This idea came to me yesterday, and I sort of ran with it. I had to take a few liberties with one character, since we don't know much about her, but I think it's still a plausible scenario. It takes place in the 2012 series, like most of my stories. I may fiddle with the summary or title later. I'm not sure yet. I hope you'll enjoy the piece and tell me what you think. Thank you all for reading.
A woman with auburn hair swayed her hips side to side as she shifted a pan on the stove, moving to the pop beat she was humming as the smell of scrambled eggs engulfed the room. She winced when one hard sway made her spine pop, growling at the giggles that came from the table.
"Hey now, no making fun of old people! I'll burn your eggs, young lady."
"You're not that old. And they're not burned already?"
"Hey! I've gotten way better at cooking. You even said so last night. I make a mean salad." She pouted at her niece and April leaned back into her chair and sighed, smiling.
"Sorry, Aunt Sandra." Her grin told her otherwise, even as she tried to hide it behind her hand.
"All is forgiven. For now..." Sandra sniffed, turning back to the eggs and blanching when she saw some of them had that distinct brown tinge. Head dropping in dramatic fashion, she quickly turned the burner off and moved to get plates, being sure to cover the pan and give April the ones not burned. Setting down their plates, Sandra began scarfing hers down before April could see, ignoring how her stomach flip-flopped at the action.
"Is it a race?" April asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sandra shook her head, coughing and reaching for her glass of orange juice. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, opening one green eye. "No, I just need to finish fast. Because... Because I have one more thing to make before I go to work. Yeah." She didn't hold April's gaze, her cheeks warming.
"What?" April said, tilting her head. "Why?"
"Your dinner. I have to stay late and finish up this presentation. There's a really important meeting this Friday and I need to be as together as possible." Her brow furrowed when April's eyes fell to her lap, and she chewed the corner of her lip. "I know, hun. I know. I promise we'll hang out later and you can tell me about these boys your hanging out with. And I'll make the dinner extra special and easy to heat up."
April smiled a bit, but it didn't reach her eyes. Sandra frowned, scooping up her plate and sliding it in the sink, moving back to the stove. "I'll work extra hard not to burn it too, I promise," she tried, glancing back at April. Her heart rose when she saw her niece smirk.
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Hmph. I'll show you." She listened as April's chair scraped against the floor, the girl putting her dishes away and pausing before starting to wash what was in the sink. Sandra's brow furrowed and she cleared her throat.
"Oh, you don't have to do those now, sweetie. I'll do them when I get home."
April was quiet for a moment, still rubbing some egg off a plate. Sandra watched her carefully out of the corner of her eye, bringing down a box of instant mashed potatoes and reaching for the measuring cup. "You'll be tired, won't you?" April said eventually. April's eyes hardened and she scrubbed more furiously. "Besides, I want to help out."
Sandra felt her stomach wriggle; she knew exactly why April felt that way and no matter what she told her to the contrary, she didn't seem to understand that she didn't have to help out all the time. That with their family here so broken up that April just being there was a big source of comfort and help. With her brother-in-law missing and most of their family halfway across the country, Sandra found herself leaning on April just as much as April leaned on her.
Sandra hummed back, mixing the potatoes together as her thoughts turned back to Kirby. She still didn't quite understand the reasoning behind his disappearance. April said some men had grabbed them, but the boys she was now hanging out with had managed to break her free. The same couldn't be said about Kirby, and now the police were working to find him. Something about how his skills were needed for the people who took him, so he was physically safe, but he needed to be found as soon as possible.
...or so April had told her. Although the story felt off and she was worried sick for Kirby, she hated how the mere mention of the incident made the girl shrink into herself. She was always volatile then; so ready to burst into tears or into rage, depending on the context, but in the same breath assuring her that he'd be back, safe and secure. She was a geyser of emotion.
Sandra smiled slightly at the thought. She's so much like you, sis. I know you'd be proud seeing how strong she is, how well she's handling this. Handling everything. And she's so much like you-she stubborn as a New York cab driver, but loyal and protective. And she has your husband's empathy and compassion. And hair...
I hope we really do find him soon. April needs him. It's so hard here without you, but without Kirby too? I'm worried...but she's changed a bit. Gotten stronger.
I need to be stronger too. Keep it together for her sake.
Because she knew how hard it was for April right now. How hard it was for both of them.
One dead. One missing.
I wish I could call you, sis.
Sandra shuddered and pushed the thoughts away, jumping at April's laughter. "So much for not burning anything."
Shaking out of her stupor, Sandra balked at her now black potatoes, groaning and throwing the entire thing into the sink. "Maybe I'll just make you a salad or something, huh hun?" Sandra ran her hands through her hair, mussing her already loose bun.
April only chuckled.
Sandra rubbed her eyes, pulling her phone out of her purse and flipping it open. The numbers 1:16 a.m. flashed back at her and she groaned, throwing it back in her purse. Even at the late hour, plenty of lights illuminated the streets, and lighter-than-normal traffic could be heard in the distance. She headed up the stairs and into her apartment building, which was much darker. The only light in the lobby was a small desk lamp at the front desk, spilling a small circle of light near the entrance. She pinched the bridge of her nose; she could feel a headache coming and started toward the many stairs she had to climb. "When is the landlord going to install that elevator?" she muttered after several steps.
Walking the steps only exhausted her further, eyes burning from the long day of staring at a computer screen, fiddling with words and images, running the slideshow over and over to make sure each effect was doing what it was supposed to. And then there was the whole "which-color-is-the-most-calming-but-neutral-but-s till-interesting-for-the-background" fiasco. Her tired legs felt like jelly by the time she reached her apartment door and she had to fiddle with her keys for several minutes before she actually managed to let herself in.
