"Police and citizens are in complete disbelief over this entire case. Exactly three years since local Tampa girl Carly Hall was kidnapped in front of her house, another girl was violently snatched while she slept at a friend's house, only a few blocks away. Twelve year old Amber Callaway was kidnapped a week ago, as she was having a sleepover with her close friend, Mallory Philips. Many remember Philips from three years earlier, for she was the only sole witness to her best friend Hall's abduction, desperately helping the police recover a sketch of the abductor. Citizens are stunned to hear the news of yet another one of Philips friends having been abducted, for police are beginning to wonder if she is the real target by the perpetrator," the news played on the radio as we drove in the car, my Mom quickly switching it off as the silence only filled the air next. Nothing but the quiet noises of the turn signal flashing on, or the sound of other cars whipping by us on the road. The slight breathing from my parents, as if they were tensed by something although I knew they weren't. It was nothing I tried to blow it off as.
"This is huge. Everyone's going to be surrounding her again. All eyes on her," my Mother spoke up, as revealed she was a bit tense, and my Father who was driving only glanced at her as his dark hair moved slightly away from his eyes.
"Well, maybe that's a good thing," he tried deliberating with her, however that didn't seem to work well as she shot him a glaring look right away.
"What do you mean a good thing? No it's not. Do you want our daughter being harassed by the media? By reporters? Don't you remember how bad it was a few years ago? We had to have the police here to keep everyone away. We could barely leave our house. And with her going to school, that was awful as well. They just followed her everywhere!" My Mother seemed very passionate against the media, for she did have every right to be. It was crazy a few years ago, as I had almost forgotten how bad it really did become. With the press pretty much surrounding our house, trying to peak into every open window. Following us everywhere, as they only wanted to speak to me, ask me questions about my missing friend. The times I couldn't walk to school for they would surround me further on the street, surrounding the school as well. It was indeed crazy, and I for sure did not want a repeat of that. For our small town didn't have big news occurring, and this had become the greatest—not greatest—biggest news story for years. Terribly big.
"Well no, I remember that and I know that wasn't a good thing. But think of it this way, the press and reporters are always around, which will keep her more safe from that man. She won't be alone, there will always be people around."
"Yeah, people around to take pictures of her and videos, putting them on the news and in the paper for that creep to see her even more!" My Mom rose her voice, still fighting with my Dad as if he couldn't get his point across for my Mom to listen, until he finally just let out a deep breath of exhaustion, continuing to only drive as we chugged down the road.
The last week had become a complete mess. I was excused from school on the Monday, spending majority of the day at the station speaking to officers Harold and Michaels, although that was all. Spending the other half of the day locked up in our house, surrounded even more by press and people who wanted to speak to me, to my parents, to Carly's parents and Amber's. However it seemed I was even bigger news than years ago, with the police proving their theory that I was a target, the press seemed to want to eat that right up. Wanting a great story, for me to comment on at least something related to the case, however I wouldn't. I couldn't.
School was hell the next week, people staring at me wherever I went, for the principle had told my parents the teachers and him would try their best to keep the press away, as well as police vehicles being stationed just near the front doors, in case any problems seemed to break out. I didn't want to think of any problems, for that worried me more than before. Teachers walking on egg shells around me, as well as students while people I had never spoken to had came up, apologizing as they stuck around me more. I was instantly brought back to years earlier, the memory of everyone wanting to be my friend, feeling sorry for me as they surrounded with stares, their apologetic expressions, as well as unwanted attention. I was the popular one now—again—however not in a good way. I couldn't get away unfortunately. It was the same everywhere I went.
Mom and Dad had become worse, if that was possible. Always hanging around me as well, always wanting me to go everywhere with them, like on this very day, as we drove further into town heading towards university mall, for reasons I wasn't too sure on. They didn't want to be seen by reporters and the press, yet they want to go to a busy shopping mall on a weekend? That's just great. Great thinking. I almost laughed to myself.
We got there too soon. The parking lot full of overloaded cars pulled into spaces, squeezing together as if they were gonna hit each other's vehicles. Damages that would cause the owners to sue each other, like many people did in America.
