The night went like every other night except for one thing. Our mother was not here.
We saw her this morning as she swept us off to school with that warm motherly glow. She looked happy; nothing seemed off. So why wasn’t our mother home? She is always home when we get back from school. I must go, pick up my younger brother, Donovan, from middle school, then pick up my little sister, Ella, from elementary school. Then we go for a snack at the local ice cream shop. My sister gets this ginormous rainbow-looking concoction. Every time she eats it, her eyes start to vibrate with sugar. My little brother, Donovan, will never change. He always gets a simple chocolate cone but never eats the cone. He always gives it to the mascot of Oscar’s ice creamery, Dea. She’s a beautiful black Maine coon that the owner, Oscar, found. They have been inseparable ever since. Then we go to the park for an hour. I sit on the swings as I watch my little sister become a fairy, and my little brother becomes a knight. The imagination between these two alone is a sight to behold. Mom and I always love watching them play imaginary. They put on stories and played for us after every dinner, that is, before Dad went missing. The police said they had theories, but they were vague, leaving us in the dark. I believe he’s watching us every night, because I can’t quite get rid of the feeling I’m being watched 24/7. It’s nothing uncomfortable; it’s more of a supervised feeling. Either way, I’m being watched. That is why, on the day dad went missing, I decided to keep a, what I like to call, detective journal. It allows me to go back and see things from a different perspective. It is one of the reasons why I feel it could be my dad watching. I still haven’t discovered why he hasn’t come home in the last year since his disappearance. After the park, we will go right home. The difference today is that our mother isn’t home. Dinner is usually the first thing you smell when you walk through the front door. The only thing I could smell was bleach. Our mother is always cleaning in the morning, but does she always use bleach? I wondered. 'Why does the house smell funny, sis?' Donovan asked. I don’t know why, but for now, take Ella into the living room and watch TV till I can make some food for us tonight. As Donovan nudges Ella into the living room, I get ready to prepare to cook when a thump stops me in my tracks. Donovan zooms into the kitchen, looking nervous. What was that he asked nervously. I don’t know, but I’m about to find out. Take your sister and go to the closet in my room. Hide in the back of it, okay? I question. He looks nervously at the back door, says 'Okay,' and runs into the living room, then all the way upstairs. Once I hear the door shut and the house goes silent, I grab the biggest knife I can see in the knife block and slowly make my way to the back door. I turn on my phone’s flashlight and start dialing 911. Once 911 is dialed, I open the back door. I directed my light out into the backyard. All I see are trees. In the silence, I hear a loud thud. I jump from fright, turn my attention to the sounds with my flashlight, and on top of the garbage cans, a majestic Dea is meowing at me like she wants me to follow her. So, I did. When I get to her, I pet her, and she purrs in contentment. When she meows again, she jumps down and stops me from following her to the edge of the woods in our backyard. The closer we get, the smell of something rotten mingles with a familiar coffee aroma, and it grows stronger. I cough, what is that horrible smell, as if asking the beautiful cat. When the cat stops and looks at me, then to the dirt in front of her, I bend down and start digging. After about 5 handfuls of dirt, I get up, grab the shovel next to the garden, then go back to digging. The deeper I go, the smell becomes unbearable. I turn away and wretch; after gaining my composure, I turn back to the hole I recently dug up. I flash my light at the hole. What I see is devastating. I can only stare in shock. Then I turned away. I ran to the back door, Dea in tow like she’s my shadow. I breathe in gulping air like a fish out of water. Then call 911. In about 2 rings, they pick up. 911, what is your emergency? Yes, I found a dead body in my backyard. I believe it to be my father. After that, I will give them my information and the address. In about 20 minutes, the police show up. By that time, I was already in the living room hugging my sister and brother, like they were my lifeline. When the police came in to question me, I told them exactly what happened from the moment I woke up to the moment I found the body. When they left, I locked the doors, and we stayed in the living room for the rest of the night. The next day, we found out the body was our father, but how and why remained a mystery. No one knew where our mother was, or if she'd return. That day we stayed home, I called in for myself and my siblings. I told them to hang out downstairs while I took a shower. For about an hour, I let the water run as I cried. The devastation of my dead father and my mother, who is missing, finally caught up. After that, I spent half an hour washing the past day and a half off me like it was dirt to be washed away. When I got out and went to change, I heard a thump and my sister scream. I rushed downstairs, and the front door was still locked, but the back door was wide open. I rushed out to see my brother and sister being tied up and dragged away by masked people going towards the woods. I scream Stop and run towards them, furious and scared. Only want the safe return of my siblings. I trip and fall only to get back up and run towards my siblings. When I’m about 2 feet from them, I hear the snapping of twigs and a crack. A ring deep within my head hits me, then I feel blood trickling down the back of my head, and everything goes black.
When I come to, my head is spinning, the ringing so unbearable it almost outweighs the pain. As I instinctively reach for my head, my hand is abruptly pulled back by metal chains. I look around to see a dimly lit garage, and across the way, my sister and brother are caged. I scream, Donovan, Ella, are you okay? They don't answer. Startled by a voice coming from the shadows, I hear, They've been drugged, honey; they won't wake up for a while. I turn to see my mother standing with a small smile, her whole demeanor casting a shivering uncertainty. Everything is going to be fine, sweetheart, her voice echoes hollowly. Soon, you'll understand, and you might even join your father. Her presence now feels a mix of warmth and chilling intent, but something in her eyes flickers, a shadow of something I can't place. I glance back at my siblings, their gentle breathing the only sign of life, and feel the chains bite into my wrist as my mind races over what could come next. What is the truth here? An echo of unsettled questions bounces in my head, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.