The Last of Us

Two

"Talia?" 

The room remains silent. 

I glance around the group, trying to remember her face after last week's first meeting. I've never been good with recognising people I barely know. This, frustratingly, is no exception. 

I remember vague details like the colour of her vibrant red hair and the sad past that she shares with so many of these girls. Yet another man who had taken advantage of her, taken her innocence at 14. 

"Talia?" 

Someone coughs. Another shift in their seat. The silence only grows louder. 

I scan the digital list of names, having already ticked off nine of the ten. There is no note here that she would be missing today's meeting. 

I scroll through the notes I had taken of her story, similar in many ways to what I had experienced. What so many have experienced. 

My eyes begin to unfocus as I stare at the screen, reading the list of information about her. She'd been quiet last week, listening intently to everyone's words. Respectable. That much I remember about her. 

"She's probably running late," Danni calls, drawing me from my trance. 

I nod. "Let's get started then."

I go around the room, asking anyone who didn't share last week if they would like to. I want to listen to what everyone has to say but I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. 

I can't shake the feeling the entire meeting. Some of the girls watch me oddly like I'm not really here at all. Like I'm not speaking clearly enough.

I try my best to mask the feeling out of fear that I will frighten the girls who have already been through so much. 

But Talia doesn't show up for the remainder of the meeting. I don't receive a single explanation. 

Until the very end.

The girls begin to disperse for the day as I begin to stack the chairs. 

Claudine hangs around, helping me clean up. The rest of the group file out the double doors, some of them talking quietly to each other. 

"You don't have to stay behind," I say.

She shrugs. "I've gotta wait for my mum anyway. I only live five minutes from here but mum doesn't let me out of her sight these days. She has to pick me up from everywhere."

"My mum is still like that. Maybe less so over the years, but especially in the beginning, she made sure she knew where I was at all times," I say. 

She stacks two more chairs, lifting them up as she walks towards the back wall. I notice the few scars that litter her arm. I look away, giving her some privacy. 

Everyone has a story. Some don't need to tell theirs in detail to understand the horrors they've endured. 

"I could always drive you home if you need," I offer. "I don't live far from here either."

She nods, smiling awkwardly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I struggle trusting strangers now. My friendship circle is small for a reason. Besides, the last thing I want to do is frighten mum. She'll be here soon."

"Of course," I say, sincere. "Trust me, I get it."

Her phone begins to vibrate and she excuses herself for the week. I watch her as she exits briskly and my heart sinks. 

She often holds a hard facade but she clearly doesn't want to worry her mother any more than she needs to. 

I'm cleaning up the last of my things when the double doors swing open again. Before I look up I expect it to be one of the girls returning because they've left something behind. 

My heart stutters when I see that it's my supervisor coming toward me. It isn't the fact that Liza is here. She's always been a kind woman to me. A mentor in some ways. Someone I've relied on during my darkest moments. 

It's the look on the woman's face that stops me in my tracks. She's usually so upbeat, so excited to help women regain their strength. To overcome adversity. 

"Liza?" I say, almost breathlessly. 

I've often wondered what it was like for my mother in the moments she realised I was missing. I wonder what went through her mind. It's something that I've always been curious about but she's always avoided the topic. 

"Oh god, it's been so hard not sharing this with you all morning," she holds a hand against her chest, trying to calm herself. 

It's then that I see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she begins to shake her head back and forth.

"What's happened?" I say, alarmed. 

"Oh god, Harlow," her voice cracks and she reaches out for the seat behind her before she loses her balance. 

"You're scaring me," I say softly, crouching before her. 

"I can't believe this has happened." 

I try to keep my frustration tamed. I can see she's in a bad place. Whatever has happened isn't good. 

"Start from the beginning," I soothe. 

She looks me straight in the eyes and I can feel her terror flowing freely from her as she tries to find the will to speak. 

"I got a phone call early this morning," she gulps. "A woman. She was asking for Talia Blackwood. Her mother was calling because she didn't come home last night."

She doesn't need to tell me much more for the eery feeling to consume me again. That gut-wrenching tug that keeps you grounded. The knowledge that everything is so very wrong.

"She didn't sign in for her meeting with you today either," Liza's lip begins to quiver and I wish more than ever that I was a comforting person. That I could wrap my arms around her and make her feel even slightly better. 

"She called me back half an hour later," she whispers, eyes wide. "I couldn't understand her at first. She was hysterical. I knew something was wrong but I just didn't think— I didn't think someone could have such terrible luck in life."

"They found Talia's body, Harlow. She's dead."