Muted

Chapter 25

After the whole incident at school, I was now standing in my bedroom pacing from wall to wall. I had tried to get ahold of Dillon to tell him not to do anything stupid, and now I was getting worried. Dillon didn't exactly have a good reputation with the cops. To say I was panicking is an understatement.

Dillon never once replied to any of my messages, so I relied on texting Rebel. My anxiousness was making Rebel worry, so Rebel got ahold of Aiden, whom got ahold of me, just now.

"I'm so sorry," was all Aiden texted me. At those words I felt my heart sink.

What did he mean by that? What happened? That's all I wanted to know. I was freaking out so bad.

My nerves were getting the best of me, so I threw on my sweater and ran out of my house, all the way down the street until I reached the Anderson house. It's not a quick run might I add.

Needless to say, I was not expecting to show up to the Anderson house only to find Rebel and Aiden on their front porch with three cops waiting. I rushed up to the porch where Rebel stopped me.

"No, no, no," Rebel said taking a hold of my shoulders. Rebel looked me dead in the face and said "They can't find him. They found his car in the middle of nowhere by a lake."

My heart was racing as I frantically tried signing that we needed to find him.

Rebel was telling me to slow down and be quiet before he made sure I was paying attention to him, "They can't find Angie either. Her car was left in the schools parking lot. They think he took her to keep her away from you. Either that or the scarier thought of it."

I looked at Rebel confused and motioned for him to continue, "They found pictures left in his car. They were photos of you and him. And even some had Angie. The second possibility is that his biological parents took him and her."

"Why would his biological parents be watching him? I thought he lived with them," I signed quickly.

"That's what we all thought, and so did Dillon," Rebel continued. "But it turns out the abusive people he lives with aren't even his real parents. The abusers adopted him at a very young age. So young, he doesn't even remember the foster home.

"His actual parents are psychopaths and have been stalking him. The cops think they've been doing the terror to your locker lately."

I was shocked. Dillon was adopted and his biological parents probably kidnapped him and Angie in broad daylight.

I knees became so week I had to sit down. I sat, hyperventilating. My eyes were burning and I was more confused than anything.

The cops stayed for an extra ten minutes, reassuring that they'll find them. But they never did.

Three months passed and I still struggle sleeping. I've been texting his number everyday in hopes for a response of some kind, but never got one. I would walk by his classes and hope to see him in his class room chair, but never did.

Everyone was stunned at first that the high school golden girl and the token bad boy just disappeared into thin air. Eventually everyone treated Dillon's disappearance like it was normal. And suddenly everyone had forgotten him. Everyone, but me.

I always found myself down in our abandoned subway cart. I never grew content over his disappearance.

At some point, the police had stopped searching for him. The search for Angie though, never stopped.

I was the only person craving the reappearance of Dillon. Dead or alive, I just needed to know that he had been found. But I never got my answer. His disappearance has scarred me. Scarred me so much that I willingly opened Facebook just to accept the friend request he sent ages ago. Just so I could look at his photos.

I missed his bright eyes full of secrets, and that smile that hid so much misery. I missed him. I missed him more than anything.

I never gave up hope for his return. I was the only one hoping for his safety.

I didn't care about the pity stares, or people suddenly feeling the need to be "friends" with me. They were nothing, especially to me.

I only cared about Dillon. I love him. And he was on my mind twenty four-seven. All I could ever think about was him and hope that I never forget.

His disappearance had sent me into a frenzy. I was always finding new places where he could possibly. I even brought my Rottweiler, Gander on these searches.

The searching for him had gotten so frequent that my mom begged me to go to therapy. She was so drained watching her daughter drastically change before her eyes.

Today I was searching for him. I found myself at the pizza parlor that we had our "first date" at. I had his Facebook up and showed his profile pic to the waitress that came to my table. She was the same waitress we had.

"I remember him," she said. "Poor kid. I hope they find him."

Not the answer I was hoping for. I pulled my phone back to myself and the waitress watched me closely before sitting across from me.

"My names, Henrietta. What's yours," she spoke, trying to make small talk.

"R.I.L.E.Y," I signed to her.

"ASL? I'd never expect it," Henrietta said with a cautious smile. "I can tell you love him. But sometimes holding on to things like this will drive you mad. I've seen you in the streets almost begging people for the same answer that you don't have. I'm not telling you to let go, I'm just telling you as a word of advice... give yourself a break. You could use a little rest."

With that Henrietta stood up and continued working. I let out a shaky breath and quickly whipped a tear before it could fall. I stood up and walked out the doors in a rush.

I wasn't expecting to be forcefully engulfed in a cloth darkness. I struggled and struggled against the weight surrounding me, but I could barely keep up with their speed.

I could feel myself being dragged away. Panic had greatly taken over me to the point where I could barely keep my eyes open.

And upon being forced into a vehicle–before passing out–I swear I could faintly hear someone screaming, "Call 9-1-1!"

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