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She vanished just as the year ended. My mom. And no one said a word about it. Dad acted like it was completely normal for her to just disappear without a trace, without a word to anyone. Everyone around us was going about their business as if nothing was amiss, and it was driving me insane. January was almost over, and still, no word from her. So many scenarios were going through my mind, and they weren't good ones. I couldn’t stop the thoughts racing in my mind when I heard my dad call out my name. "Sam, you're going to be late! Hurry up so I can drop you off at school." A heavy sigh escaped my lips, but I replied, "Okay, Dad. I'll be out in a moment!" I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long while. My thoughts were galloping away again. Suddenly, I saw my mom behind me, her hands gently helping me fix my hair. I quickly shut my eyes and shook my head as though trying to shake off the vision. Another sigh left me, this time quiet, as I took one last glance at the mirror before turning away and leaving the room. We cruised down the road, just a few blocks from the school when I heard Mom's voice. "Now, don't stick your head out the window. The breeze will mess up your hair that I took time to arrange," she said with a frown. I quickly ducked my head back inside the car. I did not realize when we had stopped in front of a massive “posh” school, as my cousin Kelly liked to call it. "We're here," Dad’s deep voice snapped me out of my trance. I blinked, realizing we had indeed arrived. I must have been daydreaming again. I flashed my dad a sardonic smile before climbing out of the car. Just as I was about to close the door, I poked my head back in and said, “You can keep acting like everything is fine, but I won’t... I can’t. I’m going to find Mom, come hell or high water.” I slammed the door shut, not waiting to see his reaction, and walked into the school. Classes came and went, but my mind was consumed with visions of my mom’s body, bloodied, tied, battered– on the pages of my book, on the board, on the walls. It had been like this ever since she disappeared and I returned to school. Sometimes, the teacher's face would shift into my mom's. If this keeps happening, my grades are going to plummet for sure. That wouldn't be good. Shaking my head, I tried to focus on reality. “Yes, Samantha? Is something the matter?” Oh no, I had caught the teacher’s attention again. “Nothing, ma’am,” I replied, forcing myself to make eye contact. “Are you sure? There’s a pattern emerging here…” she asked, her tone cautious. “I said I’m fine,” I cut her off. My voice was sharper than I intended. Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing. "Miss Anderson, I’d like to have a word with you after class." “Okay, ma’am.” It wasn’t long before the bell rang for recess. Everyone started leaving, but I stayed behind, waiting for Miss Foster to finish arranging her desk. Once she was done, she turned to me, her gaze steady. "Samantha, you seem off lately. You scored 14 out of 20 on yesterday's test. That's not like you." “I also spoke to other teachers, and they said your performance has been slipping,” she added, her gaze intense. “Feel free to talk to me,” she said with a gentle smile. But as she spoke, I saw my mom’s face reflected in hers. I blinked and quickly looked away. I took a deep breath, then finally spoke. “It’s my mom. She…” The door suddenly flung open, cutting me off. A robust woman entered, glanced at me, and then turned to Miss Foster. “Foster, your attention is needed in the detention room.” Then she left. “Later,” Miss Foster said, turning towards the door, her voice a quiet afterthought. I grabbed my bag and left the room. I was heading towards the bathroom when I bumped into Bronson and Ricky—two boys widely known for bullying. “Oh, look who we have here. Hi, Samantha,” Bronson sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "I heard your mom's gone 'poof.' What happened? Did she get tired of seeing your ugly face?" He snickered. "Or maybe she’s halfway across the country, starting a new family,” Ricky added with a smug grin. My fists clenched at their words, my nails biting into my palms. No, Mom wouldn’t do that... Would she? Bronson, who had been watching me intently, noticed my clenched fists. With a slow drawl, he said, “Finally, a reaction from you. You know, everyone here thought you were just a walking statue.” Although he tried to sound indifferent, I detected a hint of surprise in his tone. I might be quiet, but I don’t yield to bullies. “Get out of my face, Bronson.” He laughed again and took a step closer. