Henry Mills/Jared Gilmore Imagines

Missing

The reader goes missing.

Warnings: none?

Personal Rating: 8/10
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Henry POV

She's been missing for three days.

They've been looking for her; sending search parties and the cops have been tracking her.

But she's no where.

We checked the mine, her house, the clocktower, the graveyard; pretty much anywhere she could be.

But she's not there.

"Has she ever talked about harming herself?"

The police officer seated in front of him snaps him back into a reality. Henry is sitting in a chair in the police department, a new officer questioning him about her.

"Um...." he shifts in his chair, "No,"

"Does she ever talk about people hurting her at home?"

"No," Henry says again.

"Do you know if she harms herself? Or if others harm her? Physically, verbally, or online?"

"No"

He scribbled notes into his notebook.

"And again...you are Henry Mills, age 17, and you were her boyfriend,"

"Am," you clarify, "I am her boyfriend. Not were."

He doesn't notice.

"Ok, Henry, last question: Has she ever talked about running away?"

"No,"

"Well then, thank you Henry"

He sits up in his chair, "So?"

"This seems like a kidnapping. And in this town that's not surprising," the officer says.

"Do you know where she is?"

"Not a clue,"

----
She had been missing for two months.

It was hopeless that anyone would find her.

He should be doing his homework, but instead he's staring at the ceiling. He's staring at the ceiling thinking about you.

He's loved you ever since he laid eyes on you, and you loved him. You two had been dating for nearly three years. From freshman year to junior year. Your three year anniversary would be in two weeks.

He just couldn't stop thinking about her without tearing up. The love of his life. What if she was injured or dead?

But then he notices something at the top right corner of his room.

A little sharpie drawing of stick figure that's never been there before.

There's a name under it: Henry.

He jumps up and looks up at it. His fingers desperately trace over the small drawing, like he's trying to grasp into something. There's a little trail drawn by sharpie leading down to his book case.