The New Girl

The New Game

Highway 22 (Between Panama City and Wewahitchka)
8:09 PM; Mr. and Mrs. Tingle Car

George gripped the steering wheel tightly as he and Patricia cruised down the desolate highway, the vibrant hues of the setting sun casting long shadows behind them. Exhausted and hearts heavy with worry, they journeyed homeward to Wewahitchka, their minds consumed by the haunting emptiness left by their daughter's disappearance. The day had yielded no breakthroughs, no clues to Hannah's whereabouts, leaving them with a gnawing sense of despair that grew with each passing minute.

"George," Patricia began, her voice laced with a mix of concern and frustration as she glanced over at her husband. "I understand why you're suspicious of Brooke. Yes, she was the last person seen with Hannah, but did you see the fear in her eyes? And let's not forget what happened to her freshman year."

George's brows furrowed in annoyance, a reflection of his disappointment over the fruitless search in Panama City and his growing impatience with Patricia's insistence on Brooke's innocence. "I'm not sure what you're getting at," he replied curtly, his irritation evident.

"Her freshman year of high school," Patricia began looking out the side window at the many miles of Florida wetlands. "she went to a party that she was invited to. She got drugged and woke up naked and tied up to the ground. She was...well I think you can guess. She was blackmailed by them. She felt that she couldn't tell anybody. Anyway, it turned out that the people doing this were doing it to other girls. Brooke united with them and got the courage to take them down."

"I don't see what that has to do with her maybe or maybe not having something to do with the disappearance of our daughter," George replied as he kept his eyes on the road.

Patricia's voice held a gentle yet resolute tone as she spoke, her gaze fixed upon the fading hues of the evening sky. "I share Brooke's past with you because I want you to understand, George," she began, her words carefully chosen, "that while trauma can shape a person, it doesn't define them. Brooke endured unimaginable pain, but she found strength in the darkness, a strength that I believe guides her intentions now. We have no way of knowing what they shaped her into becoming."

She turned to meet George's gaze briefly before returning her attention to the horizon. "I don't believe for a moment that Brooke would harm our daughter. Despite the short time they've known each other, I see something in Brooke – a genuine desire to help, to find Hannah just as desperately as we do." Patricia's voice wavered slightly, emotion tugging at her words. "We can't let fear cloud our judgment, George. We need to trust in the goodness of people, even in the face of uncertainty."

"I think she is trouble, whether she knows something about our daughter missing or not," George said firmly. "I don't trust her. She dresses and acts for attention."

"You seem to draw conclusions based solely on appearance," Patricia retorted, her voice tinged with frustration as she kept her gaze fixed out the window. "Perhaps if you looked beyond surface impressions, you might see a different side. I'm not claiming Brooke is flawless, nor am I discounting the possibility that she knows more about Hannah's disappearance. But, George, we can't afford to close ourselves off to possibilities. It's about maintaining an open mind."

The tension in the car was palpable as they continued their journey, each lost in their own thoughts, grappling with the uncertainty that hung heavy in the air.

Chattahoochee
8:14 PM; Old Abandoned Factory

Hannah's cries echoed through the dimly lit chamber as the relentless machine continued its torment, thrusting mercilessly. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she weakly struggled against the unforgiving restraints that held her captive. It had been an agonizing eternity since the torture began, her body racked with pain and despair.