Through A Childs Eyes

This story contains themes of child death and implied abuse.

"When can I see my parents?"

Detective Clements stopped a few feet behind the swing set, studying the small boy that sat motionless on the right swing with his back to him. The detective scratched at his beard, sighing. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation. These kinds of conversations were never easy, even with adults, but it was a particular kind of torture with kids.

"In a bit, Jacob. I need to talk to you first. Can I ask you some questions?"

The boy nodded, and Clements moved to the empty swing. He lowered himself into it, internally wincing at the way his knees popped and the rusty metal swing set groaned under his added weight. This wasn't the weirdest place he'd ever questioned someone, not after nearly 30 years of working as a detective.

"Did you and your sister play out here a lot?" Detective Clements kept his tone light. He didn't want to upset the boy further, there had been enough of that today already.

Jacob nodded. "All the time. It was our favorite place." He kicked his feet in the sand below the swing, the lights on his new race-car shoes blinking with the movement. "It was nicer out here. Nobody got mad at us out here. We'd climb up on top of the slide and pretend we were explorers, searching for a new land. Somewhere we could live by ourselves, and not have to worry about anyone yelling at us."

Clements hesitated, looking over at the slide the boy pointed at and then back to where he could see purple bruises creeping up under the collar of his shirt. "Somewhere no one hurt you?"

Jacob nodded again, hanging his head slightly.

The detective shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Do you know what happened today, Jacob?"

There was a few moments of silence, and then a quiet, "Lizzie got hurt."

Clements nodded. "How did she get hurt, Jacob?"

The boy was silent, and when the detective looked back at him he saw tears softly hitting the fabric of the boys pants. Detective Clements stood, kneeling down in front of Jacob, ignoring the way his whole body protested the action. He wasn't getting any younger, and his whole body loved to remind him of that daily. He'd have to retire soon, he was getting too old for this job.

"Jacob, look at me." The boy slowly lifted his head, grief swimming in tear-filled green eyes. The kind of grief a boy that young should have no reason to feel. "You aren't in trouble, Jacob. But you're the only one that really knows what happened to your sister, and we need you to help us. What did you see?"

Jacob shook his head, scrunching up his face. The memories clearly distressed the boy, and not for the first time Detective Clements found himself loathing what he sometimes had to do to people in order to do his job.

"It's okay buddy, take your time. You don't have to tell me right now." He stood, groaning as he pulled himself slowly to his feet. It wouldn't do any good to push the boy, not right now. His sister's disappearance was weighing heavily on the little boy, especially since he was the only witness.

He only got a few feet away before he heard the boy speak behind him. "I know where she is."

Detective Clements turned, finding the boy looking at him. He was speechless for a moment before catching himself. "You know where she is? Can you show me?"

Jacob nodded and immediately hopped off the swing. His short strides carried him towards the woods that crowded up against the edge of the family's property, the detective close behind him. "How do you know where we're going, Jacob?" He looked down at the small boy next to him, but Jacob only kept walking, like he hadn't heard the words. His shoes lit up the shadows under the trees as they walked, and Detective Clements felt a sense of unease slide down his spine at the serious look on Jacob's face.

A few minutes later a small shed appeared between the trees, old and rundown with half of the roof already caved in. Jacob pointed at the building, a grim look on the small boys face. "We played here sometimes. It was our fort. Dad didn't like us playing out here, he said it was too far away from the house." 

Detective Clements crept forward, drawing his gun slowly. "Lizzie is in there?"

Jacob nodded. 

The detective silently walked up to the building, glancing back once to make sure Jacob was staying back. Slowly, he pushed open the door, scanning the room for any dangers. The inside was just as rundown as the outside, with the floor almost completely covered in debris and plants. A broken down dresser sat against one wall, with a shattered upright mirror standing next to it. There was a table laying half on the floor missing a leg, with two chairs next to it, one knocked over on the floor. In the corner was a metal bed frame with a thin, moldy mattress on it, and the detective felt his heart sink when he noticed the small body laying on the mattress.

Clements walked forward, knowing the girl was already dead by how still she lay. He felt his blood run cold when he got closer, however, and realized there was a second small body curled up between Lizzie and the wall.

He whipped his head around, looking back through the open door, and found the woods outside the shack empty. Clements stared in disbelief, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

As he turned back around and looked at the small, broken bodies of Lizzie and Jacob Peralis, their arms wrapped around each other even in death, he swore he heard the faint sound of children's laughter on the breeze.