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Mrs. Greene frowned, adjusting her spectacles. \u201cThat\u2019s odd. I could have sworn I\u2019ve seen her coming back to the house during the day. Around nine or so. And\u2026 well, sometimes she\u2019s not alone. I\u2019ve seen her with other children.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart dropped like a stone into deep water. \u201cThat can\u2019t be right,\u201d I insisted, though my voice lacked conviction. \u201cYou must be mistaken. Maybe it\u2019s a neighbor\u2019s kid who looks like her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps,\u201d Mrs. Greene murmured, though her eyes remained unconvinced. \u201cJust thought you should know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I drove to work in a haze. The uneasiness in my chest was not a flutter; it was a heavy, cold weight. I tried to rationalize it. Mrs. Greene is getting older. Her eyesight is failing. But as the miles blurred beneath my tires, I couldn\u2019t ignore the subtle shifts I had been dismissing for weeks.<\/p>\n
Lily had been quieter. Her appetite, once robust, had dwindled to picking at her dinner. There were dark circles under her eyes that concealer couldn\u2019t quite hide. I had chalked it up to the academic rigor of middle school, the growth spurts, the hormones.<\/p>\n
But what if it was something else?<\/p>\n