They walk around each other in silence, not saying a word.
Mom sniffs at a few tears as she chops the onions. I don't know what's really causing them, but Dad doesn't even flinch.
What happened to our family?
A memory of the four of us sitting around the dining room table - the one we never use now - playing a board game flits through my brain.
Jody was giggling her head off at Dad's funny faces. Mom whacked him on the shoulder to make him stop then clutched her stomach as another round of giggles took her. I watched them with a huge grin, trying not to laugh at how silly Dad was being. Once he had our two giggle buddies in hysterics he stopped and shot me a knowing wink. Our entertainment was set for the night. We watched with amusement as they both tried to pull themselves together, but after one look at each other, they'd both snort and start all over again. Dad gazed at Mom with adoring eyes.
I look at Dad's eyes now and they're blank, lifeless... numb, just like mine have been since that awful day.
"I would do anything to change the past, you guys."
They don't hear me... and I guess it doesn't really matter. I can't change the past. I can't change what I did or what happened.
I just have to live with it.
I mean, they will just have to live with it; I can go ahead and die.
Tired of taking in the desolation, I turn and head back to my room. I know I've been wandering aimlessly for the last few years, but I feel more lost than ever as I take a seat in my cold, quiet room. I sit in the armchair by the window and gaze into the darkness.
Time ticks by in slow, painful minutes. My body starts to ache with a coldness I haven't felt before. I wrap my arms around myself and curl into a ball. My head is throbbing again and I wonder if I'm about to return when I hear the doorbell ring.
Jerking from my dark meanderings, I sit up and listen.
I strain to recognize the voices and it's not until they're all stepping into my room that I see the sheriff appear from behind my mother. Her eyes are round with worry as she turns to him.
"So, here it is."
The sheriff nods, placing his hands on his hips and surveying my orderly surroundings.
"She certainly has a lot of books."
"Yes." Mom smiles. "She used to love reading. I'd always find her up here with her nose buried in a book."
"Funny, she never struck me as the reading kind."
The guy's barely said two words to me, how would he know?
My father clears his throat.
"She hasn't been into books for a couple of years now. High school brought out a different side in her. She's not at home as much anymore."
The sheriff shoots my father a pitiful look.
"Don't look at him that way." I stand up and walk to his side. "So you're the perfect father? You've never made mistakes before?!"
I don't know why I'm standing up for Dad, but I despise that look of judgement on Sheriff Hutton's face. He's never lost a child, how would he know what to do?
I jump back before the Sheriff puts his foot through my boots. He goes to my desk and rifles through some pages, reading bits and pieces.
"It's just my homework."
His eyebrows raise in surprise as he notices the A- on the top of my latest assignment. I try to snatch it from his hand, but the paper doesn't move. I stare at the paper, concentrating really hard and am reaching for it again when he drops it back to my desk.
"So, where do you think they'll start the search?" Dad looks hopeful as he gazes at the sheriff.
"That's not really why I'm here, Mitchell." Sheriff Hutton turns to face them with a sad expression. "I've been on the phone for a large portion of the day, I've chatted to her friends, I've asked around. The thing is..." He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "We're not sure if we have the resources and funds for a search with absolutely no starting point... and the chances that Nicole has run away are so high... we've decided not to go ahead."
"What?"
My father steps forward, anger and grief playing tango with his expression.
My mother's wide eyes fill with tears and she bites her lower lip.
"I'm sorry, folks."
"What if she didn't run away?"
"Do you honestly think she hasn't?"
My parents both look down and shake their heads.
I can't believe he's doing this. I can't believe he's giving up on me before even trying. The urge to stand up and scream in his face is warring with the urge to curl into a ball and fall asleep forever.
"We'll do what we can, Trudy. I've spoken to the L.A.P.D. already. I've just come to collect a recent picture of her and then I can scan it for them. They'll keep an eye out for her."
My mother wipes at her tears and glances around the room.
"Um... we don't have much that's recent." Guilt is dripping from her words; I can hear it wafting through the air. Regret sucks. "Maybe she has something on her computer or... in her drawers. Just give me a minute."
Dad steps over to my computer and brings the screen to life. He starts looking through my folders to no avail. I'm not too worried, as long as he doesn't open my Facebook page, I should be fine.
I glance over at my mother and see her pick up my diary then rifle through the drawer beneath.
"Mom, don't." I shoot over to her, but not in time.
Her face drops with disbelief and disgust. I forgot I left those prints in there. I mean who even prints photos now anyway?
I think about the day I found the inside of my locker decorated with these party shots. I forced myself to laugh until I managed hysterical giggles, but I remember being quietly humiliated. As soon as everyone walked away I ripped them out of my locker and buried them in my bag.
I should have just thrown them away.
Stepping up beside Mom, I look over her shoulder and wince. The photos are hardly flattering. They were taken this summer when we went to Drue's cabin for the weekend. Alcohol had flowed and drunken antics had followed. Mom is staring at one of me half-naked, making out with Trent by the water's edge. I want to snatch it from her fingers.
"Stop looking at those... please."
She flips over to another one where me, Amber and Penny are flipping the bird at the camera thinking we are oh so cool and funny.
My mother closes her eyes and drops the photos back in the drawer.
"Find anything?" The sheriff turns.
Mom slides the drawer closed and shakes her head. "No, nothing."
"I think I've got something."
Dad enlarges the picture on screen. He's found a shot of me staring at the camera. My eyes look void of life and my mouth is set in a tight line. I look annoyed, but at least I'm dressed and not doing any rude gestures.
"That's the best you've got?"
My Dad looks ashamed as he nods at the sheriff's question.
"Okay, well e-mail that to me then and I'll get onto it first thing in the morning." Sheriff Hutton hands Dad his business card.
My father nods then goes about opening up his webmail and attaching the photo.
"What was she wearing the last time you saw her?"
Sheriff Hutton pulls out his notebook, his pen is poised to scribble down a description.
Dad glances up from the screen and catches Mom's eye. She shakes her head.
"I didn't see her leave on Tuesday and Mitchell wasn't home."