“What did you find out?”

I closed the front door behind me and forced myself to meet the expectant and frightened gazes of my parents.  They were staring at me like they didn’t know whether or not they were ready to hear what I had to say.  And, at this point, I wasn’t sure they ready to or not either.

But I had to tell them.  No one else seemed to be willing, and they had the right to know.

“Skylar,” my mom whispered when I took too long to answer.  “Skylar, what is it?  Did they tell you anything?”

I let out a long sigh, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.  “Yeah,” I said, letting my hand fall.  My throat felt thick, and for a moment I wondered if I was going to be able to tell them after all.  “Well, the lead detective on the case didn’t want to tell me anything, but Brandon did.”

My mom blinked in surprise at the mention of Brandon’s name, but didn’t comment on it.  Instead, she grabbed onto my dad’s hand and gripped it tightly, a deep-set frown on her face as she demanded, “What did Brandon say?”

I nodded toward the living room, chewing on my cheek.  “Let’s talk in there, all right?” I said softly.

My parents nodded, but from the expressions on their faces, I knew that they were just itching to yell for me to get on with it.  I wanted to just tell them—I really wanted to.  But I needed these spare few seconds to find a way to say what I needed to say.

All the way home, I'd struggled to find a way to tell them what I was about to tell them.  I had to; I knew that.  But how could I word it in a way that didn’t sound as awful as it really was?

There was no way.

“They have three suspects,” I began as my mom and dad settled onto the couch.  They stared up at me.  I swallowed when I saw the teary expression on my mom’s face. 

“Who are they?” my dad demanded.  I glanced down and saw his hand clenched into a fist.  What was he going to do when he found out his daughter had been stolen by serial killers?

My eyes burned as I fought back tears.  My sister had been kidnapped by serial killers.  Serial killers.  What were they doing to her right now?  Had they already finished what they planned on doing?

“They don’t know their names.”  I crossed my arms over my chest, my nails digging into my skin.  “But they have a general idea of who they are.”

“How do they know who the suspects are if they don’t know their names?” my mom asked.  I inwardly winced as her voice shook.  “I don’t understand.”

I took a moment to answer.  How was I going to say this?  There was no real way to sugarcoat it.  And my parents weren’t the type of people to appreciate sugarcoating anyway.  “They believe that the people who stole Serenity are serial killers,” I said finally, knowing that being blunt was the only way to go.  I sighed shakily.  “They kidnap twenty teens around the state, bring them to an abandoned building filled with their earlier victims’ stuff, and then they kill them all one by one.”

For a moment it was silent.

And then my mom began to sob.

“My baby,” she cried.  “No, no, no, no; not my baby.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 

“It’s not your fault, son.”  My dad glared at the far wall as he wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her to him.  She collapsed into his chest easily, her body shaking as the tears streamed down her cheeks.  “It’s not your fault.”

I nodded, swiping at my cheek as a tear fell. 

“How long does she have?” my mom demanded suddenly.  She snapped upward, her eyes unwavering as she stared me down.  When she caught the stricken expression on my face, she let out another sob.  “Skylar, please—” She cut off as another cry took her hostage.  “Please tell—me.”

“Not long,” I admitted, my voice shaky to my own ears.  “They have the night.”

My mom shook her head.  “No,” she moaned.  “No.”

“Skylar, why don’t you go see how your brother and sister are doing?” his dad murmured, his voice soft, but his tone stern.  He gave me a pleading look.  “Please go see if they’re all right.”

I nodded, and, after a short moment of hesitation, stepped out of the room.  I wanted to stay and comfort my mom in any way that I could, but I knew that the only person who had the ability to comfort her was my dad.  And the likelihood of my dad comforting her was slim.  How could anyone be comforted in this sort of situation?

I paused in the hallway as my mom let out another heart-wrenching sob.  I tensed, my jaw working as I listened to my mom cry.  “Why did they do this?” I heard her demand thickly.  “Why did they do this to my baby?”

“I don’t know, honey,” my dad replied.  “I don’t know.”

“She’s a good girl,” my mom continued.  “She’s never done anything to deserve this.  Never.  And they took her—they took her away—from me—from us.”

Her words became unintelligible after that, and I forced myself to turn and head down the hallway, toward Angie’s room.  I wondered what Angie and Tommy were doing right now.  Had they both fallen asleep while waiting for news?  I didn’t have a hard time believing that Tommy would be asleep—it was way past his bedtime.  Angie, on the other hand, I doubted would be sleeping.  My parents had a hard enough time getting her to go to bed on any normal night.  She would not fall asleep when Serenity was missing.  She would stay awake until her sister was brought home.

