Pacing seemed fruitless of an attempt to calm the ever-racing nerves of Mrs. Stevens.

Click, click, click.

Her heels drummed against the shimmering stone of the police department's floor, doing practically nothing for the atmosphere in the room.

It was stuffy, tight. You could barely breathe without Mrs. Stevens jumping on you, demanding as to why you're not doing your job in finding her daughter. She was frantic; hair which was once piled neatly on her head scraggly and askew, odd curls flowing past her shoulders. Skin tight and lips red from the pressure of her teeth, 'mess' was an understatement when applied to the woman.

Click, click, click.

"Darling, please. Just take a seat." Her husband - Mr. Stevens, a man who sat quietly and clutched a bear belonging to his daughter tightly - stood slowly. He reached out, fingers light as his unoccupied hand enclosed around his wife's arm...

And she growled at him.

"Don't 'darling' me!" With a snake like hiss, Mrs. Stevens yanks her arm away from the comforting touch of her husband. "My baby is missing!"

For only a second, the horrible clicking of her shoes ceased.

Until it was back again, only this time more rapid and heart wrenching.

Click, click, click... click click click.

It was figures of eights; pretty patterns skaters drew into the ice, being indented into the floor by the frantic pacing of a worrying mother.

"Look, it's only been a few days." He lifts the bear closer to his face, lips brushing the worn fluff of its fur. Her scent was engraved into it, and it was oddly calming for the older man. "I bet that our Bebe is at Red's house, giggling with Lola and talking trash about her fellow students."

The click of her tongue is harsh, insulting. "Don't be fucking stupid." Mr. Stevens flinches at her tone; sharp and hurtful, cutting into his stomach like a knife. "She would have texted us."

"Maybe she forgot?" The crack in his voice... it caused an officer near by to shiver.

Mrs. Stevens caught it, eyes honing in on the youngest officer. He had his arms wrapped around himself, gulping and blinking away. Glaring, she was ready to march up and demand this man do her job, only to stop.

The clicks ceased, now replaced with her heavy breathing.

In, out. In, out.

"Do you take her for a fool?" She was whispering now, and Mr. Stevens didn't know if he found that more or less menacing. "Our Bebe, she's clever. Smart. She would not worry us sick like this."

"Exactly. She's smart." He was picking his words very carefully, still holding the bear and wishing it were his daughter instead. "Meaning, she's not been kidnapped. Bebe would not go down without a fight, not unless it was against someone she loved."

"She has been kidnapped." Mrs. Stevens' breathing was matching her heart rate, meaning it was getting horribly fast. "And there he is, not doing anything!"

A long, slim finger jabbed in the direction of the youngest cop, who was quietly crying into his hands. Like a predator on its prey, Mrs. Stevens pounced.

Stumbling, foot jerking to the side in her heels, she raced toward the younger's desk.

Not a word left her lips. Watching and listening to his sobs causes her eye to twitch, and she raises her hands far above her head.

He was crying, for her daughter! Why the fuck would he do that?! He wasn't allowed to shed tears for her! He wasn't supposed to cry and weep, she was supposed to do that!

But here she was, forcing the other officers to do their job while this fuck was sobbing.

She lets her hands fall.

Thwack!

With the sheer force, his keyboard leaps into the air and lands lopsidedly. The crying man- no, boy, he was no man, jerks up. Puffy, red and leaking with tears, his eyes find Mrs. Stevens.

And she notices how young he truly is.

Boyish looks still linger on his face, or the parts which aren't covered in a large bandage. For a second, Mrs. Stevens wonders what is beneath, only to realise her daughter is far more important. Hair which is either light brown or dark blond cascades past his ears, covering parts of his forehead.

Trembling lips and a quivering chin anger the mother, and she finds her hands morphing into tight fists.

His young face and wide eyes didn't cease any of her anger, and she found herself actually sneering at the officer.

"Stop fucking crying. Do your job. Find my baby." She orders him, the urge to punch him in his already damaged face (the bruise under his left eye hasn't registered until now) building in her veins.

He whimpers. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I am. It's just, I knew her an' it's really takin' a toll on me." Sniffing, he tears a tissue out of the box and scrubs it against his nose.

Mrs. Stevens raises a brow.

Knew Bebe?

Taking another gander at his features, she doesn't recognise anything. Perhaps it's the shadow cast over his face from the hat, or maybe even the bandage hiding half his skin.

Going with the former, Mrs. Stevens reaches out to remove the article of clothing... and he flinches away.

Eyes clench shut, jaw tight, hands grasping at his upper arms. "Please, don' hurt me."

Taken aback for only a second, Mrs. Stevens then proceeds to reach out again and remove the hat.

Which caused her to recognise him instantly.

The rest of his blond-brown hair flops forward, falling in his eyes and making him appear horribly innocent and small.

"Kevin McCormick." She whispers, and unlike the tone with her husband it's soft.

Kevin McCormick, Kenneth's brother.

The broken boy.

Mrs. Stevens remembers how Bebe had brought him home, beaten and bruised like an apple. Remembers how she ran him a bath and ensured it wasn't too hot or too cold, and how Bebe (with her mother's help, of course) dressed his wounds and cared for him.

That's when the guilt grabs her heart, and squeezes.

How could she raise a hand to an abuse victim? How could she reach out to him and not think twice?

Disgusted with herself, Mrs. Stevens finds herself apologising.

"Kevin, dear, I'm so sorry. If I'd known it was you, I would have never-"

His eyes slowly open, and he brushes the hair from his forehead. "It's okay. You're scared. I am too." With a gulp, Kevin looks up at Mrs. Stevens. "But I'm also concerned, startled and worried. I wan' to take her case, lead it."

His accented voice screams with confidence as he raises from his seat. He no longer has to look up at Mrs. Stevens, as they're now perfectly eye level.

"I wan' to find your daughter, my friend." He then gulps, and Mrs. Stevens watches as he deflates slightly. "If you're willing to allow it, Ma'am."

She doesn't know how or why, but she the anger has drained out of her system. Mrs. Stevens simply nods, before walking back to her previous position.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Then, she falls down beside her husband. Resting her head against his shoulder and snuggling closer, she allows herself to cry for her child.

Her missing child.

----------------------------------------------------

I think I'm going to alternate between third and first person considering how ambitious I feel.

And yes, Kevin is here now.

Also, with the whole Melanie controversy, I really don't have an opinion. I barely listen to her music anymore, so I didn't really have a reaction other than 'oh'.

So until anything else happens, I'm a neutral party.

Thoughts would be nice ig