CHAPTER 2: Breaking Point

Benji’s eyes opened with some effort. His neck was stiff and his head felt heavy, as if weighed down by the remnants of an ominous dream. The morning sun pierced through the window, casting long golden rays across the room. The room felt strange this morning.

As he sat back on his bed trying to organize his thoughts, a loud thud came from downstairs. His heart raced and he froze in place, shaken by the unexpected sound. The staircase creaked, followed by a few heavy footsteps.

Benji’s gaze snapped at the door just as it opened, revealing his father’s troubled, apologetic face. His usually composed demeanor seemed fragile under the strong sunlight.

“Morning, bud… I’m sorry for the noise. The stupid car just won’t start.”

Benji shook his head, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. “The car? It felt like an explosion, Dad.”

His father sighed, running his fingers through his graying hair.

“Yeah, I know. I guess the engine needs mending by a professional.”

“It’s alright, though. I was already awake.”

His father nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Go wash yourself and come downstairs for breakfast. Let’s not waste this morning.”

Benji watched his father for a moment longer, sensing a lingering worry behind his eyes.

What is he up to? Isn’t he working today? Benji wondered as he nodded and headed to the bathroom.

Descending the stairs slowly, his mind was still occupied by the strange events of the previous day. The house, usually a place of comfort, felt weird today. The spacious ground floor was filled with the aromas of brewing coffee and toasted bread, yet there was an underlying tension in the air.

“Why didn’t you go to work today?” Benji asked, joining his father at the kitchen table.

“It’s Saturday, silly.”

“Saturday?” Benji repeated, blinking. In his mind, the days often blurred together during summer. “Then Mom will be back in two days, right?”

“Indeed, son. I thought we could do something together this morning,” his father proclaimed, his voice carrying hints of enthusiasm.

“Well, yes,” Benji began, straightening his posture, ready to finally share with his father the strange feelings and events of the previous day. But before he could do so much as organize his thoughts, the bell rang.

He stood up with a sigh. But as he walked toward the door, he couldn’t help but hope that it might be his mother behind it.

Shattering his hopes, the door swung open to reveal a tall, slender woman dressed in the familiar blue uniform of the Post Office. Her dark hair was neatly tied back in a tight ponytail under a blue cap bearing the postal emblem.

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“Good morning, Benji!”

“Oh. Good morning, Dorothy,” he replied, his tone somewhat deflated.

“These are for your father,” she said, handing him two yellow envelopes, one larger than the other.

His father approached the door, his earlier cheerfulness replaced by a serious expression.

“Hello, Dorothy.”

Her face lit up. “Hello, Mr. Thorn.”

“Frank, please.”

Caught in the middle of their exchange, Benji cringed inwardly and decided to retreat back into the house, heading back to the kitchen table with the envelopes still in hand.

“What do we have here?” Frank asked, taking the envelopes from him.

“I didn’t check,” Benji admitted, filling up a mug with milk.

Frank’s brows furrowed as he read the information on the larger envelope.

“What is it?” Benji asked, noticing his father’s sudden change in demeanor.

Frank, clearly upset, didn’t answer. Instead, he began opening the envelope with swift, almost frantic movements. Benji took a sip of his milk, his curiosity growing.

Frank pulled out a letter and sat down heavily, his eyes scanning its contents. Benji could see his father’s face pale, his breathing shallow, and his eyes bulge.

What could have shocked him so much? Benji wondered, his own anxiety mounting.

Finally, Frank glanced up to his son, his face expressionless; his eyes glassy.

“What is it, father?” Benji's voice, barely a whisper.

Frank took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking.

“It’s your mother, Benji. She… she had an accident,” he managed to say before turning away, trying to muster some courage to continue.

Benji’s heart plummeted. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. His mother, an adventurous archeologist, had always been an inspiring figure in his eyes. The idea of her being hurt, or of her not coming back, was unbearable.

Come on, ask what has happened. Benji urged himself, but the words wouldn’t come.

“She got lost, Benji,” his father said, his voice breaking. He gave in into a mute lament, and Benji, not long after, found himself crying too.

As the initial wave of shock passed, Benji felt a growing numbness. His mind wandered back to the strange occurrences of the previous day, the lingering unease, and now the devastating news. In his mind, a fleeting thought made him wonder if there was a connection, or if the world was simply this cruel.

“How did it happen?” Benji finally managed to ask, his voice trembling.

His father wiped his son’s tears and gulped. “As you know, she was in Greece, on a dig site. There was a cave-in. They tried to reach her, but… it was too late.”

Benji’s mind raced with questions. “Was she alone? Why didn’t they call instead of sending a letter? Why weren’t we told sooner?”

“I don’t know all the details, son,” Frank replied, his voice heavy. “I have the same, if not more questions, but we’ll get more information soon. For now, we have to prepare… for a trip.”