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I can only manage to stare at that open bathroom archway, frozen in place as people pass through it.
I don’t understand why I fixate on it for so long. Maybe it’s because it’s the last place I saw Milo enter. Maybe I’m waiting for him to come out. My eyes remain glued to that damn archway, unable to look away, even as I hold onto the other three boys, hugging them tightly.
On the edge of my consciousness, I am aware of the world erupting into emergency measures. I know, on a logical level, what is happening, but I’m trapped in this numbing haze, unable to break free.
He’s going to come out of that bathroom any second.My eyes blur, struggling to stay open, stinging and burning as I focus on that cursed archway.
Matty steps in front of me, his hands cupping my face. “Hey,” he whispers urgently, peppering kisses on my forehead. I can tell he’s talking to someone, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Then, like a switch being flipped, my gaze locks onto Matty. The world crashes back into focus, and a little voice in the back of my mind whispers,Find him and kill whoever took him.
“Milo,” I murmur to Matty, his presence grounding me as his thumbs gently brush away my tears. “What…” I choke on the word, my tongue refusing to cooperate.
Reality hurts too much.
The world moves in slow motion as we rush out of the cafeteria and into the faux forest. People are shouting, and sirens are blaring in the distance, but all I can hear are Winston’s agonized sobs and my heart pounding in my chest. I clutch the boys tightly, ensuring they stay safe.
But Milo isn’t safe, and I can’t rest until I find him and make whoever took him pay.
Matty takes charge, his voice cutting through the disarray like a desperate lifeline. He’s barking orders at the teachers and staff, trying to bring some semblance of order to the chaos. His words penetrate my ears, but they are a distant echo, drowned out by the deafening absence of Milo’s voice. I can see the fear etched on Matty’s face, a mirror of the terror that grips my own heart, but he doesn’t falter. He’s always been my rock, my protector, and now he’s our only hope.
He searches through the foliage, his voice rising in desperate unison with others, calling Milo’s name over and over again. Each cry feels like a plea to the universe, begging for a sign, for some trace of him, but there’s nothing—no response. It’s as if Milo has been swallowed by the shadows and vanished into thin air.
A small hand slips into mine, and I look down to see Johnny staring up at me, his innocent eyes brimming with tears. “Ms. Hart, is Milo going to be okay?”
I’m torn. I don’t have the heart to lie to him, yet I can’t bear to shatter their hope. “Of course he is,” I reply, my shaking voice infused with a determination I’m trying to muster. Milo has to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.
“Charlotte.” The teacher from the bus rushes over to me, her voice trembling with the same fear that claws at my insides. “Charlotte, let me take the boys. Go and look.”
I nod, my chest tightening with a cocktail of dread, determination, and a fierce need to find Milo. I need to bring him back. As I reluctantly release the boys’ hands into the care of their teacher, I brace myself for the harrowing journey that lies ahead, praying that I’ll find Milo safe and sound.
Turning in a circle, the world blurs and wavers before my eyes. Desmond’s enforcers are busy ushering people out of the cafeteria, their expressions steely and their holsters gleaming in the harsh cafeteria light.
Matty is in a corner with the phone pressed to his ear, his voice stern as he barks into the receiver, commanding the necessary help and resources.
Driven by a restlessness I can’t contain, my legs start to itch with nervous energy. I bolt toward the bathroom, my mind a whirlwind of worry and fear. Time has lost all meaning, stretching and contorting like a surreal, elastic reality.
I step into the bathroom, realizing my fatal mistake.
A single, elongated hallway stretches ahead, leading to one of the other corridors. To the left is a U-shaped ring of stalls with a line of sinks to the right. My heart pounds as I grasp the potential danger. Anyone could have entered from the other hall, and I would have been oblivious.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, and a surge of panic rises within me. I have to tread carefully. Each step echoes with the weight of uncertainty as I approach the corridor. My senses are on high alert for any sign of danger.
“Oh, Milo, I’m so sorry,” I murmur, pressing my fingertips to my mouth, feeling a wave of desperation and helplessness. I push past Desmond’s men, my movements fueled by a mixture of fear and determination. Each stall door slams open at my touch. I have to see for myself. I have to confirm he really isn’t here.
Twenty-four stalls occupy this bathroom, and not one of them holds my baby brother.
My eyes fall on the last toilet, but instead of seeing porcelain, I see a memory of wiggling chubby toddler legs connected to a determined little boy eager to potty train. I recall the stool I bought him the next day—green and shaped like a frog. I remember how he fell through the toilet because he refused to use the toddler seat, and I remember how much we laughed after the ordeal.
Rolling my lips inward to stave off tears, I back away and venture down the other hall. My eyes sweep left then right, recognizing this as the science hall.
Milo’s favorite.
The memories blur with the present as I wander through the hall, haunted by the echoes of his laughter and the brilliance of his curiosity. Every corner holds a fragment of him, a reminder of the joy he brought into our lives. I clutch those memories close, hoping they’ll guide me to him.
A heart-wrenching sob escapes my chest as I inch toward the end of the hall, where the doors open to the outside. I push through them, finding teachers calling for their students to line up. The field trip is ending abruptly.
There’s so much space and so many people, yet there’s no Milo.
