Sweet Deception - Bokuaka

Tears

⚠️TW: Death, kidnapping, and blood

"It's your mom. She's been kidnapped."

Silence clouded the atmosphere, making the room pin drop silent. Suddenly a small laughter emerged, and I was surprised to hear it escape from my mouth.

"You're joking, right?" My voice shook as I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I'm afraid not," Kuroo said, shaking his head and shattering my world.

I closed my eyes and exhaled, not realizing I was holding my breath. "Why aren't we doing anything? Why aren't we trying to find her?" I turned to my father and directed the questions right towards him.

He lifted his head up and stared emptily at the wall ahead. He slowly walked towards me and handed me his phone. My mouth went dry and blood boiled as I stared at the painfully bright screen.

There she was. I saw a slightly pixelated photo of my mother. She sat on a wooden chair with a black gag in her mouth tied at the back of her head. Her arms were stretched back behind the chair, and I already knew that they were either handcuffed or tied together. Each ankle was tied with a thick rope to the respective leg of the chair. She was still in her formal black skirt and blouse. The crimson colored blood smeared her white button up and dirt covered her pallid face. Her head hung in exhaustion, and I could see a glimpse of her half-lidded eyes. My empty fist clenched into a tight ball, and I gritted my teeth. 

She never came home.

She was out late, and I knew that something was off. Damn it Akaashi. How could you be so stupid?

"Is she alive?" My voice was surprisingly steady, despite the hatred that coursed my veins for being so oblivious. I can't lose it right now. That won't help mom.

"We believe so. The photo was sent about an hour ago, and it looks like she's still breathing. We're having Kenma trace the address," Kuroo explained.

I dashed down the hallway, passing multiple rooms and ended up at the rusted wooden door in the back. Turning the yellow knob, I yanked the door open to find Kenma sitting in his black revolving chair, briskly typing on his keyboard. Multiple monitors were set up, each with a different purpose.

"Kenma, did you find anything?" I impatiently asked.

The small male picked up his typing pace, and I watched as multiple browsers opened up, flooding the screen with numbers and letters.

"I'm trying to trace back the address from which the photo was sent, but whoever sent it keeps rerouting the address every 20 milliseconds. It's almost impossible to backtrace someone who's that good," Kenma replied, honey-colored eyes not leaving the screen.

My fists clenched again. Frustration and anger mixed into one emotion, dictating my actions. 

"Well figure it out." My cold response caused the pudding head boy to stop typing and look up at me, worry filling his eyes. He let out a sigh and turned back to his screen, continuing to type.

Even though Kenma and I weren't particularly close, he was always kind to me. He was a soft spoken male that seemed to not care, but always worked his hardest to ensure we had successful missions. My chest ached as guilt overcame me.

"I-I'm sorry, Kenma," I softly mumbled, looking away from him.

"It's okay," he replied while still typing.

I gently closed the door and slowly made my way back to the common area. Upon entering the room, people turned their heads at me with sympathetic looks. God I hate that. Stop staring.