My Dad drifting up and down the lanes of parking spots, not a single in sight for awhile to go. The hot, blazing day made it alright to even park in the very back, for it wasn't too hot out. Not like other days we could have gotten, the temperature nothing past thirty, not too bad for us.
"Mom, why are we here again? I thought you didn't want to go out with all the reporters and press," I asked up while my Dad took the corners widely, avoiding the other cars as my Mom looked back from her mirror.
"I know hun, but your Father needs some new shirts and I didn't want to leave you home alone. Especially not now since we know.......that man can break into our home," my Mom spoke of something nerve racking as I knew that very thought crept into her head almost every night before she went to bed. That thought sticking in my head as well, even with the police car stationed out on the front street. I was still scared something awful.
"Well, why don't we just go in a few weeks, when things die down a bit."
"Honey, they won't die down for awhile. Remember last time? Things didn't stop until about a year later, and this time it's worse. The crimes are connected, everyone knows it now. It's a bigger story. And bigger stories are followed up for longer. We just have to get used to it," she spoke with a type of hurt in her voice, for I knew she was right, she did as well, however we didn't want it to be true. But it was.
My Dad finally finding a parking space, the only good thing about a day out was the fact that I got to forget about my situation for awhile. Well, maybe not the situation, for the stares from everyone brought me back to it. However it did help me forget about the guilt I carried around. The guilt from the whole thing, the grief, the pain I suffered from loosing both my friends, both of them my fault. Stop. Stop saying that it isn't your fault. It's not your fault, it's his fault. The person who took your friends. It's his fault.
No. It's mine. If I had stopped him, if I had moved that day from my spot, and helped Carly, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if I woke up and helped Amber that day, it wouldn't have happened. They wouldn't have been taken.
Or maybe, you would have been taken as well. Who are you trying to foul? You were only nine when Carly was taken, what could you have done? You are only twelve years old now. What could you have done if you did wake up? You still couldn't have done anything. So just stop.
But I could have helped. I could have. I could have stopped it.
No you couldn't.
I fought within myself over the whole thing, for one side of my head screamed one thing, while the other hollered the other, and I could see both sides. Which one was the right one?
I could almost feel the stares as soon as I stepped out of the car. No one around at all, however that prickly feeling inside me, as if someone was watching kept sliding up inside myself, for I couldn't stop it at all. My parents walking ahead of myself, as I placed my hands in my sweater pocket, as I followed along closely behind them both. As if trying to hide, like a frightened child does. But there was no use of hiding, for my parents both peered back at me, as if making sure I was still there. Unfortunately I was.
The crowds making me tense up inside, as I watched everyone pass and go by. The food court opening up first, until the stores began venturing down the hall set up. My insides swirling around inside, my nerves fluttering away as well. I felt a cold sweat coming on, as I was just waiting for people to look my way, to say something maybe. But nothing at first. I was relieved.
We didn't stop to eat at all, for my parents made a beeline towards one store in particular, one of the only men's clothing stores my Dad would shop in. He was rather easy to buy clothes for, mainly shopping in one selected location, not being too picky at all. It was nice when it came to Christmas or birthday gifts, for I could pick out anything in the store and most time's than not he would wear it.
My Mother on the other hand was rather picky with her clothing, like fashionable outfits, shirts that hung off her shoulders more, something in the tones of dark shades like grey and black and navy. She was more specific, as I also joined in on her clothing selections, however I was more laid back. I could wear anything to crew necks, to v-necks, to things that hung off the shoulder as well. At twelve I didn't mind wearing funky colours, however even recently I had begun to grow out of that, wanting shades that matched almost everything I owned. It just looked nicer that way, as my light hair would stand out the most while I wore the darker colours, and I enjoyed that aspect very much so.
