Last Seen

by J.T. Ellison

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. —Author Unknown

Why are you blaming yourself? You were six. You were not responsible for any of this.

It has bite marks in it—she’s always had a terrible habit of gnawing on her pencils like a squirrel trapped inside a house. There is something comforting about it,

And according to the FBI database, which holds a missing persons report, she hasn’t been seen since 2002. Fifteen years. She’s been gone for fifteen years. Where is she?

“How dare you go into my closet, you little thief? Give me that.”

Did Mom send me to spy?

Your memories are coming back. Be careful.

I think you should stay away from this. It would be such a shame if something happened to you, too.”

She hated me. Cat hated me. Halley realizes she is crying, that her heart hurts. Theo is right. Maybe she’s better off not remembering. She wipes her face and lies back down, but sleep will not come again.

“Like I care. Sniveling little twit. Besides, you killed him.” “What are you talking about?” “Your prints on the gun, my sweet.” He waves it in front of her. He’s wearing gloves. “Your Jeep found in Nashville. You shot him, you ran. 343You disappeared into the fabric of the universe, with law enforcement on your tail.” “No one would believe I could do such a thing. My Jeep is here.” “Not anymore. A little birdie did me a favor.” “This is insane. This isn’t happening.” She has conjured this fever dream.

You were with every single victim of this little spree. You were unstable. You were upset. Your life was falling apart. You went a little mad, killed a few people, and went on the lam. It’s not a stretch at all, considering.”

He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. —Friedrich Nietzsche

Real Talk

Halley’s been on the run for a week now. According to the sheriff in Brockton, she is now the primary suspect in the murder of a woman in Brockville, Tammy Boone, as well as responsible for the near death of the sheriff’s brother, with whom she’d been holed up.

She is in Nashville. She is six years old. There is a stranger in the house. Her sister’s boyfriend Ian has come. Is that fear in Catriona’s eyes? Is that laughter Halley hears? They are fighting, arguing. Cat is panicking, pleading, and he just laughs at her. His voice is mocking and sharp. “You said you wanted to be free of them. Now you will be. We’ll wait for your father to get home, and he can join your mother and that brat of a little sister, and you will not be tied to this ridiculous family who hates you anymore.” “You killed her. You killed them both.”

Now she realizes that infinite space was protection. It was safety. It was sanity.

Neuroplasticity exists. The mind can protect you from the worst things that happened to you. You can forget. You can block things out. You can find ways to live with your own horrors. Hide from them.

And in the absence of sound and sight, in the velvet darkness so rich and tangible, a deprivation of senses that would drive any other person mad, she waits. Something terrible is coming. A monster. An embodiment of fear personified. She will not let it get her.