𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅

Charlie Hendersons pov (caras father)

"The news blared through the dimly lit room, the screen filled with somber images of Cara Henderson, Charlie Henderson's daughter. It had been nearly two to three weeks since her inexplicable disappearance, and my heart sank each time I saw her name flash across the screen, a haunting reminder of her absence. The report recounted how she was last seen leaving school, stepping into a sleek black SUV, and after that—nothing. The local police were tirelessly searching for Charlie’s beloved daughter, but with every tick of the clock, hope felt more fragile, slipping through my fingers like sand. Every day brought renewed anguish, and still, there were no leads, no witnesses stepping forward.

I couldn't bear it any longer. The relentless cycle of the news struck me like a physical blow. I shut off the TV and collapsed back onto the mattress, my body sinking into the worn fabric, and struggled to keep my eyes open. Days had blurred into an endless, exhausting haze, and sleep seemed like a luxury I couldn't afford. Drowsiness enveloped me, distorting my thoughts until I felt as if I were teetering on the edge of insanity. My head spun, my arms hung limply at my sides, utterly devoid of strength. I had felt worse than this before, but now, all I could do was cry, tears flowing freely, my sorrow washing over me like a relentless tide.

Years of absence haunted me—how could I have let so much time slip away? I had failed as a father, and now, my daughter was gone. Nobody had heard her voice, seen her face, or felt her warmth since that fateful day. It felt as though she had vanished from existence, and the world moved on as if she never mattered. The suffocating weight of despair pressed against my chest. Why wasn’t I out there finding her?

Then, a sound broke through my thoughts: a knock on the front door. My heart leaped in my chest, the flicker of hope igniting within me. Maybe this was the sign I had been praying for—something good, at last.

I hurried downstairs, nearly tripping over my own feet in my eagerness. Swinging open the door, I found the detective I had spoken to a few days after Cara vanished. He had been a semblance of help, at least, which was something.

“Hey Charlie, can I come in?” His voice was slow, weighed down by something deeper than fatigue.

I nodded, a nervous tremor in my hands as he stepped inside, taking in the sight of a home slowly being engulfed in neglect: empty pizza boxes and scattered bottles of alcohol, evidence of my crumbling world. With each passing day without Cara, I could feel my life unravel.

After he closed the door behind him, he walked over to the dining table and settled down, pulling a worn notebook from his jacket. He was a middle-aged man with caramel skin and tired, light brown eyes that reflected a shared exhaustion—dark circles underneath revealing sleepless nights of his own. His hair was clipped short, faintly fading at the sides, and I could see in his posture that he carried burdens of his own, perhaps standing on the brink of despair, just like me.

“Charlie…” he began, his voice low and soft. “I hope you’re doing okay. I know it’s a stupid question, but I’m genuinely worried.”

I shook my head, tears welling up again, blurring my vision.

“No… but I will be, right? You have good news for me, don’t you?”

He nodded slowly, managing a weak smile.

“We’ve got footage of her at the nightclub, dancing with someone. We’re working on figuring out who he is. It’s a long process, but I promise you, it’s worth it.”

Relief flooded through me, a breath of fresh air in the suffocating haze of despair. I hadn’t expected this glimmer of hope, and gratitude washed over me, even as tears prickled at my eyes.

“Thank you…” My voice trembled, the floodgates breaking as I dissolved into tears, the pain spilling out like a torrent. I didn’t care how I looked, the pain too overwhelming to suppress.

“I’m sorry—”

I could barely catch my breath, the reality of my regrets pouring out in a rush. “I was so busy… so busy chasing my career... I missed everything. This beautiful girl has grown up without me, and I wasn’t there for her—how could I? I’ve missed the most important parts of her life, all because I thought success meant more than being her father. I miss her laughter, her smile, her face… it feels like everything is falling apart without her.” I broke down utterly, spilling my heart onto the table as he reached for my hand, pulling me into a comforting embrace. It felt surprisingly good to have someone who understood, someone who didn’t just stand there while I fell apart.

“I promise we will find her,” he murmured, his voice steady against the chaotic storm of my emotions. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, alright?”

Stepping outside a moment later, I felt the weight of the world pressing down on me once more. It was a terrible mistake—my yard was swarming with paparazzi.

“Charlie! Can you tell us what’s happening so far in the search for your daughter?”

“Were you responsible for her disappearance?”

The second question stabbed through the murmurs of the crowd, silencing everything as I turned toward the source, my anger igniting like a flame.

“No! I am not responsible for my daughter’s disappearance. I chose my career over spending time with her, and that was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I will regret it until the end of my days. If it comes to it, I’ll quit being a lawyer when we find her. She is my everything, my entire world, and I won’t let her go. So stop being so nosy and asking hurtful questions, and just… let me grieve in peace.” My voice came out stronger than I felt, a spark of satisfaction pushing through the tumult of emotions as I fell back into silence, clutching onto the fragile hope I’d been given.