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you make me?” Without hesitation, I threw a hard punch at his face. “You b*tch!” he yelled, his face scrunching in pain and fury. Ricky just watched, eyes darting between me and Bronson. They couldn’t do anything about it, of course, since the school had a strict “no boys hitting girls” policy. But that didn’t mean I’d get away scot-free. The girl who hits a boy is punished – severely. In the school’s entire history, there had only been seven cases of a girl hitting a boy. A teacher saw what happened and dragged us both to detention. It was my first time there, unlike Bronson and Ricky, who were regulars. Miss Foster looked at me with confusion when she saw me being brought in. I just looked away. After detention, they assigned me to help a janitor clean a particular wing of the school. I dusted, scrubbed, swept, and rearranged. I was famished. By the time I got home, I was too exhausted to take another step. I collapsed onto the couch. I was jolted awake by the sound of the door opening. I bolted upright and my eyes locked with my dad’s. “Hi, Dad.” “Hey, Sam. How was school?” he asked, loosening his tie, the colour of which reminded me of a storm cloud, the kind that looms just before a heavy downpour. I shrugged. “I got placed in detention.” His head snapped toward me. “What?!” “You heard me correctly, Dad.” The silence between us was thick and heavy, like the stillness that hangs before a storm. Suddenly, my stomach grumbled, cutting through the silence and reminding me of how hungry I was. “I’ll go prepare dinner,” I muttered, standing up and heading for the kitchen. In the kitchen, I began preparing dinner, making extra since three of my cousins—including Kelly—were coming over. I could almost feel my mom leaning close to me, stirring the pot, her voice light and warm. “I prefer to boil the spices first, but you can do whatever suits your taste.” I stared at her, but before I could respond, she fizzled away. I laughed. Maybe I was going mad. I finished eating in the kitchen and went to my room. My cousins wouldn’t arrive until late at night. I was drawing to distract myself when I heard a soft knock at my door. "Come in," I called. Dad poked his head in, then his whole body. He had to bend to fit in the doorway—he was that tall. He sat beside me on the bed, his huge frame made my bed seem so small. “Hey,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” I blinked in surprise. An apology from my dad? That was new. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark about your mom. I can’t tell you everything yet… but give me three days. Three days, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” I smiled at him and gave him a side hug before he left. My cousins arrived while I was asleep, and they were as loud as ever. But at least they had the decency not to knock on my door. I woke up feeling more rested. It was a Friday, my favourite day of the week. Although I still had to serve that dreadful punishment, I wasn’t feeling sad about it. In fact, I was looking forward to it, something to keep my mind occupied. I freshened up and dressed for school then I headed to have breakfast, and I saw Grace, Kelly and Anne seated at the table and eating. Kelly was the first to notice me. "Sam," she called out. Then, one by one, they all turned to look at me. They sprang from their seats and engulfed me in what they called their “calming group hug.” “Hi, guys,” I greeted them. “You guys arrived late. Did the car break down?” “Yep,” Grace said. “Twice,” Anne added. I was finishing my breakfast when Dad walked in, already dressed and holding his briefcase. "Something came up, so I have to leave early. I won’t be able to drop you off at school." He looked at Anne. "Roxanne is the oldest among you. She even has a driver's licence. She’ll drop you off." He grabbed his car keys and tossed another set to Anne. “That’s the key to the red car,” he said before he left. I looked at Anne. There was no way I was letting her drive me anywhere. Sometimes I wondered if the person who gave her a licence had been drunk. “I’ll walk. My school is close by.” Everyone tried to hide their smile. They knew exactly why I declined. Anne shook her head and said, “Oh, ye of little faith.” I didn’t hesitate to respond, “When it comes to your driving, I have no faith.” And we all laughed lightly. I grabbed my bag and left the house. I’d just turned a corner when a car zoomed past me, then reversed and stopped right in front of me, blocking my way. My heart stopped for a moment. Two large men in black suits got out from the back seat, while a woman who looked not more than twenty five years, emerged from the passenger side. She had a scar about the size of finger, which ran from her left eyebrow down to her chin. "Miss," she called to me, her voice calm and commanding. “We’d like you to get in the car, miss,” she continued. Oh no, this wasn’t happening. Without a second thought, I ran, screaming for help. I heard heavy footsteps behind me. It wasn’t long before they caught up. One of the men grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder, heading back toward the car. I struggled, screaming all the while. Then the other man appeared with a handkerchief and pressed it to my nose. Everything went black.

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Fragments of Us

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Fragments of Us

Kylie12

Kaylene Jaren

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Fragments of Us

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