The Vanishing

chapter 2

Two weeks later

A knock on the door startled her.

When she opened it, she found Marc standing there, his face grim, his hands trembling slightly. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just stood there staring past her into the apartment, his eyes distant.

“Can I come in?” he finally asked, his voice low.

Andrea nodded and stepped aside, letting him in. He sat on the edge of their worn-out couch, his hands gripping his knees. The silence hung heavy between them.

“They took her,” he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “Elsie’s gone. Just like the others "I know I said..." my voice trembled as i spoke, my words barely audible. "I’m so sorry."

I froze, watching him. His hands were shaking, his chest rising and falling with short breaths. When he finally turned to look at me, his eyes were full of fear and sadness, a mix that made my stomach drop. Whatever he was about to say, I wasn’t ready for it.

"I know who did it." The words came out in a almost whisper, so soft I almost missed them.

I blinked, unsure if I had heard him right. "What?" My voice sounded too loud in the heavy silence of the room.

Marc swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding mine for a moment before he looked at me again. This time, there was a strange kind of certainty in his expression. "I know who did it," he repeated, his voice steadier now. "Have you ever paid attention to those people?"

"Those people?" I echoed, confusion threading through my thoughts. "What people?"

Marc leaned forward, his voice dropping as if the walls themselves had ears. "The ones at the salon. The one opposite the shopping center."

My heart skipped a beat as his words sunk in. The Ethiopians. Of course. My mind raced back to what he had said earlier about the salon, the men coming and going at odd hours. Could it really be them? The pieces were starting to fit together, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to believe it.

"They’re not who they say they are," Marc continued, his voice growing more urgent. "I’ve been watching them. There’s something off about that place. People don’t just go missing like this without someone knowing. And I think those people at the salon… they’re involved. I don’t know how deep it goes, but I’m sure of it."

The women who work there are so kind and friendly so much so that everyone goes there, then it hits me everyone goes there including all the missing girls,including me and my sister's.

My pulse quickened. The weight of what he was saying pressed down on me, heavy and terrifying. Could this really be happening, right here, in Jamhuri? Right under our noses?

"Marc, if you're right about this..." I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. If he was right, it meant we were in way over our heads. And it meant Elsie might be caught up in something much worse than we had imagined.

"I don’t have proof," he said, his voice thick with frustration. "But I can feel it. I know I’m not wrong, Andrea. We need to find out what’s going on in there. Before it’s too late."

Too late. The words echoed in my mind, and I felt a surge of panic. This wasn’t just about Elsie anymore. It was about all of us. If the people at that salon were behind the disappearances, then we were all in danger.

They know too much; our parents work schedules, our schools,our home situations. They've been playing us.
Listening to our stories,our complaints.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in my head. "Okay," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "Okay. What do we do now?"

Marc met my gaze, his expression hardening with resolve. "We watch. We gather information. And when the time comes, we stop them."