Wish Upon A Sunset

The Runaway

Emma

I staggered out of Michelle's room, my legs unstable. The crumpled note in my hand felt like it weighed a ton, but I forced myself to take deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heart as I entered the kitchen.

My mind whirled, replaying every recent interaction we'd had, searching for signs I might have missed. How could I not have seen this coming?

Slumping into a chair at the table, I smoothed out the paper, my hands shaking. I read it again, hoping the words would have changed. They hadn't. Tears splashed onto the worn wood surface as reality sank in.

"Mom? Dad?" My voice cracked as I called out. "Can you come here?"

I heard shuffling, then my parents appeared in the doorway. Worry creased Dad's forehead while Mom's eyes darted around.

"What's wrong, Emma?" Dad asked, stepping closer.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "It's Michelle. She... she left this." I held out the note, my hand trembling. "She ran away."

Dad took the paper, his eyes scanning it swiftly. His face went pale. "Jesus," he muttered, then read aloud. "I can't take it anymore... I'm leaving... Don't try to find me... I took a knife... I'll hurt myself..."

Mom let out a strangled noise, grabbing Dad's arm for support. "No, no, no," she whispered, shaking her head. "Why would she do this?"

The thought of Michelle hurting herself made me feel nauseous. I couldn't shake the image of her, scared and alone, with that knife she mentioned, and every second we wasted felt like it could determine the difference between finding her safe or... I couldn't even finish the thought.

I leaned forward, my elbows on the table. "Has she said anything to you guys? Has she been acting weird?"

Dad ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "She's been upset lately, but whenever we tried to talk to her, she'd just yell that she was fine and lock herself in her room."

"And you didn't push it?" I couldn't keep the accusation out of my voice.

"We didn't want to make things worse," Mom said defensively, wringing her hands.

Dad abruptly straightened up. "We need to go look for her. Now."

I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. "But what if she meant what she wrote? About hurting herself if we try to find her?"

"We can't just sit here and do nothing," Dad snapped, heading for the door.

Mom snatched the phone off the kitchen counter, her trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons. "I'm calling the police. They can help us search." Her voice cracked, betraying the horror we were all feeling.

A strange sense of déjà vu hit me at her words. Once again, our family was in crisis mode, facing a situation that seemed impossible to navigate, but this time, it wasn't about me - it was about my little sister, out there alone and potentially in danger.

I nodded, a knot of helplessness tightening in my stomach. "I'll tell Molly. We can split up, cover more ground." The words tasted hollow in my mouth, but it was all I could think to do.

As I headed outside, Mom's voice faded behind me, tinged with desperation. "Yes, I need to report a missing person..."

The screen door creaked and slammed shut behind me as I stepped onto the worn wooden porch. The familiar scent of Mom's potted lavender did nothing to calm my frayed nerves. Molly's back was turned to me as she paced, and I caught the tail end of her phone call.