Lost and Found

Prologue

Prologue ~ Demi’s POV

Have you ever known something was wrong, but you couldn't put a finger on it?

That’s what I was feeling the day I found out about my mother.

I was only twelve years old, but I still had a feeling in my gut that something was not okay. My mother sent me to my grandmother’s house for the day and then ran off without telling us where she was going.

“Have a nice day, baby girl,” my mother whispered in my ear, hugging me tighter than usual. She straightened up and turned to Nana. “Take good care of Demi for me.”

I watched as my mother squeezed Nana’s hand and picked up her leather purse. Soon the heavy door was slamming behind her. Little did I know that would be the last I would ever see of her.

Normally, when I went to Nana’s house, Nana and I played hide and seek all around the house. It was much more fun there than at my own home, because Nana lives in a huge manor – the Carlton House – that’s almost 300 years old, so it’s full of hidden passages.

But on that day? I felt sick to my stomach. I just wanted to lie on the couch and watch TV, which made me even more agitated. As rich as Nana is, she won’t buy a new television, and I was stuck trying to work the ancient set.

When the sun finally hid behind the big hill on which Nana resides, I fell asleep in one of Nana’s many guest rooms.

It must have been one in the morning when sirens came roaring down our street and pulled into the long driveway of the Carlton House. I sat up anxiously in my bed, smoothing my dark brown waves. I kicked off the lacy comforter and tiptoed to the window, yanking the velvet drapes open. A man in a uniform was knocking on the front door.

From all the way downstairs, the sound of the door squeaking and opening echoed through the halls. Chills were sent down my spine. I ran back into bed and pulled the covers up to my nose. My eyes were squeezed shut.

Go to sleep, I thought, Go to sleep. Go to sleep.

In the morning I went down the creaky spiral staircase and sat at the kitchen table. Nana was there too. Her head was resting in her hands, her usually prim gray bun was disheveled, and she had not changed out of her nightgown.

“What’s wrong, Nana?” I pressed, leaning towards her over the table.

Nana jumped, surprised to see me. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“It’s your mother, Demetria,” Nana murmured, “She’s gone.”

My eyes widened. I ran over to Nana and buried my head in her shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut as to keep the tears in, but they flowed down my cheeks like a river.

I am a silent crier, but internally, I was screaming.