om school. Where are you?' I waited for a response, but the silence was deafening. My mom

sense of unease: 'Mom! Mom! Good afternoon!' The silence wa

and then to the bedroom, but I couldn't find her. I kept shouting, my voice hoarse w

ld me where she was going before leaving the house. We had developed a rout

situations because she was nowhere

remained next to the door, a melancholy reminder that my mother had disappeared. In a desp

neighbor who lived close. "Pardon me, did you see my

pologize, my love. She remained silent with

roximately eleven in the morning, we saw two people e

at has lingered ever since. I had always confided in my mom, telling her abou

d kidnapped my mom, leaving me feeling helpless and vulnerable. I couldn't

. The fear that had gripped me since that day had become a cons

rless. However, I discovered that I didn't even know my grandmother's address or p

o turn to, and I felt like I was running out of time. My mother's remarks, "If I don't kno

rid of the sense o

ering, making every breath feel like a battle. Every painful step seemed like a shard of gl

shapes that seemed to mock my hopelessness. Every sound was exaggerated, e

gh I were imprisoned in an endless nightmare. I felt like I was going

. As I sat there, I couldn't help but think about the events that had unf

up with a plan. What was I supposed to do next? Who could I turn to for hel

ound of my own ragged breathing. I felt like I was drowning in m

the door. I hesitated, wondering who it may be, and my hea

this time, who may be visiting? What were they looking for?

ttempt to figure out who was inside. But I couldn't see th

the knock sounded urgent in some way, and I had a glimmer of hope tha

o slightly open the door. The black chamber was illumina

tle gap. She was wearing a large coat with a hood covering her face.

rying to speak s

hood to expose a very familiar face. I re

n," in a quiet, anxious