Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
001. Missing ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
AMARA WAS STARING at her own face. On a motherfucking tree. The thick, burning red letters above spelled 'Missing'. Missing. Missing Missing.
For four entire years, Mara believed her life to be one of a caged bird. That she'd have to sit by and stay silent as more and more seconds of her life passed. As minutes she could have spent exploring the unknown were wasted on her father's tales. The man did love to talk, a fact that caught numerous people off-guard.
He told Mara about the people he sentenced and sent to jail, the older woman who cried in the stands and the lawyer who stumbled over her words. Every peculiar detail of her father's hearings was known to Mara. With all this insight, the girl could have been the one writing a protocol afterwards.
The problem was her father's love for the job. The way he adored the feeling of control, the rush he got off deciding someone's fate. Frank Parish felt like a god in a courtroom. But over time, that love turned into an addiction. His work never left him, even at home. Every time Mara did something wrong, he forced her to plead her case, so he could decide whether she was guilty or not. Unfortunately, the odds were rarely in her favor, and the girl gained more permanent 'lessons' than she could count.
Until eventually, even Amara reached her limit. Until finally, she had enough.
Three months ago, her father explained that one of the criminals he had found guilty would be released soon. In fact, he actually warned her and advised to stay alert for the time afterwards, because apparently, the convict wasn't the greatest fan of Mara's father either. Mara was aware that if even her father was concerned, the threat was real.
A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It felt like this golden star dangling in front of her nose, lighting up the dim tunnel of despair. Where her father saw danger, she recognized escape.
Instead of staying at that house, she'd run away. Perfectly timed with the release of the convict, Mara would fake her kidnapping. She found a way around his safety-net of convictions, of criminals that are rightfully behind bars because of him. Because, after all, the safety-net was what forced her to stay silent. The fine strings that had been gradually strangulating her would become the leading instrument of her freedom's symphony.
Murderers like Rosalind Dyer would continue rotting in their cells, while she would savor each and every breath of liberty and peace. Mara solved the riddle that kept her imprisoned in a house ruled by a mortal man who loved to play God.
After the idea enveloped her brain, all her thoughts centered around her newly found hope, Mara began to plan. She plotted and arranged, schemed, and framed. Every minuscule of her plan was sublime, excellent.
