To The Hopeless

CHAPTER ONE

LYDIA HANSEN

It’s been two weeks, nine hours, and thirty-six minutes since my best friend disappeared. It’s been the same amount of time since I’ve had a decent night’s sleep. The same amount of time since I’ve been back to my dorm room, and the same amount of time since I’ve gotten to this damned town in Georgia. Still, everyone seems to be going on with his or her lives like Cody wasn’t a part of it. Her boyfriend has returned home. He returned home within a few days, mumbling something about having a test on Friday. The last person to see her, her ex something or other— Mischa, was home twenty minutes after her disappearance. He’s their number one suspect. Apparently, I’m the only one who doesn’t think it was him. Nonetheless, everyone has insisted I move on with my life, but I can’t. Not with this huge gaping hole in my heart.
The only person who understands me right now is my stalker. Yup, you heard me right. I. Lydia Hansen, have a bonafide stalker. A guy who follows me around like a lost puppy and takes me out for dinner, fixes my computer, and listens to me when I complain. Don’t judge. He’s a sweet guy, a little dorky, but cute. He’s the one who has convinced me to stay in town. He's Bassam's old roommate, Abs. We went on one stupid blind date, but now we just talk text. Okay, so maybe he isn't exactly a stalker, but with the amount of text he's been sending, it feels like it. After day two, her chance of being found alive dropped significantly and it only keeps dropping with each passing hour. I have to make sure people don’t forget. Make sure I don’t forget Cody Lombardi.

People call me fearless, and I suppose I am sometimes. That is when it comes to everyone else. I push people, but I’ve never pushed myself. I’ve always known what I wanted and had access at the tips of my fingers. I wanted to be on stage; my parents gave me professional training. I wanted to record an album; Daddy called in favors and got me a record deal. I wanted to go to boarding school and live a normal life; I spent four years behind the safe doors of St. Cecilia’s Academy. My entire life has been a series of me asking and me getting. I never had anything that couldn’t be given. Until now. I put a reward out for the safe return of Cody, but no one has had any information. I can’t have my best friend, but most importantly, I can’t have the guy that I’m falling in love with. Killian Carmike. He doesn’t see me like that, he sees me as Cody’s best friend. All his energy is focused solely on her. Getting her home and bringing her back.  That was the one thing about Cody I could never understand.  She was so oblivious to her own beauty. If you were in her mind, I'm sure you'd never hear her talk about how pretty she is or how guys fall in love with her with just one eyebat. She was so beautiful. Model beautiful. Gorgeous.  Her chestnut hair and thin frame. Her eyes were so perfectly proportioned to her mouth. Here I am talking about her like she’s already gone. She isn’t. She’ll be back. She has too. Killian has done everything since Cody’s disappearance. Even his girlfriend, Suzanne, helped for a few days before returning to school up North. He finished up rebab so he could get out there. He made posters, helped lead the search team, he helped her parents get press releases together, and even took to social media to help spread the word. He used his father's Senator status to get everyone involved, and it sorta worked, until it didn't. There has been no progress, nothing, not even a hint of what could have happened.
Killian sits beside me, his fingers fidgeting as we wait for Cody’s parents to answer the door. When they open the door, I already know the news isn’t good. Her mom, so fragile, looks perfect as usual. Her makeup is thicker than usual, and her hair is cut in a new bob. What kind of lady gets her hair cut while her only daughter is missing?
“What’s the news?” Killian demands, not even caring that their faces tell it all.
“They found her body, didn’t they?” I ask, my voice cracking.
Cody’s father tries to usher us in, but Killian shakes his head.  “Just tell me, damn it.”
The old man’s eyes drop to the ground as if saying it will make it all too real. Each passing second seems to drag out. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart as the dreaded inevitability sits heavy against my stomach. My best friend is dead. She is really, really dead.
“They’ve found no evidence of foul play. They are giving up the search.”
“What?” Killian slams his hand against the doorway. “That’s ridiculous. It’s only been two weeks. She’s still alive out there. We can’t stop looking for her. What about that douche bag, Misha? He has to have her somewhere.”
“Misha’s a dead end,” I tell Killian. “He returned home within minutes. He didn’t have time to do anything.”
He puts his hands in his face and takes a slow deep breath.
Cody’s mom gives us a tight smile, the only smile I’ve ever seen from her. “The police think that she might have run off. They don’t think she was kidnapped.”
“No!” Killian’s voice rises. “She would not do that. She wouldn’t do that.”
Mr. Lombardi steps in front of his exwife. “You’ve hardly spoken in years. I wouldn’t exactly count you as someone who would know her best. Now if you’ll excuse us.  Cody’s mom and I need to discuss a few personal matters.”
He shuts the door in our face.
“I’m not giving up,” Killian says. I’m not sure he’s speaking to me, but I nod in agreement.
“I have money. I can hire a PI.”
“Your father has money,” I correct. As soon as I say the words, I regret them.
“I’m going to ask him for it. I’ll hire a PI, and we’ll find out if she ran away or not.” He begins stomping to his father’s house next door.
I follow behind like a little lost puppy. “Isn’t this kind of strange? A pretty white girl goes missing and the press doesn’t seem to care? It’s like the police aren’t trying.”
“If they admit that this was a kidnapping, they have to admit that Betty isn’t the safe town they advertise. They have to admit the faults of our town. It’s easier to ignore and stay out of the news.”
“Do you think your father will give you the money?” I ask.
His face is distant as he takes in my words. “Not for free. He’ll want something in return, I’m sure.”

