I woke up the next day feeling that it was some important day but not be able to remember it. Giving up on remembering, I got out of the bed and padded towards the bathroom to brush my teeth. After that, I stepped into the living room to fix myself some coffee and sandwich. But as soon as entered, I was hit by the heavenly smell of baked goods.

"Merry Christmas." Noah's voice sounded from the kitchen. Yeah, that was it. It was Christmas. I strolled towards the kitchen to see what Noah was doing. He looked like he just showered which was a novelty for him as he never showered this early on holidays. He had oven mittens on his hands and an apron tied around him.

I have oven mitts in my home?

He was taking out a fresh batch of cookies from the oven and I could feel my mouth practically watering. I had this amazing cook in my house for all these days and here I was living on take-out boxes. That was so unfair. I approached the cookies quietly, grabbed one, and put it in my mouth. They were like heaven in my mouth.

"Umm.."I moaned at the taste and Noah turned with an amused grin.

"You like them?" He asked.

"Yes, grandma." I said sitting on the counter, "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you," He said. Then he became quiet like he was trying to remember something.

"Wait, I've got something for you." He left me in the kitchen and strolled into his room.

God, no, presents.

I always kept on forgetting how big deal Christmas was for Americans. I always felt like it was just another holiday since I never really celebrated it. I still remember how pissed Jane was when I didn't get her anything for our first Christmas. Thank God, she was spending this Christmas with Matt's parents. If I had forgotten to get presents at normal times, it was no surprise I had forgotten this year. This year could get the weirdest year of my life award. However, my roommate was going to be pissed off. Since I was at the topic of roommate I tried to remember if Mitchell had ever gotten any present for me.

No, she never did. Now it all made sense. She never celebrated Christmas because she was a Satanist. I never remembered Kevin getting anything for her too. Wow. There were so many hints I missed.

"Here it is," Noah was standing with a gift pack in his hand and I wanted to rewind time and buy a gift for him.

"You really shouldn't have," I said taking the pack out of his hand. He just shrugged. I opened the pack to find 'The Testaments' hardback. I remembered telling him I wanted to read that book.

"Noah, this is great," I said and threw my hands around him.

"Whoa. I'm glad you liked it." Noah said over my shoulder. I released him and looked between the book and him.

"I didn't get you any presents. I'm sorry, it completely slipped my mind." I said apologetically.

"This is not a quid pro co, Naina. I just wanted to." He said, "So, do you have any plans today?"

I racked my mind to say something but I said an unexpected thing.

"I want to visit Carol," I said. This was the first time I talked about her to Noah.

"Carol?" He asked. I believed I had come to a point where I could trust him with this secret. I told him about the day I met Carol and the truth I discovered about Mitchell.

"What?" He was as shocked as me when I first heard that piece of information, "She told me she was from Colorado. She even talked about her parents sometimes. Everything is a lie?"

I could understand how he was feeling right now because I went through the same. The feeling that you know nothing about the person you thought you knew. But my instinct was telling me I had to go back to the orphanage. There should be something that would tell why Mitchell did what she did. It could give some insight into these people who had murdered her.

Apart from all these, I couldn't stand the thought of that little girl waiting for Mitchell all alone on a Christmas day. If I went there, I could distract her and that was the only favor I could do for the girl.

"Then I guess we are going to Salem this Christmas." Noah shrugged and tossed me a cookie which I caught deftly and ate with joy.

"No, I don't want to ruin your plans and I don't think you would be allowed up there. It's a girls' orphanage." I said. As much as Noah wanted to help me, I had a feeling that only I should go. There was no point in introducing more temporary people to Carol.

*********

I walked into the orphanage through the arched entrance. It was different from the last time I had visited it. The world didn't forget Christmas even though I did. The snow had transformed the place into a winter wonderland.

Children in rainbow colors of sweaters and caps were playing with the snow. Snowballs were being shot, snow-mans were being built and little kids were on the ground making snow angels. I never saw something like that except in movies. I stopped to take in the scene before me. It was surreal for a tropical girl like me.

While I was admiring the scene, the reason for my visit was running towards me in a baby pink sweater and cap. She had a joyous smile on her face which was not there the last time I saw her. She was in a full-on festive mood. I was glad she still remembered me from last time. It would have been so awkward to introduce myself again.

"Merry Christmas, Naina. Is Mitchell here with you?" She asked looking behind me. I thought a lot about what I was going to say to her on the way and decided on the obvious course of action. I was going to lie.

"Merry Christmas to you too." I shook her little hand, warm with the glove. "Mitchell couldn't make it. She's visiting Kevin's parents. She told me to give you this."

I gave her the gift I was hiding behind me until now. She squealed and took the box from me, opening it without wasting a moment.

"Yay." Her excitement relaxed me. She liked the gift. I didn't have any idea what to buy for a six-year-old girl. The salesman behind the gift counter helped me out by suggesting pastel colors and a coloring book. But not before giving me a funny look for buying a present on Christmas day itself.

"Will you wish Mitchell for me?" She asked, to which I nodded with shame. I should do this if I want to find any clues about Mitchell's mysterious childhood. I promised myself I would tell her the truth once I figure out what surrounded Mitchell's murder.

"So Carol, did Mitchell leave any of her things here when she left for college? She asked me to ask you." I said and waited for Carol's reaction. A little frown formed between her eyes as she tried to remember and finally it dissolved as she remembered something.

"She left her trunk for me. It has some of her things. You can come to see if you want." She said grabbing my hand. She was pulling me towards the residential building just like the first time. I decided to show my volunteer card from the last time if I was stopped.

But there was no receptionist at the desk. Maybe she was on leave. The common room of the building had a big, decorated Christmas tree. We continued up a flight of stairs and finally stopped in front of Carol's room. The room was also different. The girls decorated the room with hand made paintings, ribbons, bulbs, and whatever they could get their hands on. Fortunately, there was no one here just like the last time. Maybe everyone was playing downstairs or praying in the big church.

"Come in." Carol skipped towards the bed and dragged out a big black trunk from under a bed. I followed her in. There was a sticker labeled Mitchell on the center of the lid which was almost peeled off and turned to yellow. The trunk had rust spots indicating it had been around for years. I couldn't imagine the immaculate Mitchell living here as a little girl with all her belongings stashed in a trunk box. I didn't know why but I had always imagined her as a privileged kid with a clean room and perfect grades, living in the suburbs. I couldn't be farther from the truth. It suddenly made me feel grateful for my own childhood which was happy and wholesome.

"Can I go, show my gift to my friends?" Carol asked brimming with excitement.

"Yeah. Sure." I said, thankful for her suggestion. She ran her way out. I opened the unlocked trunk immediately. At the top, there were new looking clothes and toys which might belong to Carol. I removed them neatly and placed them on the bed, searching for Mitchell's belongings. At last at the bottom, I found what I was looking for. There were a bunch of certificates won from various competitions which had turned to yellow with age and a couple of mementos with Mitchell's name on them.

But what attracted my attention more was a personal diary with a red cover and a little belt closing it. I picked it out of the trunk with a feeling that it held the answers I was seeking. It was a diary of 2015. The diary of a fifteen-year-old Mitchell. It piqued my interest. I opened the diary and looked at the first page. Mitchell Smith was written in Mitchell's familiar sloppy handwriting with a small passport size photo attached at the top right corner. Mitchell in her early teens was smiling shyly at the camera. I brushed off a lone tear that escaped involuntarily and quickly dropped the diary into my bag. The feeling of unfairness of all this overwhelmed me again.

I arranged all the things in the trunk neatly. I found what I was looking for. Now was the time to hope that the diary would contain what I thought it would contain.