Oliver

Hello
Do you have the addresses of your colleagues
Because your daughter is missing
And has likely been kidnapped by a teacher
Mr. Loaferd
Oh, sorry, LEADFORD

After that text, I step into the police station, and walk straight over to the counter. A woman's sitting behind it, computer in front of her and glasses on.

"Hi," I greet, forcing her to look up.

"Hi," she says back. "Is there anything I need to report?"

I nod heavily. Pull Mango's leash because she's uncomfortably wandering around the station. "Yes. My best friend is missing."

She clicks on something on her computer. "Since when?"

"Four and a half hours ago."

And she looks back up. "I'm sorry, but someone can only be seen as missing after forty-eight hours—"

"I have looked everywhere in town and she is not there. Besides, I've literally got proof she's been attacked." With a lot of irritation, I show her the ending of the video. "This was after she left her house. That man is a teacher at high school Everdeen and he has always been a creep. Please go help find my friend."

What the hell is she waiting for?

"Can I have the phone? We'll have to analyze the video for clues and—"

"What clues do you need?! His face is literally right there and I'm telling you his name! Is that not enough? Go locate her!"

My rising voice attracts attention from officers. One of them steps out of a room, looks down at Mango, and then up at me. Squints his eyes.

"Are you not that boy who found the married couple Mary and Vince—"

"No," I say fast.

They haven't interviewed me about it and I don't want them to.

The lady from the counter takes a deep breath, her fingers pausing in the air above the keyboard. "Please, we're doing our best, but protocol requires—"

"Screw those!" I interrupt. I have to grip Mango's leash tighter as she starts to growl. "She can be in real danger. You need to act now."

The officer who noticed us steps closer. "Sir, raising your voice won't help. We need to follow procedures to ensure a proper investigation. Now, if you have proof, let us handle it appropriately."

"You don't understand," my voice is trembling with frustration. "Every minute counts. Just look at the video and see what I m—"

"Yes. Let us handle the proof appropriately means handing me the proof," he says calmly, taking the phone from me.

"Meanwhile, fill out this report with any details you have," the woman says, sliding the a form towards me with a nod.

The knot of helplessness tightens in my stomach. Mango whines softly, sensing the feeling. I watch the officer while he has a look at the video. His expression shifts from confusion to concern. He exchanges a look with the woman, who quickly picks up a phone and starts dialing.

"Okay." The officer turns back to me. "We'll send someone to the high school to start looking inside and someone else will look into this teacher. We need you to stay here and fill out this report. Every detail counts."

Even though my heart is racing with impatience, I nod and start scribbling everything down.

Personal Information of Missing Person:
Full name: Viviette Sage Lee
Date Of Birth: 19-03
Gender: Female
Physical description: Korean-American, 5'4", brown eyes, long dark hair, was wearing a red shirt, red cropped cardigan, and wide black-white checkered pants.

Details of the Disappearance:
Date and last time seen: 05-11, around 5:45 PM.
Last known location: Oakridge Hill
Circumstances of disappearance: Argument with best friend, went home for a few minutes, then likely went outside to get something— started filming because of a strange man following her. Video got cut off by him smashing the phone out of her hands.

Contact Information:
Your full name: Thomas Stephen Reyes
Relationship to the missing person: Lifetime best friend, family friend
Contact details: [email protected]

Health and habits:
Medical conditions: None

Additional Information:
Any known enemies or people they've had conflicts with: Me (Thomas), an argument a few minutes before she went missing. Mr. Leadford, the man on the video; her science teacher. Has been a creep before.
Recent significant events in their life: Someone she didn't know moved in, but he's now a friend. A killer has been around. Mr. Leadford locked her up in a classroom with him.
Social media or places they're frequently: Not active on social media except for Pinterest and Instagram. Username: Vi-Sagex. Frequent places: the local sew shop, now closed ice cream bar, and Evergeen High School.

Witness information:
Names and contact details of any witnesses and friends who might have seen or been with the missing person: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected].

Supporting evidence:
Attach any evidence like photos, videos, or text messages: The video that took y'all way too long to accept.

I slide the paper back over to the woman once I'm done. "Can I go now?"

She inspects the paper for a while. "Yes. We will keep you updated. Please just go home instead of bringing yourself into danger."

"Will do." I mutter a goodbye, and then pull Mango outside with me.

Will absolutely not do— what does she think, that I'm a helpless dog waiting for a treat? AKA their call for when they've found Vi?

A few streets away from the station, I crouch down beside Mango. "Wanna go on a run?" I mutter, removing the leash from her and tucking it down my pocket as much as possible. "Let's go. And still search for Sage. Sage, Sage, Sage," I repeat, so that, once again, she knows what we're doing.

