Chapter 2 : Past

I'm on FaceTime with my boyfriend when there is a gentle knock at my door.

Quickly adjusting my tank top to hide my exposed boob, I hang up without warning. Climbing from my bed, I pace across my carpeted floor to open the door.

My Mother's dimpled smile greets me. Her golden brown hair is pressed straight, grazing her exposed shoulders from the strapless green romper she's wearing.

"Going somewhere without me?" I ask with a grin.

"That business trip I told you about," she responds, toying with the strands of my messy hair.

I open my door a bit wider, welcoming her in before walking away. And of course...she doesn't bother to close it behind her.

"You look gorgeous. Did Dad see you in this romper?"

"No," she utters, but I'm already reaching for my phone to snap some pictures.

"Give me a nice pose, Ms Fashion Designer."

She runs her fingers through her hair before tucking her hands in her pockets and turning to the side, "Is this good?"

"Perfect!" I smile, forwarding it to Dad. I type a quick caption, ignoring the messages popping up from Vincent, who is upset that I ended the call.

I mute his notifications before handing my phone to Mom, who gasps, "You didn't...seriously, Serena? 'She found a richer man'"

She throws the phone on the duvet before pushing me on the bed and straddling me, both my arms and feet are tucked between her legs.

"No! No, please!" I beg, knowing what's coming next.

"Oh yes!" she exclaims, brown eyes wide with excitement. Her fingers find the sensitive spots on my neck and torso, "Don't mess with a person who knows your weakness."

"You sound like some wise old elf," I tease, already breathless from laughter.

She starts tickling me, leaving me wiggling and shrieking, begging her to stop.

"Dad! Please...aaahhhh, Dad!" I shout, knowing he's already searching for us after I sent that picture.

He finally appears at the doorway, smiling uncontrollably, "What am I going to do with both of you?"

"She started it!" my mom laughs, finally releasing me from her super-strong hold.

She's very determined, you see...to torture me with tickles.

I stand up, casting her a glare, "Keep it up, and I'm getting a restraining order."

Mom mocks me with a crybaby face, "grow up...you big baby! Who's afraid of tickles?"

"Look at you...a 42-year-old bullying your 19-year-old daughter. You should grow up!"

She rolls her eyes, "Well, no more tickles for you until next week. Consider yourself lucky."

I pout, "I'm very lucky actually-but a whole week though?"

But she's too busy wrapping her arms around Dad's neck and pecking his lips to answer me.

I fall back into bed, "Guys...you're in my room, remember?"

Dad chuckles, "She started it! She can't keep her grabby paws off me. Ughh." He mocks while in the act of smothering her face and neck with kisses.

I run a hand down my face, "just...just leave. Please!"

He sweeps her off the floor with one hand, already heading out the door. While she giggles, whispering in his ear.

"Whatever you do, don't come find us!" Dad shouts from down the hall.

"Ew," I mutter to myself, shaking my head so the thought doesn't take shape.

~

I constantly check my messages to see if my Mom has replied as I sit on a stool around the island, eating a snack.

It's been hours since she stopped replying. She's been keeping me posted since she left the house. So I had a weird feeling that something had happened.

I didn't want to worry Dad, so I didn't mention it. But as I sit, poking the small pieces of fruit soaked in yogurt...I couldn't think of anything else.

About 5 hours ago, she sent me a pic of her lunch. Smoked Salmon and steamed vegetables.

I had replied saying, "fancy."

Since then...nothing. And come on, it's been 5 hours!

I've tried calling...nothing. Messages have stopped sending to her phone.

I'm one minute away from ripping my hair out and screaming. Where is my Mother? She was scheduled to land 2 hours ago. If her phone had died, she should've been able to get at least a bar right now.

Plus, it's impossible not to reach her. She not only has a phone, but a tablet and a laptop and all of them are interconnected. She receives calls and messages on everything.

I hop down from the stool, no longer having an appetite. Dad went out earlier, saying something had come up. Why wasn't I tracking her flight in the first place?

I quickly dial my father to ask him for the details, but the phone goes to voicemail. Persistent, I continue calling him. Still not getting an answer.

Night has fallen, and the landscape outside is invisible...consumed by darkness. I am home alone except for the presence of our helper, Louise, who has already retired to her quarters for the night.

Right now? I'm positively losing my mind.

I leave my phone on the counter as I walk toward the glass doors that open into the backyard. The moment I slide open the door, although it's a strange thing to say...I felt the darkness envelop me.

It is weird how the chill of the night doesn't leave goosebumps on my skin like it usually does.

Weirdly, my blood is already cold.

That's how I knew, even before my father walked through the door, calling my name that my mother didn't walk off that plane.