The girl on the TV.

Across the room, Sunshine stood proudly. Her hair was dark brown, falling just below her shoulders in messy waves. She wore a flowy dress with loud, obnoxious patterns that looked hand sewn together. It was the type of dress you’d see on the back clearance rack in a thrift store that no one wanted. As ugly as the dress was, it complimented the woman greatly. There was folk music playing in the distant room and Sunshine was lulling the melody while she swayed back and forth in front of the small kitchen sink. The dishes clanked in the ceramic bowl; it was the only noise that distracted her from the music until a child’s laughter came bellowing into the kitchen.

“Mummy!” said the small child, no older than five. “I’m hungry. Can I have a snack and watch television?” She pointed at the small portable television you’d see in a kid’s room back in the 80s. It was perched on top of a folding table that was decorated with a floral vinyl.

Sunshine wiped the suds off her hands and turned to look at her daughter. “Yes, Journey,” she said lovingly and picked an apple out of the fruit bowl on the sink. “How’s this?”

Journey grinned happily at her mother and bit into the red globe of delicacy. “Apples are my favorite,” said the child and soon she was spinning in a circle in the kitchen. “I wish we could live in a field of apple trees.” It took time, but the child found the rhythm of the folk music and danced in tune with it. Her raven hair fell down her entire back, stopping just above her hips. It was long and beautiful. She stared up at her mother with dark eyes and a pouty scowl. She had lost the roundness of her baby face long ago and now held a hard expression, but she was so loving with her mom and her dark eyes showed this warmth. She stomped over to the small TV and turned the worn knob. The static illuminated on the screen, powering on with a hum.

It took time for the screen to load. When it did, it was the news. Journey looked at the clock on the wall. She knew when the two hands were standing straight up together, it meant it was noon. “Oh, mummy,” she moaned sadly, “The news is on!”

Sunshine was still washing dishes and didn’t acknowledge her daughter. The reporter covering a car accident vanished and a news anchor sitting behind a desk with a big, puffy face appeared. “On today’s segment of Bring Our Kids Home, we bring you the kidnapping story from Topeka, Kansas. Celeste Bahler disappeared on October 16, 2000 at the age of two. She would be five years old now. The sketch on the screen is aged to give a representation of what she would look like now. If you have any information that could lead to her rescue, please call the number at the bottom of the screen.”

“She looks like me!” Journey exclaimed happily, not realizing the severity of the situation. She just assumed the two looked alike. “Look mummy!”

Journey screamed out in fear, hearing the sound of glass shattering behind her. She dropped her half eaten apple and looked as her mother came running towards her, a stack of plates shattered in hundreds of pieces across the floor.

“No, no!” Sunshine panicked, turning the TV off. “Go, baby. Go get your stuffed lion. We’re going to see our friend.” Crying, Journey ran out of the room, still scared from the noise of the crash. Sunshine grabbed the telephone that was anchored into the wall, she turned the dialer until a number was submitted. A few moments later, the sound of another woman could be heard. “Valley, It’s Sunshine. I need your help. I need to bring Journey somewhere safe.”