I ran to his room and froze.
The light was off, but I could still see the outline of someone sitting on the edge of the bed. My heart pounded so hard I thought I would faint.
“Ethan?” I whispered.
The figure didn’t move.
I reached for the switch and turned the light back on. The room was empty. Completely empty. The window was locked, the closet door shut, and his camping bag was gone just like I remembered.
Then I noticed something strange on his desk. His old teddy bear—the one he had lost when he was seven—was sitting there neatly beside a folded piece of paper. My hands shook as I opened it.
Mom, if you hear me tonight, don’t be scared.
I stared at the handwriting. It was Ethan’s.
Suddenly my phone rang. It was another parent from the camping trip. I answered, barely able to breathe.
“There was an accident,” the man said quietly. “A tree fell during the storm. Ethan… he didn’t make it.”
The room spun around me. Tears filled my eyes as I looked back at the note.
At the bottom, one final sentence was written in rushed ink:
I just wanted to say goodbye and tell you I love you one last time.