The store coming up, as my Mom had ushered me to walk beside her more, not so far behind as she wanted to keep her eyes on me, like I knew she would. It wasn't too bad in the mall, for I had expected the stares to extenuate a lot worse than what appeared to be present at the time. However it seemed I spoke, or thought too soon, as my parents and I entered a larger, more busy section of the mall, and one by one eyes began to fall upon myself. The hot lights beginning to turn into spotlights in the mall, I felt like I was on display. Eyes crowing down upon myself, the burning sensation tingling all over. I didn't have to see others staring to know what was occurring, I already did. And my whole situation smacked me in the face, the realization of what everyone else was thinking blurting out in my head. They know it's all your fault. Everyone thinks it too. Everyone hates you. They think you should have helped your friends. They think you should have stopped it from happening. They know this is your fault, you can't get away from it.
The looks of pity I felt turned into rage almost, or perhaps that was all in my head. But I could almost feel the tension in that mall, people staring at me as I passed on by, their oblivious and shocking looks not surprising me the most. Stop staring at me I know I am the one to blame. I don't care if the police don't blame me. I blame myself, and I know everyone else does too.
"Mom, everyone's staring," I tried whispering, as she bent over towards me a bit to hear my tiny voice fill her ear.
"I know honey. Don't pay attention to them we will be quick, I promise," she tried helping me relax, although I couldn't at all, and she had to know that by now.
My Dad took longer than I thought, me sitting in the waiting area as he tried a few shirts on, my Mom going into the change room to give her honest opinion. Bored, I only sat on a chair close to the room, fiddling with my hands as every time I peered up it seemed a pair of eyes would shoot a look away from me, as if trying to cover the fact that they were staring moments ago. I wasn't that stupid. I knew too well. Those butterflies returning each time that happened, for I felt as if a fish out of water. I wasn't comfortable here. I wasn't comfortable anywhere. Would I ever be comfortable at home, at school, in town again? I wish I had that answer, but just like the rest of the questions circling my head, I did not.
I felt as if the day dragged out further, for all I wanted to do was go home. Away from the crowds, from the whispers that gathered whenever I turned a corner or someone caught a glimpse of me. I wanted the day to be done with. And it soon would, as my Dad finally found a few shirts he fancied with my Mom's pick and fashionable eye, as we headed towards the counter. The sales associate eyeing us pretty good, for he was an older man, one who had been catching glimpses of me the most as I had been waiting for my Dad to finish up his shopping spree. The sales associate standing behind the till as if awkwardly, wanting to say something, but didn't open his mouth. Not for awhile that was. Handing my Dad his bag full of folded articles of clothing after he payed, the receipt stuffed inside, as the associate finally did open his mouth that seemed to belong to a thirty year old.
"I've heard about your family on the news. I'm sorry for everything you have gone through, especially you Mallory," he turned his attention towards me in the final statement, my stomach twisting still as he spoke my name, as I could see the unsettling expressions crossing my parents faces as well. How does he know your name? My name?
You idiot, you are all over the news. You heard it yourself in the car that morning, they said your name a few times.
Startling and stunned my parents were as well as myself. "My family and I have been praying for you. I hope they catch the man soon," he spoke the last of his comments, my Dad slowly grabbed the bag from him as they still stook by the counter as if off beat, still shocked by what he had just said. I assumed they were used to the stares, however not used to people coming up and actually approaching us. Speaking to us about everything that happened. It was off putting.
"Th.....thank you," my Father spoke up eventually, him grabbing for my Mother's arm as she then grabbed for mine, as if she was escorting me out of the store, back into the monstrous crowded area with more vultures picking at us with their stares. We left right after.
The whole car ride home was silent again, my parents not wanting to go anywhere else after that encounter, on fear of others speaking to them. I was rather confused, my exact understanding why they were freaked out by people approaching them, as my Mom finally spoke up after some moments of stillness in the air.
"How dare that man say something like that."
"He was just trying to be friendly. What's the big deal? He was just saying he was sorry for everything we are going through. Calm down hun," my Dad tried to sympathize, for it seemed he was more on the easy going, go-with-the-flow type guy as my Mom was more uptight with things. More uptight when it came to me now, especially going out places or out to school.
