THE DOWNFALL OF SYLVIE COLE

One

It was a summer like most summers in Midwest America, filled with hotdogs and fireworks and corn. Lots and lots of corn. It was entirely forgettable, the same old story told time and time again, had it not been for the disappearance of Sylvie Cole, the daughter of the owner of the only grocery store in town.
On the Fourth of July she went missing, in the morning her parents called the local police station to report her missing. It took a month to find her body.
See, the town was surrounded by forest with rivers running through them like veins.
She had been found there, lying face up in some underbrush, found by hunters that had been deer hunting in the area.
Of course, no one knew what to do. This had never happened before. Not in a town like this, where there was one gas station, one 24-hour diner, and everyone knew each other.
It was strange.
Now we had curfews, and no one let their children out of the front yard, some not even letting them out at all.
The police had said there was no foul play, that she had maybe wondered off into the night to go drinking or smoke some weed like every other teenager did that night, and maybe she got drunk and walked into one of the rivers and got swept up in the current, dragged out by an animal later on.
Everyone was fine with that answer. They accepted it and went on with their lives.
Everyone except me.
Because I knew what happened.
Because I was there when it happened, and I want to tell my story.
But, all stories have a beginning, and mine started one month before: the day I met Sylvie Cole.
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It all started on a rainy day at the beginning of June.
I had been walking home from the band camp that the high school hosted during the summer when the rain started. It had been a clear day, the storm clouds coming from seemingly nowhere.
It wasn't unheard of, not around this area, but it was unexpected. Especially when the weatherman had announced that there would be almost 0% chance of rain the entire week.
I had tried to brave the weather, but that was before the lightning and thunder kicked in, and I headed to the closest building to get indoors. That building happened to be 'Jim's Groceries', the store owned by Jim Cole, Sylvie's father.
Maybe if I had stuck it out, Sylvie would still be alive.
I rushed into the store, shivering and wet, the bell over the door jingled cheerfully, announcing my arrival.
The store was small with two big glass doors and four big glass windows. There were two long lights that stretched from the front of the store all the way to the back, the walls painted white with a long red stripe.
In the front was where they sold the alcohol, cigarettes, and produce. The front was also where the cash register was, often time manned by Sylvie herself. She had been working at the store for about three years when she went missing, had been given the job by her father as a way to save for a car.
At this point in time, I had never talked to Sylvie. Of course, I knew about her, had seen her. But I never talked to her. I was too nervous.
Sylvie was beautiful in all ways that one could be beautiful. She had curly black hair and pale skin, her brown eyes the color of the earth. She had a bright and bubbly personality. She knew how to talk to people, how to get their attention, and to keep it.
I had always envied that about her. Her ability to talk. She made you feel like she knew you, and you knew her.
It hadn't even crossed my mind that she would be there, but then I saw her, and for some reason, sopping wet and shaking, I finally had scrounged up enough courage to talk to her.
Now, I wish I hadn't.