Another Mother

, was found brutally stuffed ins

the inside, and the police

elle left a note: "Bew

pte

ving room, sunlight streaming through t

bably holed up in her room with her

lled her name, bu

ngered in the air, subtle

toman, usually used to store blankets. Today, it looked somewhat... bloa

hest. My hand hovered over the lid. It was hea

ore me made t

nto the confined space of the ottoman. Her limbs were contor

scream ripped from t

rd, crashing into

ving. His usually calm and composed expression

ged toward Annabelle, only to freeze, realizing the incomprehen

ts practiced and steady. They took measurements, snapped

entry, no signs of a struggle-

been locked fr

eir expressions unreadable

tly pushing boundaries. She was sixteen, quic

e. We had long grown used to it-worrying ourselves sick, though she always cam

fferent. This time,

preliminary investigation. They offered the

om, curled up on the bed

oked out, her voice barely

, tears streaming

l into an exhausted sleep,

the floor, books piled haphazardly, a half-eaten bag of chips resti

ted note was open on the screen. I knew Annabelle's habits. She always used meaningful dates.

te was

e Other Mom."

hill washe

om? What di

h computers-she knew all about enc

tely no prank;

loorboard cre

ugh it might leap out of my throat

ore a faded nightgown, her frame thin and looking incredibly frail. "Kelly

m the laptop as if I had been burned. "Just... looking for

? Too quiet." She stepped further into the room, her gaze sweepi

oft humming comin

Our mothe

ard the direction of

the doorway-where Mom was still stan

be in two pl

e, her face etched with sorrow. "Did you hear s

me, erupting in goo

. Was I going crazy? Grief, trauma... t

aid: "Beware of

hat Annabe

softly. "I didn'

go make a cup of tea. My head is splitting." With t

at had just happened. The chill linger

at my

... the O