cracked with anguish as he shouted, “Mom! Did you kill her? Or did you both conspire to drive me mad? How could she die? She was so young–there’s no way she had cancer! You’re lying! You hid her from me!” He fell to his knees, sobbing. “Please, Mom… Give Stacy back to me. I’m begging you…”
Anna shivered at his desperate words. Was this really her son?
Seeing the chaos, Tara tried to intervene. But Pat, consumed by grief, shoved her aside. His neck veins bulged as he shouted, “You’re all liars! You worked together to deceive me!” His voice grew more unhinged, “I’ll find her. I’ll find her myself!”
With that, Pat stormed out of the hall, leaving Anna to watch helplessly, her heart heavy with sorrow.
Pat drove recklessly into the snowy night, his mind racing faster than his car. In truth, he had no idea where to look. All he knew was that he couldn’t accept the reality staring him in the face.
But as cruel fate would have it, another blow awaited him. Though he’d known Stacy for five years, he realized he knew nothing about her life beyond her apartment address
That night, a video of Pat speeding dangerously through the snow went viral online. He couldn’t have cared less. His destination was Stacy’s old apartment.
Though the icy roads caused minor injuries, he ignored the pain. When he finally arrived and saw the apartment door open, he limped inside, his heart pounding with desperate hope.
“Stacy!” he called out
But his hope was extinguished when he found the landlord showing the unit to prospective tenants. A cold wave
of despair washed over him.
The landlord recognized him immediately. “Oh, you’re Stacy’s boyfriend, right?”
Pat ignored the label, his voice shaky as he asked, “She’s missing. Do you know where she went?”
The absurdity of his question didn’t escape him, but he clung to any sliver of hope. Before the landlord could respond, fear made him turn to leave.
*She mentioned giving up the lease about a month ago,” the landlord said, stopping him in his tracks. “It was such a shame. She was a wonderful tenant and neighbor”
Pat hesitated, unwilling yet desperate to listen.
“You two didn’t have a fight, did you? Stacy was so quiet and focused. She spent her days between school and home, and she loved playing the piano alone in her room. My son used to listen to her through the door crack.”
Pat’s chest tightened. Even while sick, Stacy hadn’t stopped practicing the piano. How had he known so little
about her life?
The landlord’s words echoed in his mind, unraveling the picture of a girl who had lived quietly, yet with so much
purpose.
“Where is Stacy’s school?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
