Danielle
Tina knocks lightly on my bedroom door before walking in. I’ve been sitting in the armchair by the window, staring out for the last four hours.
“Elle, sweetie, it’s the middle of the night,” she says, her voice husky from sleep. “Have you even gone to bed?”
I shake my head. “What are you doing up? I haven’t made any noise.”
“No,” she says, lifting a bottle of water. “I got thirsty.”
I nod and let my gaze drift back to the moonlight outside the window. With the lights on, the only thing I see is my reflection—puffy, red eyes, disheveled hair, blotchy skin, and a look that says I’m lost. It’s one I recognize far too well. I might be twenty-four years old, but on a night like tonight, I feel like that lost little girl who got left behind while my little sister got taken.
Always wondering if she’d been rescued, or if she was thrown into a situation like so many before. Only this time, I wasn’t there to save her.
"Elle," she begins gently, not wanting to set me off again. "Remember when we were at the park?"
"That seems like a lifetime ago," I say, giving her a slight smile. "I can't believe that was just hours ago."
"Remember how happy Beth looked?"
The question throws me. I’ve been so busy thinking about the last ten years without my sister, I didn’t stop to think about the ten years of her life without me.
I nod, recalling the vibrant, competitive, strong teenager I saw out on the field. "She was fearless," I finally say.
"Exactly," Tina says, letting a smile form on her lips. "She's healthy. Happy. Cal told you about his little sister. She is living a full life, Elle. That has to count for something."
The mention of Cal’s name tightens my chest until I can’t breathe.
"You know," I begin, forcing myself to put Cal on the backburner for now, "before Izzy and I got separated, I'd read her a bedtime story every night. Even if our foster parents didn't have any children's books, I'd make up my own. Those were the best. They always involved characters who had the life we could only dream about—parents who loved them, a swing set in the backyard, trips to the park, friendships that lasted years, and a brother. We always wanted a brother. A tall, strong brother who would fight for us and keep us safe."
"Elle," Tina cuts in gently, "Izzy got all that, and more. You can rest assured now that what you imagined for the last ten years was only a bad dream. The reality is a bright one, filled with everything in those stories you made up."
"The story didn’t include me," I say bitterly. "I’m thankful Izzy got the life we dreamed about, but I had to survive alone."
"Oh, Elle," Tina whispers, her tone filled with pity.
"I'm grateful—thankful that she got the love, safety, and peace we both prayed for," I say. "When she got old enough to understand cruelty, we would pray every day that things would get better. That our grandfather would change his mind. That we could move in with him and live happily ever after. As a teenager, I knew better. I no longer believed in fairy tales. But as a four-year-old, Izzy always believed that tomorrow would be better. I'm glad tomorrow came for her."
"It did," Tina says, her eyes filling with the tears I refuse to shed for myself. "But it never came for you."
"No," I say, meeting her gaze. "Why didn’t they want me?"
"I don’t know," Tina says, wrapping her arms around me as the first tear escapes and rolls down my cheek.
***
"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Tina asks, taking one last bite of her toast before getting up and rushing to the door.
"I'll be fine," I say. "I'm going to go over Dawson's report."
"Okay," she says. "Call me if you need anything. I might be pulling a double shift, so I’ll be home late."
I nod. "Thank you," I say, offering her a weak smile.
"You're welcome," she replies, slinging her purse over her shoulder and heading out. I hear the soft click of the lock turning before I shift my focus to the laptop sitting on the table in front of me.
My hands tremble as I open the email. The subject line reads,Final Report – Hazel Elizabeth Hartman.
My heart thuds.
