The Mandala Girl (COMPLETED)

Chapter 10

The golden flicker of stars is the first thing I see upon opening my eyes, and I instantly recognize the different constellations in the night sky. My heart throbs in a panic—how did we make it out of the painting? Worse yet, it's nighttime! I bolt upright from my laid down position and look around. My head is the only part of me that protrudes above the overgrown field.

This makes no sense! We were only inside the painting for ten, twenty minutes tops. It shouldn't be dark out. How much time has passed? Oh, mom and dad are no doubt beside themselves wondering where I'm at.

The paintbrush is tucked away inside my jeans pocket. I check to see how much time is left on the timer, but the clock is gone. There's no glass display, no digital blue numbers, nothing. The handle of the paintbrush is restored to its previous appearance.

TJ is laying a few feet away from me, still dazed. "Hmm?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "Did we die?"

"TJ, wake up! Something isn't right. It's nighttime."

He looks around with half-closed eyes. "Yup. Sure is. Time must function differently inside the painting. Make sense, I guess. After all, it is another world in there. But how did we get back here? What was inside that tunnel?"

I let out a worried sigh. "Doesn't matter now. I've gotta get home." I swing my art bag over my shoulder and hurry home.

It feels like I can't run fast enough. My feet become heavy, my heart pounds from inside my chest, and my lungs feel like they're about to burst, but I don't stop. My ankle is still sore, so that's proof I didn't dream the whole event.

By the time I arrive home, I'm exhausted, panting heavily as I stumble through the doorway. My parents are half asleep on the living room sofa. "Mom. Dad. I'm so sorry I'm late. You'll never believe what—" I suddenly realize that I can't tell them the true reason for my absence. They would never believe it. "I lost track of time. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." I expect to get a tongue-lashing from them, but silence is their only response. The two of them stare at me, wide-eyed, completely stunned. Okay, now I'm worried. "What? What is it?"

"Riley?" mom whispers. A tear slides down her cheek. "Is it really you?" She stumbles over to me and collapses at my feet, wrapping her long arms around my waist.

Her strange behavior causes my muscles to tense up. "Mom, what's wrong? Why are you acting this way?"

She looks at me with tears in her eyes. "You mean you don't know?" I shake my head. "Riley, you've been gone for almost a year."

Her words ring through my ears—gone for almost a year! My mouth falls open, then closes, then opens again, but no words come out. I have no clue how to respond. I'm speechless.

Mom moves over to the credenza and opens the top drawer. There's a manila folder laying inside. She brings it over to the couch, motioning for me to take a seat. "The night you went missing was the worst night of our lives. We called the police after you didn't come home. They launched an investigation forty-eight hours later. We asked everyone we could think of: relatives, neighbors, even people on your social media if they had seen you, but no one had. You were featured on the local news for the next few weeks, and in the missing person ads in the newspaper. You even had your own billboard, but the police were never able to solve your case. It was as if you had vanished." She flips open the folder and passes it to me. Inside lays a pile of newspaper clippings from over the past year. I skim through them. One headline in particular catches my attention. It reads:

TEENAGE GIRL GOES MISSING. FAMILY IN TURMOIL.

My hands tremble. What happened while TJ and I were in that painting?