On the car ride home, Maya and Anna remained silent. Maya was never much of a conversationalist, especially concerning her stepmother. Anna seemed lost in thought after speaking privately with Maya’s therapist.

Anna seemed troubled. But it’s understandable; she’s recently found herself raising a teenage daughter all on her own — someone else’s teenage daughter, at that.

The car radio’s low volume filled the silence.

“…It has been over three months since the horrible tragedy shook the nation…”

Maya sighed inwardly, already familiar with the story about to be discussed. It was a narrative known to almost everyone by now due to its constant presence in recent months. The topic was school shootings, a grim reality no longer new to the people of this country. This recurring tragedy had a unique twist this time.

The story involved an ill outsider, an ex-police officer in his thirties, who committed a crime at a high school. Several students and teachers were killed, and more were injured. The perpetrator or the motive behind his heinous act wasn’t the main focus; instead, it was the student who stopped it.

“…We have no updates on the missing student who reportedly intervened during the incident. The injured student remains at large and the search continues. Police urge citizens to report any information pertaining to the case.”

Indeed, months had passed and the girl was still missing, not letting this story rest. Never turning up in hospital records despite having injuries that needed attention. With a suspicious background, no one truly knew who she was and where she came from before she began attending the school. The investigation continued to widen its search to no avail.

As usual, news outlets played overused sensational sound bites with ill-informed and false statements from supposed witnesses. Due to the girl’s mysterious background, people speculated whether she was an accomplice or a hero, spawning wild conspiracy theories.

A student vanishing from the scene was a breeding ground for speculation. Some claimed she was involved right from the start, falsely believing she already had a gun. A younger student’s statement was repeatedly aired:

“I was there. When the bullets started flying, we all hit the ground. But then she took the gun and started shooting back. She shot him, like, eight times. It was bang, bang, bang… I couldn’t look. All I could do was keep my head down and hope I wasn’t next.”

It was all repeating recordings that had been circulating for months. Maya questioned how they were allowed to continue playing debunked recordings that spread misinformation. She wondered if there could even be eight bullets in a handgun that had already been fired multiple times. It was becoming increasingly difficult to discern the truth.

Some people pretended they would have acted the same, some were grateful she stopped the incident, some blamed her for not intervening sooner, and Maya was tired of it all.

For Maya, the news of the students’ tragedy was a painful reminder, not of the students’ ordeal, but of her personal tragedy—facing her father’s rapid decline before passing away. As their story dominated the news, her life was crumbling.

‘Had it already been three full months?’

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Funny how an unrelated tragedy far away can echo your own, simply because it happened roughly at the same time. And it’s what everyone keeps talking about. The whole world was giving out their hearts to the victims, raising awareness about mental health and healthy relationships.

Maya felt a twinge of… resentment.

Because of them, her suffering was silent. She felt as if she had lost her right to grieve. Her father had slipped away quietly after a long period in a vegetative state. His passing wasn’t sudden or shocking; it affected no one but Maya. Despite becoming an orphan, the world’s attention was fixated on saluting a dead girl.

Like most, Maya had presumed the missing girl had been dead from the start. Given she was shot, fled, and hadn’t sought medical attention or been found, it was a grim and predictable end to a captivating story that intrigued those who imagined themselves capable of acting in such circumstances.

People either idolized her as a hero or vilified her. It was an open-ended story for everyone to write what they desired. Maya had grown weary of it all. Although she still hated it, it no longer incited anger within her—it was just another story out there.

“…This summer, there’s a record number of missing children in the US. Not only are horrors like this story gaining traction, but also teenagers running away from home. We need to ask ourselves: is it time to examine our education system?” ”Just teenagers being teenagers—they tend to run away from home.” ”Ohoho, I wouldn’t go so far—”

Anna switched off the radio as soon as she realized what was being aired, hoping to spare Maya any additional stress of some horrible old tragedy.

“Doctors say you’ll be well enough to start school on time, but I was thinking you should take some time off. Maybe a week or two, even a month if you want.”

“I can’t skip school,” Maya responded with a vacant gaze out the window.

“It won’t be skipping. I was thinking of enrolling you in a private school. The world out there is just too chaotic. Here, I’ve got some pamphlets.”

As Anna began to search through the compartments, she continued, “We should be fine financially. I’ll make sure you have the option to go to college later if you want.”

“It doesn’t matter…” Maya murmured.

Maya had felt empty inside for some time now. The feeling began to creep in after her mother’s death and intensified after her father’s passing a few months ago. She had yet to regain her emotions.

Anna handed Maya some of the pamphlets she found in the car, then returned her focus to traffic. Maya silently pretended to read them.

During her father’s comatose state, Maya’s school life crumbled. She neglected her superficial friendships, finding herself utterly alone. By spring’s end, she rarely attended school and stopped completely after her father’s death. She knew she’d have to return when the new school year began, but it felt like a meaningless routine—merely a tether keeping her from fading entirely from this realm.

Her mind drifted back to the story from the radio, a topic she found less distressing than school. She resented this story because it was the talk of the town during her personal hardship. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, it was merely another case of a teenager disappearing. The only difference was that this case was louder than most others who vanished silently.

The sensationalism surrounding this case did a disservice to itself, overshadowing its core tragedy: a teenage girl had vanished—and she wasn’t the only one.

Maya wouldn’t have noticed the pattern if she hadn’t stumbled upon Anna’s hidden research. It contained newspaper clippings and printouts about similar cases of missing teenagers. Maya didn’t care why a humble hairdresser who had married rich would be interested in this, and she never asked. However, it made her see the reality of the case she once despised with her very core.

‘Did I read a horror story with a similar premise recently? Strange. I can’t seem to remember what was the last book I read…’

It didn’t matter in the end. Maya wasn’t reading for the joy of it for a very long time. It was just something that filled up her worthless existence.

Combining all her thoughts, Maya began to wonder what it would be like if she, too, disappeared.