Page 2 of Missing

The man's voice was deep and commanding, rough like gravel underfoot. "Harper Hillstrom?" he asked.

I scowled at him, my patience worn thin from the long day. "Who's asking?" I retorted, not in the mood for cryptic strangers.

"Someone who knows more about you than you do." He leaned in, invading my personal space and causing me to bristle with irritation.

"If you're selling something, I'm broke as a joke, buddy," I snapped back.

A hint of amusement flickered across his lips, but it didn't quite reach his deep-set eyes. "I'm not selling. I'm here to take you to Oakland Harbour, and you have 10 minutes to gather your belongings before we leave."

I blinked at him, trying to wrap my mind around this unexpected turn of events. Part of me wanted to argue, to tell him where he could shove his time limit. But deep down, I knew that ignoring Oakland Harbour's call was not an option.

"Fine," I spat out begrudgingly, feeling resentment simmering on my tongue. Turning on my heel, I could feel his eyes following my every move as I made my way back to the chaos of my room.

My hands shook uncontrollably as I frantically packed a duffel bag with whatever clothes I could grab. Each item felt like a weight in my grasp, a heavy reminder of the harsh reality of leaving everything behind. With each article of clothing – jeans, shirts, undergarments – I added to the pile, I felt a sense of heaviness in my heart.

But there was no time for hesitation or sentimentality. The Suit's voice cut through the air with an icy detachment, reminding me that time was not on my side. "Harper, you need to hurry," he barked.

I gritted my teeth and refused to let his condescending tone get to me. "I'm going as fast as I can," I snapped back, pulling the drawstrings tight on the bag.

As I turned to leave, my eyes fell upon a small wooden box tucked away on a shelf. The smooth grain of the wood bore the markings of years spent hidden away, holding secrets and unfulfilled wishes. My mother always claimed it was my father's box, left behind just for me. Empty and worthless, like all of his promises, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it behind, the only thing tethering me was the words written inside the lid, “When they come calling, go without a fuss”.

And I wondered if this was what it was hinting at, Oakland Harbour’s call.

Grabbing a photo from underneath a stack of unpaid bills, I felt a pang in my chest at the sight of my mother. In the picture, she was pregnant with me and her face radiated with joy and innocence that had long since been replaced by sorrow and alcohol. It was one of the rare moments captured where she seemed truly happy, and it stung to see her like this.

"Times up, Harper," The Suit's deep voice rumbled as he appeared in the doorway, a looming presence that urged me to move even faster.

My fingers tightened around the photograph and box, my knuckles turning white with the effort. The edges of the picture cut into my skin, a sharp reminder of what I was fighting for. "Give me a damn second," I grumbled to myself, trying to hold back the emotions rising in my chest.

"Very well," came the measured reply, tinged with impatience. The Suit stood before me, an imposing figure with his sleek black suit. His gaze was unreadable as he looked down at me, waiting for me to make my move.

With a heavy heart, I shuffled towards the door of my dingy apartment, my arms full of mismatched items that made up my existence. The sunlight outside felt too bright, and too crisp compared to the darkness inside.

"Take my hand," he commanded, holding out a gloved palm. "Hold on tight."

"How?" My voice was a scratchy record, warped from disuse and disbelief. My arms were full, my life bundled in an overstuffed duffle and the remnants of a broken family clutched against my chest.

In one swift motion, he plucked the wooden box from under my arm and held it securely in his grasp. "This will be safe," he reassured me, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. "Now, your hand."

I took a deep breath and reluctantly offered him my hand. The moment our fingers touched, the reality seemed to shift and twist around us.

There was a jarring sensation and then suddenly we were standing on soft grass. My bare feet sank into the dew-covered ground as I stumbled forward, barely managing to maintain my balance.

"Shit," I muttered, glancing down at my dishevelled appearance in disbelief. The cold morning dew soaked through my thin pyjamas and chilled me to the bone, but it paled in comparison to the icy fear that gripped my heart.

The man's voice was a low, commanding rumble, like velvet darkness whispering secrets in the night. "Leave your belongings," he said, his words firm. "They'll be taken to your room."

My mind spun like leaves caught in a whirlwind as I tried to process the situation. With trembling hands, I set my bag down by his shoes, silently agreeing to this madness.

"Room? What—" My thoughts were cut off by his hand gesturing towards the imposing structure before us. Its grandeur took my breath away, a stark contrast to the cracked linoleum and stained walls of my home.

"Who are you?" I managed to ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear creeping into it.

"I am your guide," he replied with a smirk as if savouring my confusion. "For now."

"Guide to what? Hades?" I retorted, using sarcasm as a flimsy shield against the unknown.

"Oakland Harbour," he answered flatly as if stating the colour of the sky.

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