Prelude
Dread. It's the feeling that lingers in the back of your mind while you wait for information. It's what makes you worry about something you can't do anything about. Rather than fade as time goes by, it intensifies with every passing second. Some people mistake it for fear; others use it as motivation to get what they need. However, dread is patient. It can interrupt our thought processes or daily activities at any given moment until we find the answers we crave. As time unfolds, so does that uncomfortable feeling of not knowing. How far would you go to extinguish it?
Chapter 1: Dec 22, 2013
"When was the last time you spoke to Riley?" How many times do I need to explain my side of the story to the cops?
"Our fight was the last conversation we had." God, that sounds so incriminating. No wonder I'm their prime suspect in her disappearance. It's bad enough how guilty I feel about our final moments together ending in an argument. Now everyone thinks that I killed her or something.
"How long ago was that?"
"I explained this I don't know how many times to your partner ever since Riley first went missing. Why do you guys keep bringing me in? You're wasting her time."
"We're just trying to cover every little detail of the situation. As Riley's girlfriend, I'm sure you want us to work as hard as possible to find her. So, please, help us help you." I sighed out pure frustration. "When was that conversation?"
"The night before she was taken."
"We don't know that she was taken yet."
"Do you have any evidence to prove otherwise?"
"I could ask you the same question. Is there something you aren't telling me?" I sat there looking at him, implying my obvious ignorance to that question. "Alright then, so you spoke with her two weeks ago?"
"Yes."
"And what was your dispute about?" Riley always insists that we keep our business our business. I hate going against our terms every time I get questioned.
"I honestly don't want to discuss that again."
"Ms. Johnson, we ..."
"Let me stop you right there. Am I under arrest?" Now he's staring me down the way I did to him. "Exactly, I'm leaving." I stood up to walk out of the interrogation room.
"If you recall anything you forgot to mention ..."
"Yeah I know the drill," I said before slamming the door behind me. I'm sick of being treated like a criminal. Most people think Riley ran away, but I know better. She would never leave without saying goodbye. Everyone else assumes I killed her and hid her body somewhere, her brother included. He won't even let me help search for her because he thinks I'd just throw them off the scent. He's wrong; I'd give anything to know she's okay.
I keep a shirt she wore in my car. It still smells just like her: sweet vanilla. Whenever she crosses my mind I get it out of my glove box and take a whiff. It makes me feel a little closer to her and revives my faith in her return. We've been dating for 2 years now so not having her around is hard to get used to. Picture yourself in a small room with no windows or doors. Your freedom would be completely stripped from your core. That's exactly how I felt the moment I heard Riley was gone. If I could just know where she is, regardless of her physical state, I think I would feel a hell of a lot better than I do. I spend most of my time wondering where she could be and if she's safe or hurt or worse. Driving alone, like I am now, is when it hits the hardest because the radio has a habit of mocking me:
Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend somewhere along in the bitterness and I would have stayed up with you all night had I known how to save a life.
I would change the station but I already know there's gonna be some other sad song about losing someone you love. It never fails. Fuck you, too, radio.
As I pull into my drive-way, I get the nerve to go back to the police station. Anywhere is better than home nowadays. I live with my teenage sister and she's almost always got some friends with her in my house. This being a small island is cause for rumors to spread like wildfire. Everyone, and I mean everyone, gives me funny looks because no matter what they think about Riley's disappearance, they're all convinced I had something to do with it: she ran away because of me or I killed her or blah, blah, blah. I try to keep positive but it's hard to do that when your best friend doesn't even believe in your innocence; so much for loyalty.
"Meredith? I'm home." It's quieter than usual here. "Mer?" No sign of her anywhere but my cat is sure happy to see me. "Guess it's just you and me kid."
I send a message to Riley's phone number every day just in case she might see it. I figure on the off chance that she just ran away then I could at least keep her updated on what's happening in my life. Plus, I don't have many people to talk to anymore, being labeled a murderer and all.
Dear Riley,
I got called in for questioning again. They can't seem to comprehend the fact that I've told them everything I know. It sucks getting the finger constantly pointed at me. I wish you would come home already. I miss you, I love you, and I hope you're okay.
Love, Marie.
Most nights I dream of seeing a new message from her on my phone, only to wake up disappointed. One day my dream might come true and it's that possibility alone that drives me to write to her every day. At this point, I can only hope.
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Song - How to Save a Life by The Fray
