LIAM:
The poster glowed faintly in the dim light of my bedroom. "MISSING," it read in bold red letters above her photo — the same photo I'd seen a hundred times, but now it looked like a ghost. Zara, smiling wide, her eyes crinkled at the corners, hair tousled like she didn't care. I stared at the photo like it could talk to me — like it would whisper where she was, if I just looked hard enough.
But the silence in my room was deafening.
It had been two days. Two days since she vanished. Two days since I last heard her voice, even if it was just yelling at Levi or telling Kaylee she didn't feel well. Two days since she walked out of school and never came back.
Everyone thought it was a runaway. But I knew better.
The guilt wrapped around my chest like chains. I deserved this. I deserved the way Nick glared at me during practice, the way Kaylee ignored me in the hallways. I even deserved the bruise on my jaw from Nick's last punch.
What I didn't deserve was the ache in my chest every time I imagined her alone, scared, crying.
I closed my eyes and played back the last time I saw her. Her back was turned to me, her hoodie covering her face as she walked away with her brother— after she heard Levi's lies. I'd found out too late.
I should've stopped it.
My phone buzzed. I didn't check it. It was probably another message from Matteo or Beatrice's pathetic crew. I didn't want to hear from any of them. Especially not after what one of Beatrice's minions confessed.
It had been an accident — she thought I already knew Levi and Beatrice were still plotting something. When she mentioned "phase two" and laughed like it was a game, something inside me snapped. The air had left my lungs. I felt physically sick.
How could I have let it go this far?
Zara was never supposed to fall that hard.
No — that was a lie. She wasn't supposed to fall at all.
This whole thing started as a plan. A cruel, twisted revenge plot. But somewhere between her glare and her laugh, her sketchbooks and her awkward charm, I'd lost control. I'd fallen for her — hard and real.
And now she was gone.
I got up from my bed, walked over to the window, and stared at the street below. People were walking, cars driving by, and life was moving on — but not for me. Not for her.
There were police cars coming by the house every few hours. Nick had filed the report. The school had posted the flyer. Some of the students were searching the woods behind the football field. Nothing.
The most haunting part? Her motorbike was missing too.
I gripped the windowsill, knuckles white.
What if something happened to her out there?
What if she never comes back?
I couldn't sit here. I grabbed my jacket and keys. I didn't know where I was going, but I had to move. I had to do something. Sitting still felt like suffocating.
I stopped at the door. Her bracelet was on my desk. The one I got for us — hers had a little Z on it, mine an L. She left it with Levi, and now it just sat there like a severed piece of her heart. I slipped it into my jacket pocket.
I hadn't worn mine since she disappeared. It felt wrong — like I wasn't worthy of it anymore. But I carried it with me, hoping that somehow it would tether me to her.
I walked downstairs, ignored my mom calling after me, and headed out into the cold.
My first stop was the gas station near the school. Zara always liked their lemon tea. I checked with the clerk — nothing.
Next was the cliffs by the river. It was risky, but it was her favorite place to think. She used to say the wind up there helped her sort through the noise. I stood at the edge for a while, watching the trees sway like they were hiding secrets.
Still nothing.
By the time I returned home, it was past midnight.
Two days. No calls. No sightings. No texts. Just Zara's voice in my head, and her bracelet in my pocket.
I flopped onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling, the missing poster still clenched in my fist.
"Come back, Zara," I whispered. "Please… I'll make it right."
And for the first time in years, I cried
*************
The clock glared back at me — 12:43 a.m.
Sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford tonight. Not with her face haunting every corner of my mind. I got up again, slower this time, like my limbs had forgotten how to move. My jacket hung off the edge of my desk chair, and without thinking, I slid it on. My fingers brushed against the bracelet in the pocket — the one with the tiny "Z" carved into it.
I took that as a sign.
There was one more place I hadn't checked. One more place I hadn't dared return to.
The hillside beyond town — the stargazing spot.
I remembered the way her eyes lit up when I brought her there the first time. "You brought me here just for this?" she had asked, a little breathless as she looked up at the blanket of stars above us.
"Just for this," I'd whispered, watching her eyes reflect the sky.
I didn't know why I hadn't gone there yet. Maybe I was afraid that going back would make the memories sharper. Or maybe I was afraid I'd find her there… or worse, that I wouldn't.
The drive was quiet, the road winding and empty at this hour. The further I got from the city lights, the more the sky came alive. Stars dotted the black velvet above, and it felt like they were watching me, silently judging.
When I reached the turnout on the side of the hill, I parked and killed the engine. The silence pressed in immediately. Only the sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees kept me company. I grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment and started walking up the slope.
It felt surreal — like I was stepping into a memory.
My boots crunched over the dry grass. I remembered where we sat that night. Just by the lone sycamore tree, half-sheltered by its wide branches. I reached it and sat down, resting my back against the bark.
The air was cool, but not uncomfortable. I tilted my head up and let the stars blur in my vision. And then I closed my eyes.
I remembered her laughter — soft and hesitant, like she wasn't used to being carefree. I remembered the way she laid beside me and asked about constellations. I remembered how she fell asleep on my shoulder, and I didn't dare move because it felt like something sacred.
And now, that sacred thing was broken.
I pulled the bracelet from my pocket and held it in my hand. The "Z" stared back at me, tiny but weighted like a brick. I squeezed it tight, wishing it would somehow lead me to her.
"If you're out there," I whispered to the stars, "please… just come back. I swear I'll make it right. I'll never hurt you again. I'll do anything."
The wind rustled through the trees like a quiet sigh.
I wasn't expecting a response, but part of me — the broken part that still believed in hope — listened for footsteps. For the soft rev of her motorbike. For anything.
But all that answered me was the wind and the stars.
My throat tightened.
I stayed there for a long time. Minutes. Hours, maybe. Long enough for the night to feel endless. Long enough for the guilt to drown me all over again.
I wanted her to know she wasn't just another girl in a game.
I wanted her to know she changed me.
I just hoped it wasn't too late