Mango perks up at her name and she begins to sniff in the air again, alert. I follow after her, though by the looks of it, Mango isn't exactly headed to one place. She's just sniffing around, trying to search for something.

We walk past the school. At the sound of... whatever it is, I freeze. Footsteps? Mango stops beside me.

"Sit," I say before she will run off somewhere. Obediently, she does as I say, yet her head keeps on moving around.

From quite a distance, we watch the school doors open. I see the silhouette of a man and tense up. He walks out of the tall building, directly towards us, but we're morphed into the background.

He's walking suspiciously fast. A little peep leaves Mango. She looks up at me. I exhale deeply. If I start panicking, she'll sense it. She'll sense any kind of emotion someone around her is feeling. And she'll sense danger, especially that.

The man must be headed to the town, because he's still walking towards us. The path away from the school is next to us.

I walk out of the shadows. Mango follows me. The man jumps.

A growl exits Mango's mouth. She steps closer to me as the man steps into the light of a lantern.

Fuck yes, it's him.

"Where is she?" I ask immediately. My voice mirrors against the walls of the dark, empty place.

"Jeez, Thomas, you scared me," Mr. Leadford chuckles anxiously. "She?" He then asks.

"You know damn well who I'm talking about."

He moves closer. "I don't think—"

"Watch your moves." I motion at Mango. "She'll bite you in a second."

His now realer laugh shows that he does not believe me. I cross my arms, waiting for an answer. "Well?"

"Well what? I suggest you go home. It's late at night. Dangerous."

"Especially for girls walking down hills with men following them, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know—"

"Where is she?!" I'm back at shouting. Mr. Leadford raises an arm to calm me, and that makes Mango snap; she rushes forward.

He screams in pain. I hear the fabric of his jean rip. Mango's teeth are likely already in his flesh.

"Tell me where she is and I'll tell my dog to stop."

He tries to kick Mango off, shaking with his leg, but she keeps holding on. In fact, the more he will resist, the harder she will bite.

"Well?" I give him a push. He nearly falls backwards, completely out of balance with a dog at his leg. "I know you were with her. You were following her!"

"I will talk to the principal about this!"

"I don't care!" I press him against the first flat surface I find. "Tell me where she is!"

I'm really close to beating the absolute shit out of him. My fists are balled. The only things that are stopping me are the consequences I might have with the police, and the fact that when he's passed out, he won't be able to tell me where Sage is.

"Where's Viviette?" I press him harder against the wall. He squirms in pain, but I keep pushing. Mango jumps away, barks a few times, and then goes back to biting.

"I don't know!" He finally cries out. "She ran off!"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" 

"It was right here," he says hurriedly. Desperately. "Right here, she kicked me and then ran off. Towards that hill again."

"And then? What did you do?"

He doesn't reply. I press harder.

"Alright, alright!" His hands do a weak attempt of pushing me off. "I didn't do anything. I gave up."

"And what were you trying to do in the first place?"

"I told her I could teach her extra stuff after school."

"And she didn't agree to that, did she? Yet you dragged her here. And then you were planning to lock you two in a classroom again, and you'd—" I stop at just the thought of everything that could've happened. Take a moment to shake it off, then look at him again. "You're going to report yourself to the police right now. You'll tell them about what you did and your intentions. If you don't, I'll make sure your reputation at school will become so bad that you will never get a job anywhere again."

He nods.

"Promise it."

"I promise," he whispers.

Slowly, I let go of him, and clap in my hands so Mango will step beside me again. Then we leave without another word.

He'd be a dumbass in both options; report himself or let me ruin everything. His choice.

"Come on." I attach Mango to the leash again, carefully wiping blood off her face. "Maybe Sage is home by now."

The walk home is in silence. Dozens of thoughts are running through my mind. I don't know what I'll do if she isn't home.

By the time I'm nearing my house, little drops of sweating are running down my forehead and my shirt sticks to my body. My breaths are uncontrolled.

"Sage!" I drop the leash in shock. She's right there. Sitting on the staircase in front of my house, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head buried in them. Yet I recognize her from feet away.

Mango barks, this time happily, and runs towards her. I do, too, once I've overcome my shock. A few seconds later, I've pulled her right in my arms.

"Oh, my God— are you okay?" I squeeze her close. I don't think I will ever let go of her again after this.

She nods into my chest, but then burst out in tears. "I'm sorryyy," her words break into a loud sob.

"It's okay. It's okay." I repeat it so many times that it really gets through my head; I'll never fight with her again. Never. "Are you hurt?"

She sniffs. "Just my head." 

Softly, I press my hand against the back of it, but she still winces. When I remove my hand, it's covered in a thick, sticky liquid. Blood.

I somewhat jump off the stairs. "We need to go to the doctor!"

