If You're Reading This Chapter 1

Journal Entry #1

Seven Stupid Silent Days

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never written things down before. Not like this. Maybe a couple old passwords or something, but never this. I thought it might help. Help me stay strong, help me find her, help me with something… anything. I’m struggling. My moms been gone for seven days — seven stupid, silent days. The one person I always turned to for everything just vanished, and I have no clue what to do about it.

It was just a regular night. Every Sunday, mom makes chicken n dumplings and we eat dinner on the couch watching Family Feud, and that’s exactly what we did that night. She even made me give her my soccer schedule so she could come watch my games, like she always does. It was a good night, full of laughter, full of warmth. Nothing out of the ordinary. No clues. No warning. If I’d known… I don't know. I would've asked her why, hugged her a little longer, paid more attention — something… anything to understand why my mom isn’t here with me anymore.

Everyone keeps asking how I’m doing… I lie. I tell them, “I’m hanging in there,” but I’m not. I keep expecting her to call, text, or even yell something from the other room, but I know it’s not going to happen. I can barely breathe. It feels like someone knocked the wind out of me and just left me here gasping for air.

People are already changing — my friends are going quiet, pulling away. My family just keeps repeating the same empty things.

“It’s okay.”

“She’ll be back soon.”

“Things like this happen.”

But what if she won’t? What if they don’t?

The cops came by two days ago. Asked questions, wrote a few things down, and then left. No updates, no leads, not even a damn phone call.

So I guess this is where I am. Writing things down in this stupid journal I found in my moms closet. Part of me hopes it’ll help me find her. The other part just hopes it keeps me from going completely numb. I need to stay strong. Something inside of me is telling me to pay attention, like something’s off. She didn’t just leave on her own — I know my mom. Something’s wrong.

I keep checking the front door. Waiting to see her walk up the steps, waiting to hear her key in the lock, waiting to see her face and hear her voice ask me what I want for dinner, like everything’s normal again.

But who says she’s ever going to walk back through that door?

Or any door at all…

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