Jacket Pocket

I knew there was a problem as soon as I put on my mother’s jacket.  Her pockets were too heavy.  I had finally found her hiding spot; the hiding spot I had been searching for.  I knew she had forgotten she had left the photos in her pocket because she had been hiding them from me for the last six months.  The photos were my only proof of what she had done and why my sister was missing. 

I had suspicions she was my stepmother or my adopted mother and not my birth mother as she so desperately wanted me to believe; mainly due to the fact she refused to show me any pictures of when she was pregnant with me.  I remembered her being pregnant with my sister so at least that part was real.  But now my sister was missing and my mother was refusing to talk about her or give any sort of information to the police.  While I worked behind her back to find Meredith, she actively worked against me.  Several times she had sent an anonymous (and incorrect) “tip” to the police and I only knew because I overheard her making the phone calls. 

I made copies of the pictures so I could do more research into my sister’s surroundings. As I searched the house while my mother was at work, I wondered how I had missed all the clues. All the signs were staring me straight in the face. The chairs, the couch cushions, the newspaper clippings were the subtle signs my mother had inadvertently left. Three days later, I had all the proof I needed. The next day, the entire house went up in smoke.