"No, no. It's alright. I don't think it's that deep. It was just a hard hit."

I want to hold her here until I can no longer feel my butt— screw that, I will hold her here forever. "Where did you— how did you get hit?"

A very quiet laugh escapes from her. "When I was running away from him, my clumsy ass wasn't paying attention. I bumped straight into a lantern. Then everything went black."

"How long have you been sitting here for?"

"Not very long. Ten minutes, if not less."

"But then you were out for more than four hours," I murmur. Again, I tighten my grip around her. She still smells like herself. Acts like herself. The only imperfect things are that she's shaking, crying a bit, and the wound on her head. "I think we should go to a doctor."

"No. It's fine. I really just want to take a shower right now and sleep," she whispers back. "He didn't manage to hurt me. I'm okay."

"And I'm sorry," I reply quietly. "For everything I said. I'm really not angry you went through the drawers. I was just... all the issues combined and then I let it all out on you because I finally had a 'decent' reason to yell. But I didn't mean any of it. I don't care that you read it. You may read every single letter and all I'd care about is that you got here safely."

I can't see her face, still against my chest, but I feel her smile. "Okay. I'm sorry, too, though. I shouldn't have gone through it, even though you're saying it's okay. It's your privacy and I won't read any of it again."

Not replying, I close my eyes. I hide my face in the crook of her neck. Breathe in, and out. I force this moment to stay in my brain forever. For if I ever consider leaving her alone or yelling at her again. Then I'll think about this and though this hug is the best thing ever—that relief of seeing her again—I will make sure it never happens again.

"We didn't ruin the streak yet," she then says. The amusement in her voice keeps on growing, even as she talks quietly.

"And we won't, right?"

Sage shakes her head, then winces again. "No. We won't."

"Wanna go inside?"
She nods, and winces another time. I snicker below my breath. "Stop moving your head."

"Sorry—"

"No, don't apologize either."

Slowly, I help her up. We walk inside with my arm wrapped around her. And upstairs, with our fingers intertwined.

I put the shower on for her, the perfect temperature that she will turn up the longer she stands under the water, until the bathroom is all steamy. Lie a towel down on the closet toilet seat as she takes her shoes off.

I don't think there's anything else I need to get ready for her, and yet I can't get myself to leave. "Are you sure you're okay?" I ask when she rubs her forehead with a slight hiss.

"Yes. If I move too fast, I get a bit dizzy," she explains. "I'll be okay."

"Maybe don't shower too hot, then," I suggest. "You'll get dizzy from all the steam, and you're already dizzy. We don't want you to faint again."

She nods, peeling her shirt off. Some of the blood that has trickled down her neck is now sticking to her body, along with dried sweat.

With a cough, I look away. "I'll leave now."

"No. Stay, please," Vi requests softly. "I'll keep my undergarments on as I shower. You'll be there in case I faint. And moving around a lot hurts, so if I can't wash my hair—"

"Don't wash your hair. Just let the water fall on the wound, but don't wash it," I say.

"Oh, alright." A nod. "But can you still stay?"

I nod back at her. "Of course."

"Thank you." She wraps her arms around me again. I sit down on the floor, eyes on it as she removes her pants, then enters the shower. I look back up when the cabin has gotten so steamy I can only see her silhouette.

My eyes fall on the drawer. "Hey, you in for a... shower story?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Just let me..." I trail off as I take a letter out of the drawer. One of the papers that's all the way on the bottom, of course.

"What—"

"Hi, my name is Thomas, and I am seven years old," I read out loud.

"Thomas, you don't have t—"

"Today, Sage and I painted." A pause. "Painted written with a 't' at the end," I add. "I teased her by smudging the paint all over her nose. In return, she made a handprint on my white shirt. I did it back, and she started nearly crying because that was a new shirt and 'mommy would get mad'."

Her laughs echo through the cabin. With a giant smile, mixed with a grin, I continue.

"It was a bleu handprint," I say, chuckling at the incorrect spelling. "I told her we were matching with bleu handprints on our stomachs. I would've kept this shirt on the whole week had Daddy not told me to put it in the washing machine. I protested because then the paint would be gone. So Mom hung it up in my closet. A 'one time wear', she called it."

More laughs that make my mood ten times better.

"Oh, by the way," I say, no longer reading. "I still have that shirt. I see it everyday in my closet. It just no longer fits."

"Oh my God," she laughs. "Wait, I have it, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She lets go of a breath. "Except my closet is too full for me to see it everyday. It's hidden somewhere at the bottom."

"I think that at this point, you should put some of your clothes in my very empty closet. You basically live here at this point."

"I wouldn't mind if I actually did."

I pause for a second, just at the imagination. "I wouldn't, either."

"Glad you agree."