Aliyah has been missing for a year. Her best friend Werner believes there is more to her disapearence than what meets the eye. His beliefs are confirmed when he starts to receiving text messages from Aliyah. With this new information. Will he be abl...
Three hundred and sixty-five days. It’s been exactly three hundred and sixty-five days since she’s been missing. When they told me at first I didn’t really understand it. I woke up thinking it was going to be the same as every day and then I remembered: She’s not going to be there.
In the following days I disassociated with everyone and everything. I just lay in my bed expecting her laugh to come from the beanbag chair next to the window, or, maybe one of those corny jokes she used to tell. Not the horrifying silence of a room once filled with happiness. The cops came to question me every now and then; same questions every time and still they were no closer to finding her.
Eventually we had to give everyone closure, so her family planned a fake funeral. A casket with no body, just a picture of her on top of it. It felt wrong, like we were just giving up on her. Going to school also felt wrong. Everyone just going around like nothing had changed while missing posters of her were still hanging on the walls. My friends tried to avoid the subject every time. Especially now at the lunch table. They know it is the anniversary, but they are chatting about how peanut butter is better than chocolate.
“It’s nutritious while also being delicious.’’
‘’How can you even say that? Peanut butter isn’t even good. Chocolate helps with cancer.’’
‘’Oh yeah? Where’s the proof?’’
Darian types on his phone searching for his proof. With a satisfied smirk he shows Emiko his phone.
''Well I don’t think- ‘’ Emiko starts saying.
‘’That’s the problem, you never think.”
Normal, it was just normal. I don’t think I could ever understand them. I need something done. I need answers and I can’t stand their stupid conversations any longer, so I stand up and leave. I can hear Darian calling my name but I don’t stop. The only place I feel I can go to is the third floor bathroom. It’s always empty at this time of day. I go to my favorite stall and let it all out. All the sadness from losing her, all the hate from not being able to do anything about it. The misery because I couldn’t be braver, I couldn’t help her even though I saw her struggling. Then I hear the ting from my phone which meant someone had texted me. I don’t want to check it, but then it sounds again and again. For five minutes straight. If someone is this desperate to reach me I have to at least check what they said.
No…it can’t be.
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