HAVING 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

46. Missing

JOHNNY
May 19th 2005

Melissa still hadn't come home. I drove all around town, trying to find her at the chipper or on a random parking lot—anywhere.

I didn't mean any harm. I just wanted to let her know I was there for her and we were willing to help her if she wanted that.

I should have known that she'd run. Months ago when we first became friends, she'd turn around and leave, and I didn't even flinch back then because I was so used to seeing her back turned to me.

Every time I tried to get too close, she'd make an excuse to go home. She'd tried to break up with me before—now she actually did it.

She'd broken up with me. I knew she didn't mean it. It still hurt.

She would take it back. I was sure.

My Mam called around and even tried to report it to police. My Da and I didn't want to file a missing person's report yet, but Mam wanted Melissa to get home safely no matter what. If she didn't return by tomorrow, it would turn into that.

I wanted her to be back more than anything, but I knew she was okay. I knew she'd come home soon, because I knew how her thought process worked.

Right now, she was probably sitting, eating some chips for dinner, paid for by some coins she found in my coat pocket, which she wore to school before disappearing. She was thinking about coming back soon. She was afraid I'd see her as this sullied girl now, but Mel never changed to me.

Whether I knew this about her or not, it had still happened, and she was still the same Melissa that I loved and cared for.

I wish I could tell her that, but I'd bulldozed enough yesterday.

This was how I found out, by the way.

When Shannon, Gibs, Claire, and I went to the chipper, Gibs and Claire went home early.

Shannon told me she was worried and that I should know Teddy didn't only rape Marie. I remember the realisation weighing in on me.

"Shannon, do you mean yourself?" I had asked.

She shut her eyes really tightly, as if she was forcing herself to say it. "No."

"Who?" I raised my eyebrows.

She didn't answer, and by then I already knew.

Missy being physically and mentally abused was one hard thing for me to process, but the fact that she was sexually abused made me sick to my stomach.

Don't get me wrong—I didn't see her differently. I saw more, and it didn't bother me. I wasn't sure if I'd been better off not knowing, but this couldn't be undone, and I was ready to deal with it.

It's like the question: if a tree falls in a forest but no one's around to hear it, does it even make a sound?

The answer was; it happened to her and no one knew, but it still happened. Just because no one was there to see it, doesn't mean it didn't.

She ran the second I found out. I wondered where she slept, if she'd eaten enough or if she was even safe.

My only issue was the fact that life wouldn't give her a break. Why did it work against her so harshly? Why couldn't some higher being hand just one good thing to her?

Then, a knock came on my window. What the hell? Who was up here? Missy?

I ran towards it, opening it and finding Mel there. She was blonde.