zeke Slater!" I say after we both enter my room.

"Glad I'm welcomed." He smirked. "So how does this work? You have your own rooms or something?"

"The older kids get their own rooms, but the little kids don't," I explain. "Normally, a room like this holds two people, but because the caretakers like to split the kids up by age, I get a room to myself. Each room has a number."

"Oh. What's your room number?" He asked.

"Room 534." She said. "It's a bit blank, but with the help of you and I, we can hopefully spice up the place."

Zeke went over and grabbed a red can of spray paint. He looked eager to get to work.

"So, what's the plan?" He asked.

"Well, my dear Red, we are gonna paint a rainbow flag on the wall," I say happily. "Maybe some other things if we have time. Now open up the windows, and let's get to work!"

"Don't ever repeat that." He cringed.

I playfully scoffed before opening the window to gather the supplies we needed.

—————

After a few minutes of painting, I noticed Zeke seems to know what he's doing with a spray can. I wonder if he's worked with them before.

"You're good with spray paint?" I ask.

"Yeah, Celeste and I would go out and use it later in her life," Zeke replied, never taking his eyes off what he was doing.

"What'd you guys paint?" I ask cautiously. I didn't want to strike a nerve by asking too much about her.

"I don't remember, but Celeste did take pictures, and I have her phone, so I'll show you later," Zeke answered as if everything was fine. "And if I'm correct, they look better then you think."

I nod my head and continue to stare at him for a few seconds before I speak again.

"Ok, I have a question for you." I finally muster up the courage to say.

"What's up?" Zeke said as he was going through the bag of paint.

It's something I've always wanted to know. I never could find the right time to ask, and I'm probably going to regret it big time, but I have to know.

"Can you tell me what happened that night? Like a timeline of the events?" I ask. "You don't have to tell me if u don't want to."

"Ok, then," Zeke replied. "Where do you want me to start?"

"The beginning?" I say, unsure. Mainly because I don't know what that beginning is.

"Ok." He says. The look on his face tells me he's already remembering the events. I don't know what to expect. He never likes talking about it. I know the basics from the news reports, but I'm still curious

"You can stop whenever you want." I quickly say. I don't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want too.

"That night, Celeste had contacted me at some ungodly hour like she normally did. But normally she would text, but this time she called me." He started to explain. "I knew something was up cuz she hated calling people. She only ever called when she felt like she needed to." He placed the paint can on the floor then sat down beside it.

I sat down in front of him and listened to what he had to say.

"I was also surprised that she called because we had a fight and we weren't talking. But when I picked up the phone and heard her voice, I knew something was wrong." He continued. I noticed he wasn't looking at me; he kept his eyes looking at the ground. "Once we both hung up, I grabbed my jacket and shoes and made my way over to her house, something I had done many times, to find her sitting on her porch with tears running down her face."

She has never told me about a fight. She never left out any details when she talked about Zeke. This is news to me.

"We went inside and up to her room where a bunch of old polaroids were lying on the ground. Some were recent. Some weren't. She liked taking pictures." He started to go off on a tangent.

"We took a walk down memory lane for a while until my sister texted me to come home. I told her I wanted to stay with Celeste, but she wouldn't have it. She said if I didn't get home, she'd come to get me."

He took a deep breath before continuing a story that must be hard for him to tell.

"I knew she wasn't going to like it when I told her that I had to go, but I promised her I would be over there the next day. Though she tried to get me to stay, she seemed to agree to the idea. We picked up the pictures, and she walked me to the door." His voice started to break slightly. I expected him to stop telling the story and am honestly surprised he continued. "She gave me a hug, which I returned and said our goodbyes. Our hug lasted longer than it normally did in the past, and I got this feeling that something was wrong. At the time, I didn't know what was causing it, but the moment we let go from the hug, the feeling only grew. My parting words to her were exactly: "I love you. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

That hit me right in the feels. At that moment, he didn't know how bad things were going to go.

"She started walking back up to her room before I had even left the house. I had assumed it was because she was gonna go to bed. I walked down the driveway and turned back around to see if she was in her window. Normally she would watch me leave, and I would turn around and wave to her. This time she wasn't, so I turned around..."

He took another deep breath again. This break took longer than the last, but he still soldiered through it.

"Red, if you don't want to say anymore, Im perfectly fine with that," I say to him.

"No, it's ok. I want to tell you what happened." He assured me.

"Ok," I say, going silent once more.

"The moment I turned around is the moment I heard the shot ring out. When I heard that sound, I knew it had something to do with Celeste." My heart ached for him. I could only imagine the pain he felt. "When I found her, it was not a pretty sight. I ran back outside and called her brother, Kenmur. I told him what happened, and he called the police. Everything was a blur from that moment until we got to the hospital. She died at 1:06 am."

"I'm so sorry, Zeke," I say. I slide next to him to hug him.

Only now do I realize I have tears running down my face.

"Suicide carries in its wake a level of confusion and destruction that is beyond description," I say softly.

"That sounds like a quote from somewhere," Zeke said.

"It is," I say, looking at him with a sympathetic smile. "Someone by the name of Kay Jamison said it."

"Well, whoever that is, is correct." He said.

I smile at his agreement.

"I never got a chance to say goodbye." He said quietly.

"What would you say to her if you had the chance?" I ask.

I cringe at how cliché it sounded out loud.

"I'd ask questions." He replied.

"I'd ask her why she did it. Why she never told me what was going on. I would just want answers."

He sighed.

"I wasn't prepared to lose her." He said.

I gave him a reassuring smile. I may never understand what he went through, but I'll be there whenever he needs it.

"That oddly felt good to say out loud." He said with a sigh. "That's the main reason I'm so hostile to most people."

I let out a small laugh. That makes more sense now.

"Sometimes recounting memories help?" I say more as a question than a statement.

Zeke wiped his own eyes and picked up the paint can.

"C'mon, we can't sit down all day." He said before resuming what he was working on.

I could tell he wasn't over it like he was acting. Then again, nobody could get over something like that very easy. My heart breaks for him.

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"Ta-Da!" I say after I complete my masterpiece, a rainbow heart. "What do you think, Red?"

Zeke, who was painting what seemed to be a red rectangle and black stripes, walked over next to me and looked at my art.

"I like it." He says in the best enthusiastic voice he can muster. "It fits you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You're a caring person." He said. "You're also gay."

I laugh and lightly shove him.

He laughed as well.

"I'm getting a bit hungry," I say as my stomach grumbles. "Wanna go raid the pantry in the kitchen?"

"Won't we get caught?" He asks.

"Pfft. No." I reply calmly. "Just don't move anything too far out of place, and the caretakers won't notice.

He thought for a bit before concluding. "Let's do it."