Jason Brooks

The words reverberated through the room, echoing in his soul until he was nine years old again, dancing around the kitchen with his mother, pretending his father was coming home any second.

That was before they'd received the news, back when they were not happy exactly, but not sad either.

They survived, and occasionally, they thrived.

When his mother got a big tip, she would come home smiling and twirl around the kitchen, her skirt flying and her hands waving in the air.

Jason missed that smile.

He never saw it again after that fateful day, that terrible knock on the door that changed everything.

A shiver ran down his spine, and he glanced at the hot tub again.

There was something at the bottom of it.

With the song still ringing in his ears, he slid back into the water and dove for the object.

The water wasn't the warm embrace he'd been expecting.

It had turned icy cold, and his limbs felt heavy.

The bottom of the hot tub felt farther away the more he swam.

Bubbles rose from his mouth as the air left his lungs.

but he kept going until his hands grabbed a small plastic object.

He didn't get a good look at it until he broke the surface, coughing and gasping.

His heart was beating quickly in his chest, but it stopped altogether when he opened his hand.

In his palm lay a green plastic soldier with a black helmet and a gun slung over his shoulder.

It was the same soldier whom he led into battle against the elephant army when he was six years old.

The same one he proudly showed his friends when he explained where his father was.

With shaking hands, Jason flipped it over and ran a finger along the tiny J carved into the bottom of the figure.