Missing
1840 Words
The scent of pancakes filled the kitchen.
Isla flipped one over, forcing her hand to stay steady even though she’d barely slept.
She could still feel him. His mouth. His hands. The weight of his body pressed her against the car.
God, what was wrong with her?
A small voice broke the silence.
“Aunt Isla?”
Ethan stood by the counter, hair sticking up, eyes half-lidded with sleep. His voice was soft, but the question hit like a knife.
“Where were you last night? You didn’t tuck me in.”
Isla froze, spatula hovering midair. For a second, she couldn’t find her voice. “I…uh…went for a run, sweetheart.”
He frowned. “You never go running at night.”
She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, maybe I’ll start.”
He didn’t buy it, but he nodded anyway, dragging his dinosaur backpack across the floor as he climbed onto a stool. Guilt curled in her stomach like smoke.
Then came Fiona.
No greeting. Just the slam of her bedroom door and the shuffle of teenage attitude entering the kitchen. Her phone was glued to her hand, earbuds dangling, eyes blank with that mix of boredom and defiance that only a sixteen-year-old could master.
“Morning,” Isla said, keeping her tone even.
Fiona muttered something she couldn’t really pick up. She dropped into a chair, scrolling like her life depended on it.
“About yesterday,” Isla started carefully, “I shouldn’t have yelled. I just—”
“I shouldn’t have yelled either,” Fiona muttered, not looking up.
“Well,” Isla pressed on. “You’re still grounded for six months.”
That got her attention. Fiona’s head snapped up. “Six months? You are kidding.”
“You’re lucky it’s not a year.” Isla slid a folded paper toward her. “Here. Chores. Start today.”
Fiona scanned it, scoffed, and pushed it back. “Can’t wait till I’m eighteen. Then I can finally leave this house and stop being treated like a prisoner.”
Isla’s lips thinned, her voice like ice. “Until then, you live by my rules.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Fiona shoved her chair back, muttering under her breath, but Isla didn’t stop her. She couldn’t. The house was already a powder keg; one spark and everything would explode.
Breakfast ended in tense silence. Isla drove them to school, eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror. Fiona stared out the window, face hard and unreadable. Ethan hummed softly beside her, unaware of the cold war brewing in the car.
When they reached school, Isla waited, watched, until Fiona disappeared through the gates before she drove away. Her instincts were screaming lately, and she didn’t know why. Something about Fiona had changed.
By the time she got to work, the exhaustion hit her full force. She dropped her bag, sat at her desk, and exhaled like she hadn’t in hours.
The office buzzed around her, phones ringing, printers whining, people laughing, and for a fleeting moment, she pretended she was fine.
Then her phone rang.
She answered without checking the caller ID. “Isla Simmons speaking.”
“Miss me?”
Her blood ran cold. That voice. That smooth, lazy arrogance.
“Travis,” she hissed. “Where is my car?”
He chuckled softly, the sound infuriatingly intimate. “Trashed it. Didn’t like how it looked next to you.”
“You what?!”
“You can take the Lambo. It’s yours now.”
“I don’t want your damn car.”
“Then don’t drive it,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “Keep it parked outside so everyone knows who you belong to.”
Her pulse spiked. “Are you crazy?”
“I’m patient,” he countered. “And curious.”
She could hear the smirk in his tone.
“Did you enjoy last night?” he asked.
She froze. “Excuse me?”
“The kiss,” he murmured, almost whispering the word. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About you.”
Her breath hitched before she could stop it.
He heard it, she knew he did, because he laughed softly, low and satisfied.
“You…”
“Careful, Isla,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “You make me want to do things I can’t undo.”
She slammed the phone down before he could say more, chest heaving, heart racing like it might break free.
For a long moment, she just sat there, staring at the screen as her reflection stared back at her. Her own eyes looked strange, wide, unsettled.
Travis Rossi was dangerous.
And worse, part of her didn’t want him to stop.
—
The moment Fiona Simmons walked into class, everyone stared like she’d just walked out of a scandal.
“Wait, you actually came to school today?” her friend Jenna blurted, eyes wide as she leaned across the desk.
Fiona rolled her eyes, sliding into her seat. “Relax. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” Maya said, grinning. “Last time we saw you, you were ‘too sick’ to take the math test.”
“Whatever,” Fiona muttered, twirling her pen. “It’s not like Mr. Peterson misses me.”
“Girl, please,” Jenna said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Forget Peterson. Have you heard about Darren Rossi’s party tonight?”
Fiona’s head snapped up. “Darren… Rossi?”
