Array
(
[text] =>

I clutched the steering wheel like my life depended on it, my hands trembling, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. She loves me. She actually loves me! The thought kept crashing over me like a wave, and I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. If I let go, even for a second, I was afraid I'd completely unravel.

My phone buzzed on the dashboard snapping me out of my trance. It was a text from Megan's babysitter confirming everything was under control. Good. One less thing to worry about. But even that didn't slow my pulse. I couldn't think straight. No matter how hard I tried to stay focused, my mind kept circling back to one thing.   

Izzy.

She still loved me.

I kept repeating the words in my head like if I said them enough, maybe they'd feel real. She still loved me. After everything I put her through, after the lies, the distance, the silence, her heart still had a place for me. If there was even the smallest chance she'd take me back, I'd spend the rest of my life making it right. Hell, I'd spend my afterlife making it right.

Seeing her break down like that, seeing her cry because of me ripped something inside me open. Her pain wasn't quiet or soft. It was loud, raw, written all over her face like a scream. And I caused it. I put that look in her eyes.

God, I wanted to punch a hole through a wall. I wanted to punch myself.

I was an idiot, a coward for all the ways I'd failed her. But I couldn't let it end like this. I needed her forgiveness more than air.

When I finally pulled up to her house, my chest was tight with nerves. The afternoon sun hung high, casting sharp, golden light across the long driveway. The iron gates stood tall and still, their dark metal gleaming in the daylight, but they felt no less imposing than they would under moonlight.

The gatekeeper stepped out of his booth like a walking threat, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like I didn't belong there.

"Yes?" he said, voice sharp and clipped.

"Uh—" I scratched the back of my head, trying to steady my breath. The guy looked like he could crush me with just his stare. "Could you open the gate? I—I need to see someone."

"Name?"

"Thomas Reed," I blurted. My fingers twitched at my sides. Every second felt like a year. Why did we have to do this every damn time? He'd seen me before, more than once.

"And your reason for visiting?"

I blinked. Wasn't it obvious? I leaned in, my voice catching. "I need to speak with Isabella Ace."

The man's face twitched slightly. He looked up, something flickering in his eyes. But before he could say anything, a voice crackled through the speaker above us. It was muffled, but unmistakable. John.

"Let him in."

"Yes, sir," he said flatly, stepping aside.

The gatekeeper pressed a button. The iron gates creaked open slowly, each inch feeling heavier than the last. My heart pounded like it was warning me. Here goes nothing.

Let's just hope he doesn't beat me up too badly. I needed to stay recognizable for her.

"Come in." I heard John's voice say behind the door.

I hesitated. Something in his tone was off. Not sharp. Not cold. It was more thick, like grief.

When I stepped in and looked up, I almost stumbled. His face, tear-streaked, eyes swollen red looked nothing like the John I was used to seeing. My stomach twisted.

Did something happen?

I then saw Izzy's mother clutching her little sister as they both sobbed uncontrollably on the couch. The girl was wrapped around Sweets who licked at their hands and whined like she could feel it too.

Next to them, her father stood stiff and broken, eyes glistening, jaw clenched as he tried to stay composed.

I blinked, the weight in my chest growing heavier.

"What... what's going on?" I asked quietly, heart thudding. "Why are you all crying?"

John turned toward me slowly. His voice cracked. "Thomas... I hate to tell you this, but Bell... she's m-missing."

My brain short-circuited.

Missing?

I stared at him, unblinking. The words didn't make sense. They bounced around in my skull, but none of them fit together.

"Izzy? No. She—what?"

John didn't answer. No one did. Only the crying continued, low and endless like it had been going on for hours.

"She can't be missing," I said, forcing a laugh I didn't feel. "You're messing with me, right? This is some kind of punishment or twisted lesson for breaking up with her."

John's face didn't change.

"Why would I joke about something like this?"

The laugh died in my throat.

"No," I whispered. "That's not possible."

She couldn't be missing. Not Izzy. Not the girl with a voice full of fight and a heart too big for her own good. Not with all the guards and cameras and fences. Not with this house.

"She probably just went out for air or... or forgot to tell someone," I said, voice trembling. "She'll be back soon. Right?"

"I'm afraid not," John said, gently. "She's been gone since yesterday. But we just put the pieces together when she didn't come home from school at her usual time."

"No." I shook my head slowly. "That can't be. I just saw her. She was just—" My knees buckled, and I caught myself against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor.

"H-how...?"

Silence swallowed the room. The kind of silence that knew too much.

Finally, John knelt beside me. His voice was steady, but broken underneath.

"She left a note saying she was staying at Amanda's. The gatekeeper let her leave, thinking she had permission. He said she confirmed going to her place but when we called her parents they said they never saw her. She never made it there."

