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Find Missy? Take her home?
I’ve heard things about what she’s done. Some bad. Some worse. I can’t stomach the thought of her doing any of what the rumors say, so I choose not to believe them.
Does that make me the problem? An enabler?
I’ve gone over the places she could be hiding in my head a billion times. I’ll be honest, the odds of finding her are not in my favor.
Especially if I can’t find somewhere to start.
And to think . . . I lied. I lied and told my mother I would go help build a school in a little village that really needs it, yet, here I am, sitting in my pink house trying to piece together the clues to my sister’s disappearance. Does that make me . . . bad? Mason said no, but there’s still that part of me that wonders if all these lies will eventually start to tumble down on one another until I’m left in the rubble.
Fuck.
“What am I going to do?” I groan, laying my head in my hands because that seems like the best course of action when you’re all alone on a Friday night.
And then my phone buzzes.
There are only three people that could be.
My mother, who won’t call because, again, she thinks I’m off the grid.
Michael, who also won’t call because hetoothinks I’m off the grid.
And . . . them.
Begrudgingly, I check the screen and find a number I don’t know, but hey, at least it’s notUnknown,right?
“Hello?”
No answer, save for the sounds of idle background noise.
“Hello?”
Again, no answer.
“Look asshole. I don’t know who you are or why you keep calling me, but if you don’t even have the balls to say it—”
“Ha—Hannah?”
I freeze as ice fills my veins. I know that voice.
“Missy?” I jump up from the couch and cut the TV completely. “Missy, is that you?”
“Hannah, I’m in trouble,” she whispers, voice barely legible over the racing of my heartbeat in my chest.
“Missy, where are you?”
“I—I don’t know,” she stammers. “You’ve got to help me. They’re going to kill me.”
“Missy—”
“I don’t have a lot of time,” she whispers, voice cracking. “They’re going to come back.”
“What’s it look like where you are? Are you still in California?” The panic in my chest swells at the sound of her quiet crying on the other end of the phone. “Who is coming for you?”
“I—I’m in some kind of warehouse. I think I’m in LA, but I don’t know. Hannah, they’ve been drugging me. They’re going to kill me.”
“Who?”