Once I reached her doorway, I didn’t hesitate before opening Angie’s door and stepping inside.  There, I found Tommy and Angie on Angie’s bed, Tommy in Angie’s lap and Angie’s arms wrapped securely around him as they both watched whatever it was they were watching on Netflix.  They both looked up as I entered, eyes wide.

“Skylar!” Tommy exclaimed, wriggling out of Angie’s grip and running over to me.  He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tightly.  “Did they find her yet?  Is she home?”       

“Not yet, little man,” I murmured, crouching so that I could hug my brother properly.  When I pulled away, I could see the fear in Tommy’s eyes.  Tommy had always reminded me of myself.  Not just because we seemed to hold the same interests, but because, unlike the rest of our family, Tommy and I were both blond.  Of course, with Tommy it was hard to tell—he always had his hair buzz cut.  However, tonight Tommy reminded me of myself because of something else.  There was just something about the way he held himself together…

“They haven’t found her yet?”

I stood up straight and met Angie’s eyes, my stomach dropping when I saw fear in her eyes, too.  “No,” I replied softly, shaking my head.  “They haven’t.”

“Well, do they have any idea what’s going on?” Angie demanded, shoving her computer to the side as she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.  Her brunette curls, which she usually had straightened “because her hair was so damn frizzy” was pulled back in a messy bun.  She brought a hand through them as she continued, “Any idea at all?”

I paused before answering.  While I believed that we had the right to know what was going on, I had no idea if Angie would be able to handle this kind of information.  She was strong, I knew that.  But she was still only thirteen.  “No,” I lied.  “But I’m sure they’ll find her soon.”

Angie’s eyes narrowed.  “You’re sure?” she pressed.  “One-hundred percent?”

I glanced at Tommy, who was giving me one of his wide-eyed, expectant looks.  “Yes,” I said, turning back to look at Angie.  “I’m sure.”

Angie clearly didn’t believe me, but she nodded anyway.  “’Kay,” she said.

“How are you guys holding up?” I asked, scratching an itch on my cheek.

“Depends,’” Angie replied.  “Have we broken down and cried yet?  No, not really.  Well—” Tommy glared at her, and she cut off suddenly, clearing her throat.  “But we’re still not okay.  Serenity is missing, Skylar.”

“I know,” I murmured.  I felt my throat tighten.  “I didn’t ask if you were okay, Ang.  That would be a stupid question.  I meant, given the circumstances, are you surviving?”

Angie’s teeth dug into her lip as she cast a quick glance at Tommy.  Her eyes dragged their way over to me before saying, “Yes.”

I could tell that Angie wanted to say more on the subject, but she didn’t trust herself to say anything in front of Tommy.  I wanted to hug her badly, but the expression on her face kept me from doing so.  I knew she wouldn’t appreciate it, and she’d probably just push me away. 

“I miss Ren,” Tommy whimpered.  “I want her to come home.”

I brought my brother into my arms again, hugging him tightly.  I rubbed comforting circles on Tommy’s back as I said, “We all do, little man.  She’ll be home before you know it.”

“What if she won't?” Tommy asked, his bottom lip trembling. 

“She will,” I assured him.  I pulled Tommy away from me and held him at arm’s distance.  “I know this is really scary—I’m scared too—but we need to remember that this is Serenity.  She’s a smart girl and brave.  She’ll be fine.”

I felt like acid was burning my throat as the lie tumbled out of my mouth.  While I knew that Serenity was smart and brave, I had no way of knowing if she was still alive or not, let alone if she was going to be fine.  Even as the words escaped me, I couldn’t help but mentally argue, “But what if she isn’t?  What if they’ve killed her already?”

“I’ll be right back, okay?” I said, straightening up and turning back for the door.  “Just continue what you’re watching, and I’ll be right back to watch it with you.”

Tommy nodded and hopped back onto the bed, but Angie hesitated.  I could feel her eyes on me as I exited the room, and I had to resist the urge to look back at her.  However, as it turned out, I didn’t really have to.

“Skylar,” she called.  “Hold on.”

