At 2 P.M., I Walked Into My Parents’ Backyard Expecting To Pick Up My 8-

their numbers like some desperate pendulum.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Voicemail.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Voicemail.

Each unanswered call felt like another door slamming in my face.

“Where are they?” I whispered, more to myself than to Ethan. “Do they not see the police, the ambulance, anything? Do they not care?”

After almost ten unanswered calls, a dark thought slipped continue reading …