Liora and Alaric rushed outside, their breath catching as Max barks tore through the air, relentless and urgent. The sound was unlike anything they had heard before—sharp, guttural, desperate. The dog paced anxiously by the open gate, ears pinned back and tail rigid, as though aware of the looming crisis.
"Max never barks like this," Alaric muttered under his breath, his jaw tight with worry.
But Liora's attention was already fixed elsewhere. The gate. It was ajar. Her chest tightened as she scanned the empty driveway, dread crawling up her spine. "Orla?" she called, her voice trembling, more fragile than she expected.
When no response came, her stomach twisted. She bolted toward the gate, her bare feet skimming the cold pavement. "Orla! Orla, where are you?"
Alaric's footsteps followed quickly behind, his voice louder, firmer, as he joined in the frantic search. "Orla! Orla!"
Their calls filled the quiet suburban street, echoing back like a cruel taunt. Each second that passed without a reply felt heavier, the silence pressing down on them like a vice.
"Check the yard!" Liora urged, her voice tight as panic surged. "She could be hiding somewhere."
"I'll go!" Alaric spun on his heel, darting toward the backyard, his gaze scanning every shadowed corner. "Orla, it's Daddy! Where are you, sweetheart?"
But there was no answer, only the sound of Max's barking fading as he circled restlessly near the gate.
Liora stepped beyond the gate, her breath hitching as the cool breeze kissed her flushed cheeks. The street stretched out before her, eerily still except for the faint hum of cars in the distance.
"Orla!" Her voice cracked, desperation turning it into a plea.
A woman walking a small dog paused nearby, her expression concerned. "Is something wrong?"
"My daughter," Liora choked out, fumbling with her phone as she pulled up a picture of Orla, taken just that morning. Her daughter's wide smile beamed from the screen, framed by her favorite pink dress and a white ribbon tied neatly in her hair.
"She's six years old," Liora explained hurriedly, thrusting the phone forward. "Have you seen her? She…she was here just a little while ago."
The woman frowned, shaking her head apologetically. "I haven't, I'm sorry. But I'll keep an eye out."
Liora nodded, her heart sinking further. "Thank you," she murmured before moving on, her feet carrying her instinctively toward the next person she saw.
By the time Alaric emerged from the backyard, his expression grim, Liora had already spoken to three more neighbors, each one shaking their head in the same helpless way.
"She's not there," Alaric said, his voice taut with worry. "She's not anywhere around the house."
"Then she's out here," Liora said firmly, though her voice wavered. "She has to be."
They didn't hesitate, splitting up to cover more ground. Liora headed toward the park a few streets over, clutching her phone like a lifeline, while Alaric took the opposite direction toward the main road.
"Orla!" Liora shouted as she jogged, her eyes darting toward every corner, every shadow that could possibly hide her daughter. "Orla, it's Mommy! Please answer me!"
She stopped anyone she encountered—a jogger, a teenager on a bicycle, an older couple walking hand in hand—showing them Orla's photo and asking the same frantic question: "Have you seen her?"
But the answers never changed. No one had seen a little girl in a pink dress with a white ribbon in her hair.
Meanwhile, Alaric's frustration mounted as he paced along the sidewalk, his calls growing more frantic with each step. When he finally dialed the police, his voice was clipped, filled with a barely-contained urgency.
"My six-year-old daughter is missing," he said, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth.
But the reply he received only fanned the flames of his anxiety. "I understand your concern, sir, but we can't officially classify her as missing until 24 hours have passed. In the meantime, continue searching and call us if anything changes."
Hanging up, Alaric clenched his fist, his jaw tightening as he called Liora. "We'll have to keep looking ourselves," he said grimly. "The police won't do anything yet."
"Then we'll find her," Liora replied, her voice laced with determination despite the tears threatening to spill. "We have to."
As the hours dragged on and the sun dipped below the horizon, the search grew more desperate. Liora's legs burned from running, her voice hoarse from shouting. Each person she approached offered only sympathetic eyes and empty words.
The street lights flickered to life as twilight deepened, casting long, eerie shadows across the quiet neighborhood. It was then that Liora realized she didn't recognize her surroundings anymore. She slowed to a stop, her chest heaving as she looked around, disoriented.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she quickly answered, relieved to hear Alaric's voice on the other end. "Where are you?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.
"I don't know," Liora admitted, her voice trembling. "I think I'm lost."
"Stay where you are," Alaric said firmly. "I'll find you. Just connect me to your location."
After ending the call, Liora glanced around again, trying to get her bearings. That's when she noticed it—a cluster of people gathered at the end of the street. The flashing lights of a police car illuminated their faces, their expressions somber.
A chill ran down Liora's spine as she took a hesitant step forward, her gaze fixed on the commotion ahead. She didn't know what drew her toward it, but an inexplicable dread coiled in her stomach with every step.
Then she saw it.
Lying on the pavement, near the edge of the crowd, was a white ribbon, smeared with dirt and slightly frayed. Liora's heart stopped as recognition hit her like a thunderbolt. It was Orla's.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She knelt down, her trembling fingers brushing against the fabric as though it might vanish. "No, no, no."
She clutched the ribbon to her chest, shaking her head violently as denial surged through her. "This isn't hers. It…it can't be hers."
Her legs felt like lead as she forced herself to move forward, the crowd parting reluctantly as she pushed her way through. Each step felt heavier than the last, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
At the center of the commotion, a small figure lay still on the ground, partially obscured by a police officer. Blood stained the child's clothing, the sight blurring as tears filled Liora's eyes.