Epilogue

LYRIC STUDIED THE room around him. Sitting on the small, single bed he listened carefully for any noises, but was greeted with a surprisingly comforting silence. The four white walls were slightly padded and the only furniture was the bed and a simple desk and chair. Red, dying tulips sat in a plastic vase filled with dirty water in the centre of the desk, alongside a small black notepad and pen.

A small south-facing window with iron bars across it was the focus of the far wall, and it let in the bright afternoon sunshine. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt the warm rays on his skin.

When he opened his eyes, they drifted to the half dozen or so pictures that were taped to the padded wall above the desk. Standing, he went to investigate.

Each photograph was a picture of his family. His parents. One of Cedar on his own when he was younger. Another of him and his brother down on the beach, arms around each other and enormous grins plastered across their faces. Then a couple of the whole family.

Together. Alive. Content. Safe.

Happy moments captured in time. As he gazed over each, taking in the details of the pictures and feeling the emotions that rose as the memories surfaced, he was filled with an odd sense of ease. If he closed his eyes now, he could still hear his brother calling his name like that day on the beach. He could still feel the soft embrace of his mother when he was sad and needed comforting, and he could still hear the strong, hearty sound of his father laughing as he enjoyed the sight of his boys playing nicely together. He ran his fingers over the photographs, and stayed there in their memory for as long as he could bear until the tears blurred his vision and he started to sob.