My Sister's Missing, and I'm on Trial

"I'm talking to you. Are you listening?

"Let the ribs cook for a bit. Come see what David got you. He spent more than 30 dollars on a jacket. He picked it out just for you."

Still stiff with unease, my mother, Harper Quinn, dragged me into the living room.

My stepfather, David Lambert, was busy setting up a computer, looking pleased with himself. He narrowed his eyes when he saw me, then picked up the jacket and walked over.

"Come on, try it on. The celebration is tomorrow. You need to dress nicely. Don't go wearing those ragged, patched-up clothes and embarrass us," he said.

Mom took the plain black jacket from him and smoothed my hair. "This jacket alone could buy Abby a whole lot of ribs. See how good David is to you? Go on, thank him."

It was the first time David had bought me anything since he and Mom got married.

I struggled to force the words out. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're all grown up now. You're a good boy."

David reached out to pat my head, but I instinctively took a step back. His smile froze for a moment, and his narrowed eyes grew cold.

"Alright, go try it on. Mr. Lane will be there tomorrow, so make a good impression. Try to get him to hire you. Once you start working at his factory, keep your head down and work hard."

I lowered my head even further, clenching my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.

Mom sighed and tried to comfort me.

"Abby's teachers all say she has what it takes to get into Bromwich College, one of the top colleges. Wouldn't it be better for her to stay in school and make something of herself?

"We're already struggling to support her. That computer nearly emptied our savings, and private tutoring will be another huge expense."

I felt like I was being suffocated, unable to draw a proper breath.

Abigail Lambert was David's biological daughter.

I was merely the burden Mom had brought into this family. I was only 15, yet they were already planning to make me drop out of school and send me to work at Patrick Lane's paint factory.

I'd heard most of the workers there were people with intellectual or physical disabilities. The factory was filled with toxic chemicals and poisonous fumes. Most people wouldn't last long working there.

To them, my life was worthless.

Abigail was the one who mattered, the family's pride and only hope.

I clenched my teeth and forced myself to speak. "Abby is missing."

Mom froze as she pulled me toward the bedroom to change. "What do you mean? Wasn't she at her tutoring class? How could she be missing?"

"Her tutoring class ended around noon yesterday. She kept asking me to buy her ice cream, but I didn't have any money. So I took her with me to the scrap yard to sell the bottles I'd been collecting."

I trembled as I spoke. "I told her to wait outside while I went in to sell the bottles. But when I came back out, she was gone. I searched everywhere, but I couldn't find her—"

Before I could finish, David grabbed me roughly by the hair. "You lost Abby?"

I lowered my head, too terrified to meet his eyes. "I don't know. She disappeared. I searched everywhere, but I couldn't find her—"

The television in the living room was still airing the report about missing children.

David grabbed me by the throat, his face twisted with rage. "You bastard. You'd better be joking. If you really lost Abby, you're going to pay for it with your life!"