Jenna smirked. “Yup. As in Travis Rossi’s cousin. He’s throwing something huge at the old mansion in Belmont Hills. Private guest list, tons of influencers, the whole deal.”
Maya leaned in, whispering like she was spilling national secrets. “And guess who’s supposed to be there?”
“Who?” Fiona asked, trying not to sound too interested.
“Travis.”
The name hit her like caffeine. Fiona tried to act casual, but her heart did that stupid flip anyway. “You’re kidding.”
“Dead serious,” Jenna said. “People are already posting about it. There’s even a rumor he’s bringing some actress or something, but who cares? If we get in, you might actually see him in person and fall in love with you.”
Fiona’s eyes gleamed, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Then we’re going.”
Maya gawked. “Fiona, we’re not invited. It’s literally a private event. Security, guest list, the whole thing.”
“So?” Fiona said, shrugging. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll look the part. No one’s going to stop us. I’d have s*x with the security if I have to.”
Jenna gasped, half excited, half terrified. “Oh my God, you’re serious.”
“Deadly,” Fiona said, flipping her hair. “I’ve been following Travis Rossi since I was fifteen. I’ve watched every interview, every photo shoot, every little smirk that man gives on TV.”
Maya laughed. “You sound like you’re writing his biography.”
Fiona’s grin deepened, eyes glinting with that restless teenage daring. “Maybe I will, after I meet him.”
Jenna groaned. “You know your aunt will kill you if she finds out.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t have to. I’ll be back before she even knows I’m gone. She thinks I’m grounded, but she forgets…”
“You don’t listen?” Maya teased.
Fiona smirked. “Exactly.”
Jenna leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay, but if we’re really doing this, we need outfits, fake invites, everything.”
“Already on it,” Fiona said, pulling out her phone and opening i********:. “Darren’s party’s being run by some PR girl. I’ll find her, DM her, get the code for the guest list.”
“You’re insane,” Maya whispered, but she was already smiling.
“I’m a Rossi fan and in love too,” Fiona corrected with a wink. “There’s a difference.”
The bell rang, and Fiona barely noticed. She was already somewhere else, in her head, in a glittering mansion under strobe lights, staring across a crowd of strangers at the man she’s been daydreaming about for years.
For once, it wasn’t just fantasy.
Tonight, she was going to meet Travis Rossi.
No matter what it took.
—
The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came after bedtime.
The dishes were done, the lights were dim, and the weight of the day sat heavily on Isla’s shoulders.
She goes to tuck the kids in. First stop, Ethan’s room.
He was sitting up, still wide awake, his little nightlight glowing beside him.
“Hey,” she whispered, leaning against the doorframe. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, mister?”
Ethan grinned sleepily. “I was waiting for you.”
Isla smiled and sat beside him. “I’m here now.”
He fiddled with his blanket before asking, “Aunt Isla… do you have a boyfriend?”
She blinked, caught completely off guard. “What? No! Why would you ask that?”
He shrugged, shyly. “You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot. And you were gone last night.”
Isla laughed softly, shaking her head. “You notice everything, don’t you?”
Ethan nodded, serious.
She sighed. “There’s someone I… like, I guess. But it’s complicated. Grown-up stuff.”
“Why can’t you be together?”
She hesitated, her smile fading just a little. “Because sometimes, even when you want something… It’s not right. And you have to be the adult, even when your heart doesn’t want to be.”
Ethan’s little brow furrowed, clearly trying to understand.
She kissed his forehead. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Just sleep.”
“Okay,” he murmured, curling under his blanket.
Isla turned off the lamp and slipped out, closing the door quietly behind her.
She smiled to herself, a soft, tired smile, and walked toward Fiona’s room.
She knocked gently. “Fiona? Lights out, sweetheart.”
No answer.
Typical, she thought, pushing the door open.
Fiona’s blanket was pulled up, her form curled up beneath it.
Relieved, Isla exhaled. “Good. At least you’re home tonight.”
She turned to leave, and then she paused.
Something… felt off.
The room was too still.
Too quiet.
Her heart stuttered as she turned back, narrowing her eyes. There was no sound — no steady breathing, no soft rustle.
“Fiona?” she whispered.
She took a hesitant step forward, then another.
Her fingers grabbed the edge of the blanket, and in one quick motion, she yanked it back.
Pillows.
Pillows stacked neatly, shaped like a body.
Isla froze, her stomach dropping.
For a heartbeat, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Then it hit her, the lie, the trick, the disappearance.
“Fiona!” she shouted, her voice slicing through the silence.
The house stayed still.
She spun toward the door, eyes blazing. “Oh my God, Fiona, what have you done?”
- Writer