I twisted around, eyes wide.  There was something in her voice that made something inside of me break.  She sounded so lost, so…

“I need to talk to you for a minute,” she continued, walking forward and grabbing onto my arm.  I allowed myself to be pulled into the hall, watching as she closed the door behind us. 

“Ang?” I said softly, observing Angie’s facial expression as she hesitated.

“I—” She shook her head, sighing shakily.  To my surprise, she swatted a tear off her face, sniffling.  I'd only seen Angie cry on a few occasions—all of which when she was an infant.  “What do you know?” she demanded, her watery gaze meeting mine.  “You know something, and you were afraid to say it in front of Tommy.  Do you know who took her?”

“No,” I said.  “I don’t know who took her, exactly.  They have a lead and three suspects, but that’s all I can say.”

“Why is that all you can say?” Angie cried, a couple more tears trailing down her cheeks.  “Skylar, you’re not her only sibling.  She’s my sister.  I need to know what’s going on—”

“I don’t know if Mom and Dad would want me to tell you,” I whispered, cutting her off before she could rant any further.  I was already feeling guilty for keeping her in the dark as it was.  “This isn’t something that I know you can handle, Ang.  I know you’re strong—stronger than any of us, really—but you’re still only—”

“I might only be thirteen, but I’m not a child,” Angie hissed.  She was crying freely now, her face flushing as the tears fell from her face and onto her shirt.  “I don’t care how mentally scarring it is.  She’s my sister, I love her, and I want to know what’s going on.  What are the chances that she’s alive?  Huh?”

I didn’t answer at first.  I didn’t know how.  “Angie, I know that you love Serenity.  We all do.  But I am not going to tell you without knowing that it’s the right thing to do.  Go ask Dad.”  When I saw the angered expression on Angie’s face, I pleaded, “Please.”

Angie’s eyes searched my face for a few moments before she nodded.  “Fine,” she muttered.  “But at least tell me how likely it is that she’s going to make it through the night.”

“The odds are against her,” I admitted softly.  I tore my gaze away from Angie, my jaw working as I stared at the wall to her left.  “But she’s Serenity.”

“Yes, she’s Serenity,” Angie whispered.  “But we have no idea how she would react in this sort of situation.  We’d like to think that she would keep her head and fight her way out, but none of us really know how we would handle a situation like the one she’s in now.  I don’t know what the hell she’s going through, but I do know that it’s not like getting lost in the mall.  We’ve never really been introduced to the kind of fear she’s probably going through right now.  We don’t know anything.  Anything.”

In that instant, I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed past my feelings of apprehension and brought Angie into my arms.  She lay limp for a moment, as though she wasn’t ready to admit that she needed support, but then her arms wrapped around me and she squeezed me tightly, weeping freely into my shirt. 

For a moment we just stood there, hugging each other. No one spoke. I wanted to say something to ease her pain, but what could I say? I knew I had to say something, but--

“Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay,” Angie said before I could open my mouth.  “Please don’t.”

“Okay,” I murmured, my grip tightening.  “I won’t tell you.”

“And don’t tell anyone I cried,” Angie muttered, her grip loosening.  I took it as a sign that she was ready for the hug to be over, and my thought was proven correctly when she withdrew her arms completely.  She wiped her eyes, sniffing.  “I don’t want anyone to know, okay?  I’m not a crier.”

“It’s okay to cry,” I told her.  “Especially in a situation like this.  You don’t have to be brave all the time, you know.”

“Oh, please.”  Angie laughed bitterly.  “They say that all the time in books and movies.”

“That’s because it’s true.”  I tried to smile but couldn’t quite force my lips upward.  “You’re ridiculously strong for a thirteen-year-old, and that’s fine.  But you’re allowed to cry, Ang.  No one will judge you for crying over the fact that your sister is missing and you’re scared.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not worried about others judging me,” Angie muttered.  “I’m worried about what I’ll think of myself afterward.”

I wanted to say something in order to comfort her, but Angie shrugged past me and headed into the living room, where she’d probably ask to speak to our dad privately.  I wondered if our dad would tell her anything.  I didn’t know which I'd rather have.  While knowing what was going on threatened hysteria, not knowing could bring the same result.  And, with Angie, I honestly didn’t know which would be worse. 

There was one thing I did know though: I knew that I hoped to God that Angie was wrong, and that Serenity wouldn’t lose herself to whatever fear she was going through.  I prayed to God that she stayed strong, because I didn’t know what I would do if I lost her.

“Please be alive,” I whispered.  “Please.”