Echoes of the unsaid

Her world fell apart ten years ago when her father vanished without a trace. The police called it a runaway case, but Maya never believed it. Ever since, she lies awake every night, imagining the worst and hoping for the best.

It felt colder, even though Maya, now twenty-one, resided in the same house. The corridor continued to creak. The clock in the kitchen continued to chime. But the warmth that once permeated this apartment had been replaced with ghosts-memories that wandered from room to room like lost souls. She frequently found herself conversing with her father's picture. Posing queries that no one could respond to. You left, but why? Did you run? In hiding? Taken? Are you still here?

Her mind went awry. She went to the closet, where she held boxes of her father's old files, after taking the flashlight out of her drawer. The identical ones that years ago her mother had insisted she discard. She rummaged through the files and discovered a battered envelope sandwiched between insurance documents. It was not dealt with. There was no postmark on it.

There was a note inside. They didn't type this one. Her father's handwriting was used to write it. "Maya I haven't kept you safe, if you're reading this. However, it indicates that you are about to face the reality. Show courage. Have faith in your intuition. Don't tell your mother you found this, no matter what."

She gasped.

She read it three more times.

It was real.

It was him.

She wasn't crazy.

She wasn't alone.

The rain fell in thick sheets outside her apartment window, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold and red. She sat curled on the worn-out couch, a steaming cup of black coffee in her hands, the bitter taste grounding her against the storm raging both outside and inside her chest. She ignored her phone, which buzzed on the coffee table.

A sudden knock at the door startled her. She wasn't expecting anyone. Cautiously, she approached and peeked through the peephole. No one. Just a basic, soggy envelope laying on the welcoming mat.

Hands trembling, Maya picked it up and retreated to the couch. The envelope was sealed with red wax and made of hefty, vintage cream-colored paper. No return address, just her name in a hurried, unfamiliar scrawl.

She broke the seal, sliding out a single sheet of paper. The ink was faded but legible:

"Find the truth before it finds you."

Her heart throbbed. Was that a joke? Dangerous? Or an ancient message?

Memories of her parents' late-night arguments, the desperate hunt after he disappeared, and the quiet were all hed over her.

Once more, her phone buzzed. She responded this time.

She muttered, "Liam?" The comforting voice of her dearest friend calmed her.

"How are you, Maya? Your post regarding your dad caught my attention. Are you certain you want to investigate this?

"I must," she stated firmly. "Everything changes because of this letter."

The city was slick with rain, neon signs reflected off puddles, and people were rushing past with umbrellas and hurried steps. Maya grabbed her raincoat and headed into the storm, with the letter safely in her pocket. The public library's archives, the only place that still had records from ten years ago, were her destination; if her father's disappearance was more serious than the police claimed, the answers had to be hidden in those dusty files. The air inside was heavy with the smell of old paper and forgotten stories, and she made her way to the basement, where old case files were kept in metal cabinets with faded typewritten tags on their drawers.

As she combed through papers, a shadow moved nearby and said, "Need some help?"

Maya turned abruptly in surprise. A tall, slender man with sharp blue eyes that seemed to see right through her was standing there. A badge dangled from his belt, and he was dressed in a dark trench coat.

He said, "Detective Ethan Drake." "This place isn't usually open this late."

"I'm Maya Rivers. I'm just researching." She held up the letter discreetly.

He watched her for a moment. "You shouldn't be poking around in your father's case."

"Are you, too?"

To put it mildly, I am involved. More than you realize.

An unsaid understanding passed between them as their eyes met; they were both haunted by secrets they were not yet ready to reveal and were both pursuing ghosts from the past.

Hours later, Maya was back in her apartment and still felt like she was being watched. The letter, a veiled warning and promise, was heavy in her pocket.

Though she was unaware of it at the time, going outside in the rain tonight had drawn her into a risky situation that would jeopardize all she held dear and make her face the darkness within.

Her phone abruptly rang with a message from an unidentified number:

"Maya, stop digging. Or you will also vanish.

She gasped. The game was already underway.