For Never and Always by Ana J. Phoenix

Author:Ana J. Phoenix [Phoenix, Ana J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

They walked almost all the way to the end of the train before they reached the baggage car. Carter paused at the door.

“You want to wait outside again?” Seth asked.

“No, it's okay. I'll come in with you.” He sounded like he really didn't want to, but didn't want to let Seth enter by himself either.

What could be so bad about this car?

“Baggage doesn't refer to luggage, does it?” Seth had no other explanation for Carter's hesitance.

“No. It does not. Well, there are objects in there. They all symbolize things that are dragging you down. The stuff you don't want to think about.”

That did sound bad.

“I still want to see.”

Carter sighed. “Alright then. Don't say I didn't warn you, though.” He held the door open for Seth, and Seth stepped through.

The room was larger than the library, but it had to hold more things too. At first glance, it seemed horribly cluttered. Shelves upon shelves stuffed with various objects of differing forms and sizes. Seth was never going to find the items that belonged to him.

Fortunately, he had Carter to guide him.

“Your baggage will usually be all in one pile,” his friend said. “Your things will give off a faint glow. If they're here.”

“They should be. There was a book with my name in the library too.”

“Huh.” Carter kept standing by the door. Seth didn’t blame him. This room had to give him a bad feeling. For Seth, coming in here was purely satisfying curiosity; for Carter, the objects stored in this car and the feelings he associated with them could decide whether he could pass on or not. So Carter stood back, watching Seth as he looked through the shelves at the back.

It was a little like spying on people he didn’t know, seeing things they would normally not show around. A knife and a gun lay on one of the upper shelves. Both had blood sticking to them. Murder weapons, maybe. Beside them were razor blades, also bloody. Lovely.

On the shelf beneath that, Seth found unfinished paintings of birds and night skies and people and still-lives, a broken sculpture—no way to tell what it had once been. An artist's regrets, most likely. A number of pictures and photographs also hung on the wall. Some of women, some of men.

Seth did a double take when he spotted himself in one of the pictures. He'd never seen this photograph before. It looked like it had been taken in the park, a few years ago. His hair had been shorter than it was now. He wasn't looking directly in the camera, but somewhere off in the distance, a soft smile on his lips. What had he been looking at?

“Sorry,” Carter said. “I forgot that was here.”

“Is that yours?”

“It's a picture I kept on my computer. You look... you look good. Happy.”

Seth turned back to the photograph. It was a good shot, but… “I'm one of your regrets?”

“You should know that by now.”

True, but Seth didn’t like to think of himself that way.

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