SEBASTIAN’S POV
The tension was palpable as Roland and I stood outside the weathered house, its paint chipping away like the last remnants of hope.
The street around us was eerily quiet, but not in a peaceful way. It was the kind of silence that pressed down on you, suffocating and heavy, filled with eyes watching from behind curtains and cracked windows.
I could feel their stares burning into my back, curious and judgmental, whispering questions I didn’t have answers to.
“Sebastian,” Roland’s voice broke through the oppressive quiet, his tone tight but measured.
He’d been trying to keep me grounded since this started, but his patience was clearly wearing thin.
“We can’t just stand out here like this. We’ve already been seen. Let’s go home. We found her here-that’s a start. We’ll figure out the next step there.”
I didn’t bother looking at him. My eyes remained fixed on the broken-down porch of the house. It didn’t matter if the neighborhood was watching or if we were drawing unwanted attention.
The world could crumble around me for all I cared-none of it mattered as much as finding her.
“I’m not leaving until I find something,” I said, my voice low but resolute. “She was here, Roland. I know it. There has to be something that will tell me where she went.”
Roland sighed heavily, the kind of exhale that carried a thousand unspoken frustrations.
“We’ve been here for almost an hour, Sebastian. The house is empty. You’ve looked inside, outside, around the damn place. There’s nothing here. You need to accept that.”
I turned to him sharply, my glare enough to make him take a half-step back. “I don’t accept anything until I’m satisfied. If you want to leave, go. But I’m not leaving her behind.”
Roland didn’t move, though I could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to argue, to force me back into the car and drag me home if he had to, but he knew better than to push me right now.
Instead, he muttered something under his breath and leaned against the car, crossing his arms like a parent waiting for their child to finish throwing a tantrum.
I turned back to the house, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. The place was a wreck-a forgotten shell of what it might have once been.
The windows were boarded up in some places and shattered in others. The front door hung slightly off its hinges, creaking every time the wind passed through.
It wasn’t the kind of place I ever imagined her being in. She didn’t belong here, in a neighborhood that reeked of despair and abandonment.
But the trail had led me here, and I trusted my instincts. Someone had seen her, someone had spoken, and now I needed to find the rest of the puzzle.
I stepped onto the porch, the old wood groaning under my weight. The sound grated on my nerves, a constant reminder of how fragile everything around me felt.
Pushing the door open fully, I stepped inside, the air heavy with dust and mildew.
“She was here,” I whispered to myself, scanning the dimly lit interior. “She had to be.”
The living room was bare, save for a few pieces of broken furniture scattered haphazardly across the floor. An old couch sat in the corner, its fabric torn and stained beyond recognition.
I walked over to it, pulling back the cushions in search of… what? A note? A sign? Something that would scream her name and point me in the right direction.
Nothing.
I moved to the kitchen next, the linoleum floor peeling and cracked beneath my feet. The cabinets were mostly empty, though a few had rusted cans of food tucked away in the corners.
I opened each one, ignoring the cobwebs and the occasional scurrying sound of rodents.
Still nothing.
Frustration boiled in my chest, threatening to overflow. I slammed one of the cabinet doors shut, the sound echoing through the empty house.
“Sebastian,” Roland called from outside, his voice strained with annoyance.
“You’re wasting your time. If she was here, she’s not anymore. Let’s go.”
“Not yet,” I snapped, my tone sharp enough to silence him for the moment.
I checked the bedrooms next, if you could even call them that. The first was nothing more than a glorified closet, its walls covered in graffiti and its floor littered with broken glass.
The second was slightly larger, with a single mattress lying in the middle of the room. I approached it cautiously, kneeling down to inspect it.
There were no blankets, no pillows-nothing that suggested someone had been staying here. But then I noticed something.
A faint imprint on the mattress, as if someone had sat there recently.
My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“Roland!” I called out, my voice echoing through the empty house.
He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression a mix of irritation and concern. “What is it now?”
“Look,” I said, pointing to the mattress. “Someone’s been here.”
Roland frowned, stepping into the room to get a closer look. “It’s an old mattress, Sebastian. That doesn’t prove anything.”
“It’s fresh,” I argued, standing up and pacing the small room. “Someone was here. She was here.”
“Even if she was, she’s gone now,” Roland said, his tone softer this time.
“You need to stop torturing yourself. This isn’t helping.”
But I couldn’t stop. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more desperate than the last. If she’d been here, where had she gone? Who had taken her? Was she safe?
I moved to the window, pulling back the tattered curtain to look outside. The street was just as I’d left it-quiet, unassuming, and filled with too many eyes.
“Sebastian,” Roland tried again, his voice gentle but firm.
“We need to leave. You’re not thinking clearly, and this isn’t going to get us anywhere. We’ll regroup at home and come up with a plan.”
For a moment, I considered ignoring him again, letting my stubbornness drive me to search every inch of this place until I found something.
But deep down, I knew he was right. I couldn’t keep running in circles, not when so much was at stake.
“Fine,” I said finally, my voice heavy with defeat. “Let’s go.”
Roland looked relieved, though he was smart enough not to show it too much. He nodded and turned to leave, waiting for me by the front door.
I took one last look around the room, my eyes lingering on the faint imprint on the mattress. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the fire burning inside me.
I would find her. No matter what it took, no matter how long it took, I would bring her back.
With that thought in mind, I followed Roland out of the house and into the waiting car. As I slid into the passenger seat, I felt the weight of failure settle over me. But it wasn’t over-not yet.
Roland started the car, the engine roaring to life. He glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable.
“We’ll figure this out,” he said quietly, as if trying to convince himself as much as me.
I didn’t respond. My mind was already racing ahead, planning my next move.