The Disappearance of Talia King

PART II

AUGUST 9th, 2009, 2:27 am

BAILEY, AGED 13

My mother's barking voice hadn't stopped since we went back into the house. It was deafening, ear-piercing, in fact. It wouldn't stop. Nobody had stopped speaking since the late hours of the night. My father wasn't doing too bad either, cursing constantly, yelling at the top of his lungs.

I felt like I was sinking further and further into the sofa beneath me. I wanted to escape, to pretend it wasn't real, to not be able to hear their desperate cries and pleas. But, I couldn't. There was no way of escaping any of this.

She said she was coming home, I thought silently. So, why isn't she back? She should be here. She promised me she was coming home.

The more authoritative police officer was trying to take control of the situation, despite the relentless howls and barks. He attempted to speak calmly and sternly towards my parents, but I could tell he wanted to scream at them. With his huge fists clenched at his sides and his mouth set in one hard line, he waited as patiently as possible until silence enveloped the oddly decorated lounge. Finally, it was peaceful and I could feel myself crawl cautiously out of the cage I'd backed into. The floral patterned chairs reminded me of when she used to sit there, her legs extended in front of her whilst propping her feet up against the rickety-looking coffee table. She didn't like to sit on the sofa or the chair closest to the door. She liked the chair by the window. She said it was because it was lighter; it was where the sun shone down on us. Nobody except her ever sat in that seat. Nobody until that sluggish officer.

His elbows rested upon his knees whilst he sat forward and listened to the clipped responses coming from his colleague. He didn't care if that was where she would usually sit. He didn't realise my annoyance at his rudeness. He just continued to sigh and nod along to the words being said throughout the room.

"Madam, we're not permitted to file a missing person's report until it has been 24 hours since the person in question has been missing," the more professional officer said to my mother, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "Those are the rules in which my colleagues and I must follow."

My mother's eyes widened in shock and she stood from her seat on the sofa to become eye-level with the strange man. "That 'person in question,'" she began, altering her tone of voice slightly, "is my eldest daughter! Therefore, I don't care if those are the rules and regulations you must follow. I want to file a missing person's report now!"

Cringing fractionally, I glanced away from my mother and out through the window to where the crooked trees stood, rattling in the summer night breeze. The black sheet above them held no stars, no hope, nothing to wish upon. It was empty, not a single thing at all laid in its pit of darkness. The only light in the room came from the candles dotted around us, illuminating what they could. Everything seemed so foreign. Everything didn't fit together like it usually did. Nothing made sense anymore. These men weren't supposed to be here, the candles seemed dimmer than usual as if their bright and beautiful flames had had some of their life sucked out of them. The photo frames on the grey walls looked out of place, almost as if they shouldn't have been up there, the normally peaceful atmosphere had evaporated and left us with nothing but the screeching voices of the neighbours outside still in search of her. Unlike the way I used to see this lounge, I now saw it as dreary and old-fashioned like the outside of the house. It didn't make me feel the way it did nine months ago after we first moved here. It seemed odd and unfamiliar as if I'd never even lived here before.

Finally, the second officer stood to his feet and paced towards my parents lazily. "Mrs King, teenagers like your eldest daughter often stay out longer than they should. They're young and that's what they like to do. As of yet, there is nothing we can do for you," he told her in a clear voice. "If your daughter doesn't return in 24 hours call us again and that's when we can file the report. I'm sure she is just out with her friends."

I stopped listening after that, only staring at them as my mother protested continuously. She didn't stop until they left the house. After that, she just stood by the window and waited. I didn't understand why, unlike everyone else, she didn't believe that she would return. Before, I believed the same thing. I didn't think she would come home. However, what the officer said...it seemed like it could be true. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. Maybe my mother was wrong to call the police in the early hours of the morning. Maybe she was coming back, after being out with her friends. At least...that's where I expected she was. Perhaps she'd lost track of time and stayed out too late, I thought to myself. What if she's walking home right now? What if we just got it all wrong and came to conclusions too quickly? Maybe we're all just over-reacting. She is seventeen, after all. She's entitled to stay out late if she wants to. She's done it before, hasn't she?

But, what if she isn't with friends? Who else could she be with? Was she alone? Possibly... However, that's when an idea hit me. The impact almost knocked me out of my seat. How could I have not thought of it before? How could I have been so stupid and naive to not see it as a possibility? Surely she was there. If she wasn't here, she was always there.

Shuffling in my seat, I reached for my phone in my back pocket and once I had it in hand, I began to flick through the list of phone numbers I had until I found his name. Tapping frantically on the number, I soon gained the attention of my mother. Her face twisted in confusion, knitting her brows together and she turned completely away from the window to stare at me. Often we were at a loss of reception but after a few minutes of waiting, the familiar ringing sound began to echo in my ear. Eventually, the irritating sound came to an abrupt end and I heard the rustling of bed sheets on the other end of the line. I hadn't thought about the time; I could only think about her. I heard a husky sigh make its way down the line and I took that as a signal to speak.

"Harry?"

*

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