On a warm late afternoon, two eighteen-year-old boys relaxed on a comfortable cream-colored couch. Half-empty pizza boxes and drink bottles littered the square coffee table. In the background, soft rock music played from a boombox. "What are your plans now, Rory?" Daniel, the sandy blonde, inquired as he reached for another slice of pepperoni pizza. The raven-haired boy bit his lower lip and shrugged. "I haven't decided yet," he said, dropping his hazel eyes to his lap. "I'd like to see the ocean, but," Rory began to remark but stopped. Daniel lowered his bushy brow and rested his arms on his knees. "What's stopping you?" he inquired. Rory took a hesitant breath and responded, "I'm not sure how my father would react if I told him."
Before another phrase could be spoken, Rory's phone, which was in his jeans pocket, rang, making him jump. Rory's face turned pale, and his breath hitched as he looked at the phone. He had an unread message.
Where are you, Boy?
"It's my dad," he said, his voice cracking. "I must go," Rory stated, immediately rising to his feet and gathering his stuff. Daniel's brown eyes narrowed with concern.
"Contact me when you get home safely," he added, standing up and leading Rory to the front door. Rory turned slightly and said, "Thank you" before walking outside into the cool, fresh night air. Daniel paused in the doorway, watching his friend cross the street before going back inside his family's home.
Rory hadn't even finished entering the home when a big hand grabbed his arm and jerked him inside. He breathed sharply as his back slammed into a wall. His father's enraged expression was inches away from him. "Where were you?" he questioned. Rory forced oxygen into his lungs, causing hot, salty tears to run down his cheeks. "I was at Danny's," he blurted out. The next minute, Rory felt a strong slap. His right cheek had heated and become a faint pink from the impact. "You whore," his father responded. Rory cringed at his father's harsh tone. "We weren't doing anything wrong," he begged.
"Liar!" his father fumed, slapping him once more across the face.
Thirty minutes later, Rory stood in front of his floor mirror, surveying the damage to his face. Both of his cheeks were crimson, and his right eye had begun to bulge. "I don't know what to do, but I can't stay here either," he reasoned. He sat on his bed, resting his chin on his hands, thinking about what to do. He was in deep concentration when his phone rang. He unlocks it and discovers an unread message. It came from Daniel. Are you okay? I haven't heard from you. Rory breathed and gazed at his phone. What do I say? He took a slow, deep breath and began typing. I am fine. I got busy.
As the day faded into night, