Chapter 6 Missing Without a Trace

I drifted somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, as if I were awakening from a deep, never-ending sleep. My body felt heavy, as though it were sinking. The air carried the sharp scent of dust and something like burnt plastic. This wasn't home. It wasn't familiar.

Slowly, I opened my eyes, my lashes clinging together as I tried to shake off the haze. My vision was blurred, like I was looking through water. I could hear quiet footsteps, like someone was nearby, and a faint, familiar voice, a soft murmur checking on me.

Gradually, my sight began to sharpen, and I saw someone leaning in front of me. His features started to take form as I blinked again. It was Dominique. He looked tired, his face strained and anxious.

"Do you feel better, Izalea?" he asked gently, his eyes searching for mine, like he was scared I'd slip away if he looked away for even a second.

I was too drained to answer. My head throbbed, heavy and slow, as though the rhythm of my pulse was resonating throughout my entire body. I slowly pushed myself up, and the world seemed to tilt around me. I held onto the couch for balance and looked around.

Glass lay shattered on the floor. A lamp had been knocked over. The coffee table was flipped on its side. The whole room was a mess.

A chill ran down my spine. "Where's Mom?" I asked, my voice dry and scratchy. "What happened?"

Dominique noticed the dryness in my voice and stood up, walking out of the room. My heart thumped as I stared at the wrecked room. Where was she?

He came back with a glass of water and handed it to me. I took a few sips. The cold water soothed my throat, but not the panic inside me.

"When I brought you in," he said, sitting down again. "The front door was open; I didn't touch anything. But the place looked like someone had been here. Like, there was a fight."

His words hit me like a cold wind. I looked again at the mess, each broken piece feeding my fear.

"A fight? What if they took her?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Dominique... What if she's...."

"Hey." His voice cut through my panic. He moved closer.

"I feel awful," I admitted, my voice wavering. "She called so many times, left all these messages, and I just kept ignoring her."

Dominique's expression softened, but I couldn't stop. "Now she's missing, and I feel like it's all my fault. I didn't dare to talk to her."

He reached for my arm, pulling me into his gaze. "Izalea, none of this is your fault. You didn't ask for any of this."

I shook my head. "She never wanted me to go down this path, Dom. She warned me about fame, and now look where I am... all this mess, and I didn't listen."

Dominique didn't say anything for a while, just held my gaze. "I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen. But blaming yourself won't change anything."

I bit my lip, the weight of everything pressing on me. "I just hope nothing's happened to her. I don't know what I'd do if something happened."

Just then, my phone vibrated on the nightstand. I grabbed it.

A message from an unknown number flashed on the screen: *Up already, sleepy head? Took you long enough to wake up, love.*

My breath caught as I stared at the message, trying to wrap my head around how they knew I had just woken up.

My fingers tightened around the phone as I stared at the message.

The words looked playful, almost harmless, but in this context, it wasn't just wrong. It was invasive. Someone was watching.

I rushed to the window, yanking the curtain aside just enough to peek through. From the outside, it looked like nothing was wrong. A jogger passed by, headphones in, absorbed in his music. It all looked... normal.

My chest tightened. "They're using her," I whispered. "To get to me."

Dominique turned toward me. "What is it?"

I handed him the phone, unable to form the words.

The moment he read it, something shifted in him. He didn't speak, just started moving with purpose. Pulled open the curtains. Checked behind the bookshelf. Looked under the tables. Upon the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice thinner than I expected.

"Looking for a camera."

The thought hadn't even crossed my mind, but the moment he said it, I felt the dread settle in, slow and cold.

I stood frozen, watching as he moved. He checked the outlet, then the TV stand, before his eyes landed on the air vent. He grabbed a chair, climbed up, and yanked the cover off.

A tiny camera was hidden inside, blinking quietly.

My stomach flipped.

"Were they watching?" My voice was barely audible.

Dominique climbed down, holding the camera between two fingers. He looked furious.

I stared at the surrounding walls. They suddenly felt alive. Like every surface seemed to have eyes. Like, nowhere was truly safe.

"How long has it been there?" Dominique muttered, almost to himself. "Were they watching her before she disappeared, or did they plant it after?"

Without a word, he dropped the camera to the floor and crushed it beneath his heel. Glass and metal crunched beneath his foot. But it didn't make me feel any safer.

"What do they want from us?" I asked. "Why her?"

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it.

The phone vibrated again.

*Looking for mommy?

We were counting on it. You never fail to play your part; almost disappointing how easy it is.*

I handed Dominique the phone again. His eyes darkened as he read it. "We need to go," he said sharply. "This isn't just a message, it's bait."

He turned to me. "Let's go, Izalea."

I hesitated. "Just one more thing."

I wanted to move. I really did. But leaving now felt like walking away from her. Like every step away from this place made the distance between us permanent.

"I just need to know where she is," I said quietly.

Dominique's voice turned urgent. "Izalea, come on. They could be watching right now. If we don't leave, we don't have a chance."

Where is she? I typed. What have you done with my mom? This isn't a game.

The reply came almost instantly:

*Your mother's safe... for now. Keep it that way by following our instructions. Be stupid enough to involve the cops, and there'll be consequences.*