The moment she walked through the doorway, a dark, uneasy sensation prickled her skin. She glanced around her dark apartment, waiting for an intruder to come at her with a gun, or for April to come screaming, but nothing happened. As she flipped the lights on, eyes wincing but quickly adjusting to the light, her gaze swept over the room.
Nothing seemed out of place. The television was still hooked to the wall, her drawers were closed, her lamps were unbroken. As she moved in the kitchen it stayed that way: neat and in place. She quickly checked the fridge, eyes zeroing in on the salad she made for April that morning.
Untouched. Uneaten.
Something in her stomach churned, the back of her neck igniting. She rubbed her throat, closing the refrigerator. "Maybe she ordered out instead?" Sandra asked herself. She shook her head, sighing when the worry didn't subside. She scolded herself for it. Silly. She's probably in her room.
"Ap-" She stopped herself, slapping a hand over her mouth. She's probably asleep by now. Nodding to herself, she headed for April's room, heart beating hard and fast against her chest. She couldn't explain the sudden apprehension that filled her, but she picked up a brisk pace to reach the end of the hall. Knocking softly, Sandra slowly turned the knob and let herself in the room.
"April, sweetie, I'm sorry to..." She trailed off when she glanced at April's bed and found it empty. The room looked the same as that morning, with a pile of dirty clothes shoved against the door, homework and balled crumples of paper around the desk. But the bed was neatly made and April-less.
Sandra inhaled audibly, heart bottoming out as she ran her hands through her hair and whipped around, flipping on all the lights and rechecking every room. She looked for the first glimpse of bright red hair, maybe sleeping on the couch or in the bathroom, missed when Sandra first walked in. But a second sweep gave no sign of April. She hurried back to April's room, throwing the window open and looking out into the streets. Her eyes flickered around, searching for April, squinting into the dark, picking out girls that looked her age, but never finding her among them.
Panic hit her in new, painful waves and she quickly closed the window, fumbling for her phone in her purse. She dialed 911 and was about to send the call when she stopped herself, shaking her head and chuckling softly. "Calm down, Sandra. Calm down. Just call her. Geez, what would sis think if she saw her panicking like this?"
Although, since April's her daughter, maybe she'd be kicking you instead...
Ending the unsent call, she sped-dialed April's and held the phone to her ear, waiting out all seven rings and trying to push down the cold fear rising up in her throat. Hands trembling visibly now, she redialed her number and waited again. And then again. And then a fourth time before she accepted that, no, April wasn't picking up.
Gasping for breath and wiping furiously at her burning eyes, she stomped back to April's room. "Oh, when she comes home, she's gonna hear the riot act. Making me worry like this and-and-" She paused, blinking when she noticed an envelope on the bed, missed in her panic and terror in not finding April where she should be. Finding her legs shook too much, she sat on the bed and ripped it open, unable to keep her hands still enough to be delicate. Her eyes scanned the words, chest tightening:
Hey Aunt Sandra,
Sorry about having to do it this way. See, my phone's sort of broken and I had to leave really fast. Um...well, see...
Several lines were crossed out, nearly tearing the paper.
It's so hard to lie to you, you know? So, here's what I can say: The people that took dad really meant to take me, and now there are even more people involved. And even though I was sort of safe at first, now it's just too dangerous for me to be out in the open like this. And that's why I'm not letting you call me, because I don't want them to figure out that you know me and come after you too. And I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry. And I don't know if you'll believe me but please don't worry too much. And please listen to me.
I can't go to the police. They can't do anything to help me. They won't even believe me. And some of the people after me might have some influence over the city or something, so it's not safe. Don't go to them either, okay? Just try and pretend nothing's wrong. I know you're probably super mad at me, and really worried but... I don't want you to get hurt. I don't you to get involved and wind up like dad or something.
Please be safe. Please don't look for me. I promise I'll write and you can write back if you want. I know someone who can drop the letters off and pick them up safely, so it's okay. I know he can do it. He's so careful with me. So please don't worry.
I'm sorry, Aunt Sandra. You've been so great. You helped me feel a little less alone.
I love you. So much.
-April
Sandra couldn't blink back the tears, feeling rolling freely down her cheeks. She clamped her mouth down to keep from sobbing, reading and rereading the letter. There were scratches and cross-outs, little tears stains on the paper. And she knew it was genuine-knew April's handwriting too well to not know.
Her mind whirred, trying to process the information and finding the task impossible. "No...no, not you," she shuddered out, "Not you too." The words were a harsh whisper, but loud in the silent room. A cold, empty feeling invaded her chest. Her heart raced but the hollowness in her chest quickly washed over her entire body.
She let herself fall into April's bed, bringing the letter closer to her chest. The room blurred from her tears but she didn't bother to wipe them away anymore. She was too tired. Too stunned. The morning with April seemed like a distant memory. Like it had been weeks since April had ribbed her for her cooking, or promised they'd hang out. Now April was gone.
Just gone.
Small, choked sobs ripped from her throat. "Oh, oh, oh... Sis. Sis." She brought one arm to curl around her stomach. "I'm so sorry, sis. I'm so sorry, Kirby. Oh, oh...no. April, come back. I'll protect you. I'll protect you somehow. Please come back. Please...please don't leave me. I can't-I can't lose anyone else." Hiccuping, she repeated it over and over to herself, rocking back and forth in the bed, crying until exhaustion won over.
"April," she muttered, eyes red and puffy, fighting sleep but losing. Her eyes closed. Her voice broke. "April, please...don't leave me too."
Because now there would be no one she could turn to-no one to explain what was wrong or pour her worries into. Not if it was true. Not if she'd put herself and the rest of the family in danger if she said anything.
She was alone now.
One was dead. One was missing.
One was gone.