Chapter 11: The Person Watching Us
I read the message three times.
The words didn’t change.
They just became more terrifying.
*Stop searching, or she disappears again.*
My mother saw my face.
“What is it?””
I didn’t answer immediately.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
My father noticed the phone in my hand.
“Maya?””
I handed it to my mother.
The moment she saw the picture, all the color left her face.
“She’s back.””
I frowned.
“Who?””
My mother looked at the screen.
“The person who did this.””
Richard stepped forward.
“What happened?””
My father grabbed the phone.
His expression changed.
He knew something.
I saw it.
“You know who sent this.””
He shook his head.
“No.””
“Dad.””
“I don’t.””
I took the phone back.
“You always do this.””
He looked at me.
“Do what?””
“Know something and pretend you don’t.””
The words hurt him.
But they were true.
My mother took a breath.
“We need to leave.””
Richard laughed.
“You think walking away solves anything?””
My mother looked at him.
“No.””
Her voice became cold.
“But staying here puts Maya in danger.””
That was the first time I saw Richard lose control.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Not anger.
Fear.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” he said.
My mother stepped closer.
“I spent eight years alone because of people like you.””
She held up the camera.
“I’m done being afraid.””
We left the storage facility together.
For the first time in years, my mother and I walked beside each other.
But instead of feeling safe, I felt like we were being watched.
The parking lot was empty.
Too empty.
My father looked around.
“We should call the police.””
Richard immediately said:
“No.””
Everyone turned.
He realized his mistake.
My mother narrowed her eyes.
“Why shouldn’t we?””
Richard stayed quiet.
I smiled sadly.
“Because you know exactly what they’ll find.””
He looked at me.
And I realized something.
Eight years ago, everyone underestimated me.
They thought I was just a child.
They thought I would believe whatever story they gave me.
They were wrong.
When we got home, my mother refused to go inside.
“This house has too many memories.””
I understood.
It wasn’t our home anymore.
It was a crime scene full of ghosts.
We went to a hotel instead.
A quiet place far from everyone.
For the first time that day, we had a moment alone.
My mother sat by the window.
I sat across from her.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, she said:
“You hate me.””
I looked up.
“What?””
“I know you do.””
My chest tightened.
“I don’t know what I feel.””
She nodded.
“That’s fair.””
I looked at her.
“You really tried to come back?””
“Yes.””
“Every year?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn’t you fight harder?””
Her eyes filled.
“I did.””
She reached into her bag.
She pulled out a stack of returned letters.
Letters addressed to me.
All marked:
*RETURN TO SENDER.*
“I sent these to your house.””
I touched them.
“Dad never gave them to me.””
“No.””
The room went quiet.
Then my mother said something that made my heart ache.
“I attended your middle school graduation.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“I stood outside.””
“Why?””
She looked down.
“Because I was told you didn’t want to see me.””
I froze.
“I never said that.””
“I know.””
My hands shook.
Someone had stolen years from both of us.
Not through one huge action.
Through thousands of small lies.
Then there was a knock at the door.
My mother and I froze.
Nobody knew where we were.
My father didn’t.
Not even the hotel staff knew our names.
The knock came again.
Three times.
Slow.
Deliberate.
My mother stood.
“Maya, get behind me.””
The door handle moved.
Someone was trying to open it.
Then a voice came from outside.
A voice I recognized.
“Angela.””
May you like
My mother went completely still.
Because the person outside was someone she thought was dead.