She kept quiet for awhile, as if letting what my Father had just spoke sink in. She wasn't always so uptight, however with all the press turning towards us again, that side of her definitely bulged out more. As if taking over the protective side for me, trying to keep me out of view from the reporters. Her love shining through more when she acted that way, for she felt as if a mama bear protecting her cub. My mind boggled as I remembered a time years ago when the two of them hardly did anything with me, hardly took care of me. Hardly cared for me or loved me. Now, with all of the tragic occurrences happening to my friends it seemed, they jumped on that loving, protective parents boat, keeping me safe, something I thought they would never do. I liked the relationship I had with my parents now, for they did more things with me. We had begun family game nights. Movie nights. Shopping sprees over the years. My Mother took more of an interest in me, fixing my hair sometimes, braiding it for me after I had a shower, making it all curly for the next day. We talked about things going on in school more, my life more. She would hold me and hug me, wrapping around with love when I was upset, hurting, crying, had a bad dream, when I was sick, or if I just needed her to be there. She always was. Now she was. And it truly was sad to think this all had happened, just because my friends had gone missing. It was sad to think they had to disappear for them to finally take a notice in their own child. To finally care. To finally love. As if this was their boost, their push start, the event that kicked them into action to be better parents. And that was the only thing I was thankful for with the circumstances that occurred.
Pulling into the driveway in the back once we returned home, for no reporters thought to hide in the back lane to snap pictures of us. They all remained in the front, trying to get the best angles, the best shots. However they didn't realize the best shots would be truly in the back, as they could get a quick few snap shots of us running in the house. However, thankfully they didn't think of that at all. I could tell they were still around, for you could hear the slight sounds of pictures being taken, the snap as more people spoke over others. Although I had no clue what they were speaking of, for I didn't get close enough, or listen carefully in order to hear every detail. I just wanted to get inside.
The sky darkening as we entered the house, the clock high above the wall reading around 7:47 pm. The reporters would be packing up for the day, heading home to their own families until the very next day would drop by, and there they would be bright and early in the morning, back on our front lawn. Perfect.
Another thing to look forward to the next day, another interview scheduled with officers Harold and Michaels, for they wanted to go over every little detail over the topic of Carly's abduction, and now Amber's. Wanting to find the similarities, and match them up this time completely. Oh boy, how fun that would be repeating myself over and over. Yay.
Heading to my room as my parents started on dinner, my mind still wondering about the other questions they were sure to ask me once again the next day. Have you seen that man at all again? Have you seen him following you? Have you had a sense that he is following you? Have you gotten any weird phone calls? Or mail? I already knew those answers, and so did they. But they still had to ask, lucky me that was. But he wouldn't come back here, right? They said he probably had left town, is that right? I hope it is. But if he did leave town, then why would he ever call? Or send mail? I don't get it. Why would he do that? That doesn't make sense. We don't have any trails on him. If he left mail for me or called, he would be setting up a trail for himself, right? Couldn't they track him somehow if he called or sent mail? He isn't that stupid, right?
I tried to let the topic wonder off, awaiting to pick it back up for tomorrow, for I would be asked those same questions in my head, and perhaps the police could have answers that I couldn't seem to find. Maybe.
Pacing into my room as the dim light was glittering away, turning on my lamp as my grey curtains remained close, keeping away all prying eyes from the world. It worked better that way.
*RING*
I was startled for a second, the buzzing phone blasting its ringer as the home phone rung on the hook, causing me to jump up as my heart skipped more than one beat.
"I'll get it!" I yelled to my parents from the kitchen, for recently I had become the answerer of phones in the house. Most time's than not it was only officer Harold or officer Michaels, wanting to ask me a quick question, or wanting to schedule another time for me to come in. Since I had already booked that unfortunately for the next day, I was sure that wasn't the case this time.
Walking faster towards the hallway where one of our cordless phones sat, I picked up the large white block of a phone with the antenna, pressing the talk button as I held it to my ear.
"Hello?" I answered, waiting to hear the familiar voice of Michaels or Harold, however my stomach dropped as more butterflies began to storm up inside me, as I could feel the colour drain from my face. I turned ice cold.
"M........Mallory? M-Mal. It's.......it's me. Amber. You need to help me. He.......he won't let me go."