But it’s not. It’s real.
A sob escapes me, ragged and desperate, and it fills the room, echoing against the walls. I want to scream. But I can’t. It’s all gone, and I’m left here, broken.
A thought slips through my mind, dark and poisonous.
It’s my fault. If I hadn’t called him to pick me up, he would still be here.
Oh my god.
It’s my fault.
The room seems to spin around me; and everything hurts and aches so much, I just want it all to stop. I beg for help. I beg, for once, for the help of anyone.Please take it all away.Please.
My chest feels tight, suffocating, and I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but cry. How long have I been crying? An eternity. A lifetime. It doesn’t matter anymore.
I don’t know how long I cry for. All I know is it hurts.
Addie
Seven years ago
The school bell rings its final chime, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I swear time goes ten times slower in school. So torturously slow. I walk to the spot where my dad always picks me up. The same spot. The same routine. But everything feels different now. He’s been distant lately, quieter.
I settle into the passenger seat, and a sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it. I don’t know why I’m so tired. But I am.
My dad’s voice breaks the silence, soft and warm, like it always is. “How was school, sweetheart?” he asks, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The tone of his voice is the same, but there’s something underneath it. Something I can’t put my finger on.
I look at him, but it’s hard to hold his gaze. “It was the same as always, Dad,” I reply, letting my frustration seep through my words. “Have you already picked up Naomi and Sam?”
“About an hour ago. They’re at home already,” he responds, his voice steady.
I nod, not really hearing him. My mind is already somewhere else. Somewhere far away.
There’s a brief pause, as if my dad is searching for the right words. I can sense the longing in his voice as he asks, “Did you make any new friends today, Addie?”
I can’t suppress a bitter chuckle that escapes my lips. “No, Dad,” I say, my voice tinged with frustration. “You ask me that question every day, and you know I’m always going to give you the same answer.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can see his face fall. I wish I could take the words back.
Well now I feel bad.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling slightly guilty. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
He smiles. “It’s alright, Addie,” he says gently, “I know how hard school can be.”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe. I know what he means. But it’s not just school. It’s everything. The streets outside the window blur, familiar at first, but then they begin to look different. The scenery shifts.
This isn’t the way home.
“Um, Dad,” I begin, my voice uncertain, almost hesitant. “This isn’t the way home, is it?”
He glances at me briefly, his face unreadable. “No, it’s not, Addie,” he replies, his voice steady. “I have to take care of something first. It won’t take long, I promise.”
I want to ask more, to press him, but something in his tone makes me hold back.I trust him.I do. More than anything. So I don’t question it.
The car slows to a stop, and my heart skips a beat. This place… it doesn’t feel right. The streets are dimly lit, shadows pooling in dark corners like something waiting to crawl out. The car is parked near an alley, one I don’t recognize, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Why would he need to go to an alley?