CHAPTER TWO

Violet Cromwell

I turn the paper over in my hands, though I’m completely unsure of what I’m looking for. Words aren’t going to magically appear on the back of the receipt. The two words scrawled on the back in my mother’s handwriting tell me all I need to know.
For food.
 A twenty-dollar bill is taped to it. Twenty dollars doesn’t get you much these days. A pizza, a couple of frozen dinners, or sandwich fixings. My baby brother is crying in the back room. Who knows how long he’s been alone back there. I throw the receipt on the coffee table and put my backpack on the couch.
“Coming Daffy!” I yell. My mother was on ten different types of drugs when she named my little brother. Who the hell names their son after a Daffodil? Boys should have masculine names like Boomer or Hulk. My brother is sweet like a flower, though, and unlike me and my older brother, Mischa, the two of us get along wonderfully.
“There’s my little sweet pea,” I coo as I pull him from the baby crib. His diaper isn’t full, so she must have left recently. It’s not like my mother to leave him alone like this. She’s selfish, but not completely heartless. Daffy begins clawing at one of my hoop earrings, nearly tearing my earlobe in the process.
“Let’s get you some food.” I put him in his high chair with a handful of cheerios and grab the house phone to dial Mischa’s number.
“What?” he answers in his usual annoyed tone.
“Have you seen Mom?”
“No, why?”
“I just got home from work and she’s not here.”
“So? I bet she went out or something.”
“No, she left Daffy here all by himself and a note with money for food. I’m really worried, she’s sick, Mischa. You know that.”
He lets out a long sigh and the line goes silent. Mom has been sick for as long as we both can remember. She used to walk the house at all hours of the night and have conversations in her head with people only she could hear.
“Sit tight, Violet. I’m sure she’ll turn up.
“First Cody, now mom. Does something sound fishy?  Maybe we have a serial killer on the loose or something.”
“Don’t make this bigger than it really is. You know Mom will turn up. She always does. Give her a few days to get this out of her system.”
Mischa hasn’t left the house in almost two weeks, not since Cody disappeared.  Killian Carmike, the local senator’s son, pointed blame at Mischa, even went as far as publically trying to attack my brother, but Mischa would never hurt Cody. He cared about her in his own way. He thinks I don’t know about the money he accepted from her father to stay away from Cody, but I do. One just doesn’t magically come up with that kind of money and buy a whole house. We were days away from getting evicted. He did what he had to. He’s upset about it, I know, but he has a girlfriend and kid at home he needs to think about. She shouldn't even be worrying about Cody. Cody wouldn’t run away, but I do have an idea on who it might have been.  I hadn’t thought about it in months, but it came to me late last night as I was lying in bed. One of Mischa’s friends was obsessed with Cody. When she disappeared her senior year of high school, he would always ask about her, hint around with questions trying to figure out where she went and when she was coming home. Even after she left for college he would ask about her every time I saw him in town. It was so subtle, I can’t remember what the questions were or what his name was, but I remember he gave me an odd vibe.
“Hey, Mischa. Remember that guy Cody hooked up with at that one party the night before she was sent away to boarding school?”
“Do you have to remind me?” he whispers.
“What was his name?” I ask.

Chapter Three

Cody

The door opens, and my eyes adjust to the light as it flickers on overhead. Kill me, kill me, just kill me. Those thoughts have gone through my head so many times, it feels second nature. I want to die. I've been tied to this bed for days. Sometimes he'll let me loose so I can shower or use the bathroom, I stretch my legs during this time, but when I'm lying in this bed, if I move the wrong way, my entire body begins to cramp. I've given up wondering why this has happened to me. I only accept that it has happened to me. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I must have done something horrible.
"Cody...." his voice calls from the steps. I can hear him coming closer, bringing me the food that makes everything disappear. I'd refused to eat for days on end, but after a while, I gave in. When time began to slip from me, I realized he'd been poisoning the food. Whatever he puts in it, I need. I want to sleep. I want to forget everything. I want to be drugged. Please, let him have the food.
He removes the gag from my mouth and does the same routine from every other day. He unties my hands and legs, he lets me go to the bathroom, he lets me walk free for a few minutes, then he ties me up again.
Even when he unties me, I don't move. He's never hit me or hurt me, but instead, he stares at me like I'm a prize. Like I'm a piece of his collection that he refuses to damage. Like a pet? Yes, a caged pet.
The first few days, I tried to make a run for the door. I'd hit him and claw at him to get away, but he's twice my size and stronger than me. I'm weak now, he keeps me weak. Even if I wanted to hurt him, I can barely find the strength to move my arms. He helps me up and into the bathroom. We're underground, that's all I know. When I'm finished, he set me on the bed and I rub at the marks on my wrists.  When he moves to tie me up again, I begin to sob. My eyes are dry, but the cries are real. He ties up my left wrist, then my right. I don't struggle. I let him do what he can. Then he feeds me the soup, and moments later everything drifts away. All I want to do is sleep.  I thought I knew him once. I never thought he'd do this to me. I wonder if anyone out there cares that I'm here. I wonder if he's pretending to look for me. I wonder if Killian is looking for me. Throughout this all, he has been the one thing on my mind. If I ever get out of this. I am going to tell him how I feel. For real. No more, I could have or I should have. This time I will.