The Awakening {Jason Kolchek X Fem!reader}

T W E L V E - Missing

"Excuse me? Do you happen to know who this guy is?" I asked, holding up an old crumpled photo, where the crease lines from the many times it had been folded, had started to turn white and the ink had began to fade.

The elderly lady leant towards the photo, squinting to see the image of the man on it. She thought for a moment, then shook her head, "Sorry, no. I've never seen him before."

"Are you sure? Really focus on his face. He use to live in the area. Please! I'm beggin you." I explained, handing the photo to the elderly lady for closer inspection. She could tell I was desperate, so she took another look, but again, slowly shook her head, "I don't know who he is, nor have I ever seen him before." she had quietly spoken, as she handed me back the photo and gave my hand a comforting squeeze, "I'm very sorry I couldn't help." she said, before gently closing the door to her home, leaving me in the dark, once more.

I sighed aloud, out of frustration, as I folded the photo for the hundredth time, and tucked it back inside the pocket of my old denim jacket.

It was always the same answer. Nobody knew who he was, or they hadn't seen him.

Just this morning, I had knocked on the door of a very stressed single mother, who was breastfeeding her new born, while one of her chaotic children clang to her leg and pulled at the hem of her shirt, while repeatedly yelling "MOM," at the top of his lungs. A third child was whining in the background and throwing his toys around and jumping on the furniture.

I had apologised for disturbing her then showed her the photo of the man I was looking for. The woman shook her head without examining the photo, and said she was very busy, and practically slammed the door in my face.

I had been looking for Jason for three months now, and still, no such luck.

There was one occasion where a man said he had ran into Jason at a coffee shop and they had engaged in a short conversation for five or so minutes, but they never exchanged names or any personal information.

I went to that same coffee shop and asked around, but the staff said that he wasn't a regular customer. He had come in twice in half a year, so again, not much to go on.

I couldn't help but feel as though all my hope was being sucked dry; and the longer Jason was missing, the more I came to think that he was dead, or in deep trouble.

I left the elderly ladies house, and continued my walk down the street.

The neighbourhood seemed fairly run down, and empty. The houses that were occupied, seemed to be lived in by gang members, drug dealers, or raging alcoholics who would shout at you and throw glass bottles as you wandered by, simply because you were there.

Old warehouses were covered in graffiti, and windows smashed.
Homeless people slept on thin, dirty mattresses, with fires lit inside old metal bins to keep them warm.
Convenience Store owners would warily watch you as you walked passed or entered, no doubt prepared for an armed robbery at any given time.

It was really not the sort of neighbourhood that a young female should walk all alone in the pitch black of night; but what choice did I have?

Jason had vanished five months ago after running away from home. I hadn't had any physical or verbal contact with him, but I had received a postcard a month after his disappearance, with nothing but an image of the Statue of Liberty, and on the back it was signed
J.K, with a time and date that was two weeks away from the date I had received it.

I thought it was a sign or some kind of message to say that he was okay and wanted me to come and find him; so I packed my bags, hopped on a flight, and left for New York.