If I Go Missing (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1:

The sun shone down, burning Sara’s shoulders to the point where it was beginning to be painful. She rummaged through her backpack, searching for the sunscreen she always kept with her. Depositing a generous amount, she reapplied it to her shoulders which were already turning red. After she was protected from the UV rays, she turned her attention back to the wall on the far side of town. Just like she had for every day for the majority of her life, she was face to face with her best friend, Molly. Her ethereal smile, breaking through, captivating every person who walked by, making them feel compelled to stop.

It was why they chose that picture of her to put on her missing person flyer.

Sara had said goodbye to her best friend, who had promised to be over after she got off of her after-school job, but the hours passed and Molly never showed. It wasn’t till nearly midnight when her own mother woke her to the sound of Molly’s panicked parents asking if she had recently talked to her.

Sara gave them all the information she had and she repeated it to the officers the next morning. The last time she saw Molly was when they were leaving their high school. She promised she would be over later that night to watch the latest bachelor episode, but she never came and Sara assumed she forgot. That she fell asleep or got side-tracked with her boyfriend. She never thought she could actually be missing.

But after exhausting all possible answers, only one remained: Molly Thompson had vanished.

That was two weeks ago and, in between then and now, the only thing that had been found was her car pulled off on a side road. Her backpack missing, her phone was gone, and no sign of the missing seventeen-year-old. Her bank account had not been touched, her phone had not pinged a signal since that afternoon and not a single person had come forward to say they had seen the young blonde teenager—or none with substance. Many had called saying Molly had been spotted in the next town over, the next county, the next state, but none of the calls led to the return of the only child of Mr. and Mrs. Thompson.

Molly’s parents were beside themselves with grief. They went on every news network that would take their story, telling the world of their perfect daughter and how they just want her back. They pled with whoever took her to return her, no matter what. They would pay any ransom and even put up a reward for information. As time passed so did the amount, starting at ten thousand, then moving to twenty-five thousand and by the time Sara hung her best friends face on the furthest wall of Bedford, Illinois the number at the bottom of the flyer read five-hundred thousand for any information regarding the disappearance of Molly Thompson.

The police were convinced she was a runaway, even though Sara, Molly’s parents, and her boyfriend, Jake, assured detectives that it was completely uncharacteristic for Molly to just disappear. She had never done anything like this. “She always calls,” her mother pleaded, “Even if she’s going to be just five minutes late. She always lets us know what she is doing and who she is with.” Even though, police had different ideas on what happened. When asked how she could survive without using her credit cards Officer Jenkins replied that “she worked as a server at a local diner. She received cash payouts and it’s not impossible for her to have saved up the cash and is using that as her means of support.” Though, the majority of the town disagreed.

Bedford Illinois was not a large town by any means. You could wake up, walk the perimeter of the town and still have enough time to make it to your first-period class. Sara had done just that every day that week. She hung posters up and then took them down and hung the replacements up when it had rained, or the reward price was increased. She went to neighboring towns and even crossed the state line once to hang posters with the missing teenager.

“You need to sleep.” Her mother told her as Sara headed out early one morning to walk the path Molly had taken, just in case the detectives missed anything. “I can’t sleep until I know she’s safe,” Sara responded, downing another mug of coffee and walking out her front door. She vowed she wouldn’t rest until Molly was back, but every day that ended brought more and more doubt into her head.

What if Molly didn’t want to be found?

What if she did?

Her mind raced through every possible outcome, none of which she liked and she tried not to think about most of them. She focused only on what she knew. That Molly disappeared somewhere on the west side of town on the only road that lead out to the city. She disappeared sometime between 3:30 and 4:45 in the afternoon. Her car was facing west as if she was returning home from her shift at the diner, but Carol, the owner, had said she called out that day. “It was unusual for her to skip a shift. She was always the one we could depend on. When I got the text from her, I thought she was just feeling unwell, now I'm worried it was something more serious.”

Reaching into her bag she grabbed the final few posters and stapled them to the wooden poll outside the entrance of Ginsberg High School. The three posters encircled the poll so no matter what way you looked at it, you would be given the constant reminder that Molly was still missing. Sara played with the idea of skipping the first period and going to hang flyers in the next town over. The reward had gone up since the last time she had hung the posters and it might be beneficial to keep everything the same. Or at least that’s what she told herself. She knew she wasn’t able to concentrate on anything but getting Molly home safe. She had just about made up her mind to skip when she saw Jake.

Khakis and a pressed shirt he looked like the definitions of a preacher’s son—which is exactly what he was. Son of the local preacher Jake spent most nights and weekends at the church helping his father prepare for the service. A job he no doubt was going to take over once his father retired.

“Sara,” he called as he approached her, “I thought that was you.” He wrapped his arms around her for the briefest of seconds before backing up. “How are you holding up?” he had security in his dark brown eyes that made you want to confess your deepest secrets.

