Chapter 1 - The Race Against the Dark
The car engine roared as I tore out of the driveway,
my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Every red light felt like a personal insult,
every slow driver a barrier between me and my child.
The Northridge Galleria was fifteen minutes away,
but in my mind,
it was an eternity.
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white,
the plastic groaning under the pressure of my panic.
Tabitha’s laugh echoed in my ears,
sharp and jagged like broken glass.
"I forgot her,"
she had said,
as if she were talking about a bag of groceries.
My mother’s voice followed,
smooth and dismissive,
telling me not to overreact.
How do you not overreact when a five-year-old is missing?
How do you breathe when your world is wandering alone in a sea of strangers?
The sun was beginning to set,
casting long,
bloody shadows across the asphalt.
I prayed to a God I hadn't spoken to in years,
begging for Brynn to be safe.
I pictured her yellow sweater,
the one she called her sunshine.
Was she still wearing it?
Was she cold?
Was she crying for me?
The guilt was a physical weight in my stomach,
nauseating and heavy.
I had let her go.
I had trusted the monsters because they shared my blood.
I arrived at the mall and parked haphazardly,
not caring if I blocked three other cars.
I ran through the sliding glass doors,
my eyes scanning the crowds.
The mall was loud,
filled with the hum of air conditioning and the chatter of shoppers.
It was too big.
It was too easy to disappear in a place like this.
I sprinted toward Nordstrom,
my lungs burning with every breath.
"Brynn!"
I shouted,
my voice cracking with desperation.
People turned to stare,
their faces blurred and unimportant.
I reached the children's section,
my eyes darting between the racks of tiny clothes.
She wasn't there.
I ran to the security desk,
my hands trembling as I showed them a photo on my phone.
"My daughter,"
I gasped,
"she's five,
yellow sweater,
blonde curls."
The guard looked concerned,
reaching for his radio.
"We’ll find her,
ma'am,"
he said,
but his voice sounded miles away.
I didn't wait for him to finish.
I turned and ran back toward the fountain,
the place where Tabitha said they had been.
And then,
I saw it.
A small,
hunched figure sitting on a stone bench near the exit.
A flash of yellow in the dimming light.
My knees almost gave out.
"Brynn!"
I screamed.
She looked up,
her face streaked with tears and grime.
Her eyes widened,
and she let out a sob that broke my heart into a thousand pieces.
I reached her in seconds,
scooping her up into my arms.
She was shaking,
her small hands clutching my shirt as if she would never let go.
"Mommy,"
she wailed,
her voice muffled against my neck.
"You came back."
"Of course I came back,"
I whispered,
sobbing into her hair.
"I will always come back for you."
I held her for a long time,
oblivious to the people walking by.
The terror began to recede,
replaced by a cold,
hard anger that felt like iron in my veins.
I looked at my daughter,
at her red-rimmed eyes and her trembling lip.
She wasn't just "forgotten."
She was discarded.
And as I walked back to the car,
carrying my precious cargo,
I knew that the woman who entered that mall was dead.
The woman who tolerated her family’s cruelty was gone.
I placed Brynn in her car seat,
buckling her in with steady hands.
I sat in the driver's seat and picked up my phone.
I didn't call my mother.
May you like
I didn't call Tabitha.
I made a call to the one person who could help me burn their perfect world down.
