It’s like a seventeen-year-old girl walked out of this room this morning and was expected back after school. It’s kind of creepy. I should feel at ease in my old room, but I think I’d be more comfortable in Connor’s-old-room-turned-guest-bedroom.
Something’s missing though—or a few somethings. All have to do with a certain person. The pictures of Torrin are missing from my nightstand. The soccer trophies he gave me are gone from the windowsill. The corsages from the dances we went to together have disappeared.
They held on to me—but they let him go.
Except for the stuffed elephant sandwiched into the stuffed animal pile on the chair. Torrin won it for me at the fair that fall I’d been taken, but they didn’t know that.
That’s the first place I wander toward. I pull the elephant free of the other animals and look at it. I’m sure it hasn’t changed—it’s an inanimate object after all—but it doesn’t feel as soft. Its face isn’t as sweet as I remember it being.
When I hug it, it doesn’t make me smile and get ready to fall asleep.
I hear footsteps climbing the stairs. From the lightness of them, I guess they’re my mom’s. She’s probably coming to check on me, but I’m not ready for her. I’m not ready for any of them really. I’m not ready for this.
I close my door before she reaches the hall.
“SHE’S GONE. I can’t find her. No one can find her.”
That’s the first thing I hear as I wake up the next morning—my mom’s frantic voice, her footsteps matching.
“We’ve looked everywhere and nothing. Oh my god, it’s happened again, hasn’t it? Someone’s taken her?” She chokes on her words. “We’re never going to see our baby again.”
I blink, but it’s dark. Except for the slice of light coming from beneath the door, I can’t see anything.
Another set of footsteps moves with my mom’s. These are less hysterical and more pronounced sounding. I hear them stop outside the door, and I start to sit up. The sleeping bag slides down me.
The door gently slides open, and light blinds me for a second. When I can see again, I see him. He’s crouching in front of me, his head brushing the bottoms of my sweaters and shirts hanging in my closet.
“She’s here,” he calls to my mom, who comes rushing into the room. Her eyes are red, and her foundation’s messy from the tears she’s crying. He clasps his hands in front of him and smiles at me. “Cozy in there?”
I sit up a little more and rub my lower back. I can practically feel the impression the sneaker left there from sleeping on it for so long. I rest my back on the side of the closet. “What time is it?”
My mom hovers over Torrin, looking at me with her red, puffy face.
“Time to get up and start the day.” Torrin checks the watch on his wrist.
It looks like it’s almost ten o’clock, which is really late for me to sleep in. Although if you count actual sleep time, I only got five hours.
“What are you doing in there, Jade?” Mom scans the sleeping bag and sees the pillow. She looks almost horrified. “Did you sleep in there? All night?”
I shrug. “Some of it.”
“Why?” she asks.
“My bed”—I nod toward it—“was too soft or something. I couldn’t sleep.”
She looks back at my bed. Nothing’s been disturbed on it.
Torrin doesn’t look back because I think he knows. I think he understands that I couldn’t just crawl into my old queen bed and fall fast asleep on my first night home. It was too open. Too exposed. Right now, the closet is more comfortable than the bed.
“Are you hungry? I saved some breakfast for you.”
I haven’t really eaten anything since I was found. I’m not hungry though. “No, thanks. Maybe later,” I add when I notice her frown. I know she’s trying to help—I know she wants to help—but the thing is, none of it actually helps. “I’m sorry if I scared everyone hiding out in here. If I’d heard you come in earlier, I would have said something, but I must have passed out pretty hard.”
Mom bites her lip, still watching me like I might disappear. Then she straightens up. “I’ll give you two a minute. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” She pats Torrin’s shoulder a few times. “Thank you for finding her.”
Torrin watches her leave the room. He’s in the same clothes as yesterday, and that white square looks extra bright today. They must bleach the hell out of those things because I’ve never seen anything so white. It doesn’t seem possible it could stay so clean.
“You need a cell phone,” he says like he didn’t just find me stuffed in a closet like a scared little child.
“Why?” I reply.
“Because I called last night to check in, and when I asked if I could speak to you, your dad told me to do something to myself I’m pretty sure would be frowned upon in my profession.”
I tore off the bandages around my neck last night, and even though he’s not staring at the blend of scar and scab, I can tell he’s having to force himself not to. I lift the corner of the sleeping bag and tuck it under my chin. “Well, you made it through the door this morning. No bullet holes from the looks of it.”
“I made it in because your dad’s at work and your mom called me when she couldn’t find you.” He’s freshly shaven today, unlike the serious shadow he had yesterday, and for some reason, this makes him seem even more priest-like. “I fully intend to be out of this house when your dad gets home from work because hollow points just aren’t a good look on me.”