My mouth was dry. My chest burned.

"Did you..." I couldn't get the words out. "Did you call the police?"

"Right before you showed up. They just confirmed her case."

Confirmed. Confirmed.

Everything blurred after that.

The sobs. The distant wails from her mother. The soft, broken whimpers from Sweets. Even the air felt like it had thickened, like I was trying to breathe underwater. My hands wouldn't stop trembling, and my legs felt hollow beneath me.

Izzy's missing.

The words echoed louder each time I thought them, like someone had carved them into my ribs.

"Do you know anyone who could've done this?" I choked out.

John shook his head, his voice heavy. "We don't know... we wish we did. But our family has a lot of enemies, Thomas. It could be anyone."

"I can't believe this is happening again," Mrs. Ace sobbed, her body curled into her husband's chest. "My poor baby... I should've called the school, I should've made sure she got there this morning."

I turned toward her, startled. "Wait—what do you mean again?" My heart stumbled in my chest. "Are you saying... this has happened before?"

She nodded slowly, pain shadowing every movement. "Eight years ago," she whispered. "She was kidnapped as a child."

"Eight years ago?" My mind scrambled to rewind time, flipping through fragments of memory. Then it hit me. "Wait... that couldn't have been around the same time she was caught in that fire, could it?"

She blinked in shock. "That's right. How did you—?"

"My parents... they were the ones who saved her."

Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide. "You're that son?"

I nodded once, not wanting to dwell on it. Not now. "Please, Mrs. Ace... how did she get kidnapped when she was younger?" All this time, I'd never known. I always thought she'd just been a reckless kid who pissed off the wrong people.

She took a shaky breath, folding her hands in her lap like she needed something to hold onto. "She was around nine. She'd gone to the park with Jason... and never came back."

My stomach turned. "Wait. Jason? Jason knew her?"

She gave a small, bittersweet smile. "Jason and Isabella were best friends when they were little. Inseparable. They played together nearly every day."

My throat dried. "Is that... is that why she can't remember anything before the age of ten?"

Her smile vanished. "Yes." Her voice cracked. "Isabella was in a coma for weeks. And when she finally woke up..." she paused, holding back tears, "she didn't remember anything. Not even her name."

"All of her memories," I murmured, "gone."

"Exactly." She nodded, pain etched into every line of her face. "The doctors diagnosed her with psychogenic amnesia due to trauma. After that, we decided to keep her past quiet. We didn't want to risk triggering something that might hurt her again."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't even breathe. My chest ached at the thought of what she'd gone through—what she was still going through. And I... I'd just added to her pain.

"Now," Mrs. Ace said, her voice firming with fresh resolve, "all that matters is finding Isabella."

"Right," I whispered, clenching my fist. Don't worry, Izzy. I swear I'll find you.

"Isabella!" a voice suddenly rang out, frantic. Footsteps pounded against the tile. "Are you here?"

We all turned. Amanda raced down the hallway like a storm, waving her phone in the air. Her face was pale and frantic.

"She's not here," John said, stepping forward.

Amanda's expression crumpled. "That's what I was afraid of."

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Mrs. Ace asked, walking toward her.

Amanda held up her phone like it was proof of life. "She texted asking for help."

Silence crashed over the room like a wave.

"She what?" we all said at once. Every eye was glued to Amanda now, hearts caught in throats.

"Please tell me she's okay," Amanda begged. "That she's—"

"—She's missing," John said quietly.

Amanda's breath caught. "She's what?! No... no, you're joking! This can't be real!"

"I'm sorry," he said. "She's been missing since yesterday. She told us she was staying with you, but we just found out she never made it to your place or to school like she usually did in the past."

Amanda's hands shook as she grabbed fistfuls of John's shirt, desperation pouring from her like a broken dam. "Please tell me you know who took her!"

"We don't," he said grimly.

"Did anyone see anything?" Amanda asked, her voice steady but tight. I could see the storm brewing in her chest, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

John hesitated. "One witness said it was a tall man in a ski mask. That's all we've got."

I clenched my teeth. When I find him, I swear to God, he'll regret ever touching her.

"It's not much," Amanda said, finally releasing John, "but it's something."

Then it hit me. I turned to her sharply. "Wait... you said she texted you just now?"

"Yeah." Amanda blinked. "What about it?"

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers already dialing. "Just give me a second."

"Thomas," she said cautiously, "what are you doing?"

"I'm calling the police," I said, holding the phone to my ear. "If she texted you from her current location, there's a signal. We can trace it using nearby cell towers. I think we just found our way to her."

Banner made by TeensDistrict

[text_hash] => 5ad793e7
)