“I’ve been...okay.” She responded hesitantly, “It’s been hard. Really, really hard.”

“I know the feeling.” He sighed.

“I just... I can’t stop thinking. Thinking about everything that happened and everything that will happen and how much longer we have to wait. Did they tell you anything?”

“No,” he sighed again, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up only slightly, before running it through again and returning it to its original place. “I was in holding for eight hours but they wouldn’t give me anything. Or, not anything that wasn’t already known.”

“They refuse to give me anything. I’ve called every day since she went missing. Detective Harris won’t even take my calls anymore. All I do is just leave him messages he never returns.”

“They think she’s a runaway.”

“But she’s not. Molly is the last person to do that. What would she even be running from?”

“Did she say anything to you? When you last spoke? Like anything out of the ordinary?”

“No,” Sara thought for a moment longer but knew it was futile since she had revisited the moment at least a few thousand times since she found out Molly went missing. “It was normal. She was going to Surge for her shift and then she was going to come to my place. She didn’t come so I texted her, but I just figure she was with you or got hung up with her dad.”

“Yeah. She’s been spending as much time with him as she can.”

“It’s been rough on her.”

“But she’s strong,” he paused for a brief moment taking in a deep breath, “I know she’s out there. We just have to find her.”

Sara blinked fast to keep the tears at bay and when that didn’t work, she used the scrunchie on her wrist to dab away at the water before they could get fully out. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze and the two walked up the steps as the second bell rang.

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The clicking of the pen followed the beat of the song flowing through her headphones as Sara’s still uncompleted chemistry homework laid in front of her. She sat at her desk nearly an hour ago but concentration was not on her side. Or, it was not that it wasn’t on her side, it was that it couldn’t be channeled into the task at hand. Unless that task was Molly-related.

She slumped down in her chair admitting defeat. Ripping out her headphones she didn’t even bother turning the music off and it carried on in a muffled tone throughout the room.

Every class Molly was in had yet to remove her seat and it was doubtful that it would ever be filled. Everyone saying that it was hers until she came back. Even if no one believed it. As the days passed less and less held on hope that the high school junior would return. Some believed she did run away, that the stress of her father’s health was too much. That she had a breakdown and left.

Others were grimmer. That she was taken against her will. Kidnapped... but for what? No ransom was asked for, even though her family could afford a large sum. For personal gain? Most people tried not to think about the young girl being sold into a trafficking ring or locked away in a dark cellar, but then only one choice remained.

And no one wanted to think about that one.

Sara stripped the sheets off her bed and put on fresh ones before jumping in the shower. Washing away any thoughts about the last option out of her head. But only for another choice to fill it and she had to scrub away that one. Rinse and repeat she did this process for the next hour until her fingers pruned and the water turned cold.

She wrapped a towel around her body and returned to her room. Putting on a fresh set of leggings and an oversized t-shirt she took the hair tie off her wrist to wrap up her hair but it snapped, flying across the room. She let go of her hair feeling the wet strands hit her back as she searched for a new hair tie.

She opened her desk drawer to the fresh pack she bought a few days ago and her heart skipped a few beats before kicking into high gear.

Tucked away in the corner was the letter Molly had written to her for her birthday last year. She couldn’t stop herself from dragging her hands over the paper. Opening the card up she read the words her best friend had written in her perfect penmanship—the only one who took cursive seriously when they were learning it in elementary school. Sara laughed at Molly bring up multiple inside jokes throughout the card and how the card exploded glitter when she opened it the first time. In fact, the glitter still remained on parts of the paper. She clutched the card close to her heart as the tears she had tried to keep at bay tumbled out.

She stood in silence as the memories flooded through her. What if this was the last thing, she would ever receive from her? She didn’t want to think of it, but she didn’t want to forget it either. Sara’s eyes broke open and she remembered something she hadn’t thought of in years.

Her memory box.

Tucked in the broken frame of her chest she had kept a small shoebox where her most important memories were kept. Her first concert tickets, poems she wrote that she was once certain were going to be worth thousands one day, photos of her late father, and the love letters she had exchanged with her middle school boyfriends, which was also the last time she had opened the box.

She hadn’t much need for it over the years and it was always such a pain to get since the box could only be inserted and taken out at a particular angle, but nonetheless, if anything was worth being in the box it was this card.

Opening the chest, she removed the extra pillows and blankets she stored in there and felt for the hidden flap. Grabbing a hold of the box she maneuvered it carefully out of its resting place and set it on her lap. She opened up the box and her brows furled in confusion.

On top of the pile of letters and photos was a small green folder. She was sure she didn’t put this in here, in fact, she had no clue what it could even be until she looked at the top corner and her breath caught in her throat.

In impeccable cursive, that matched the card in her hand read:

If I go Missing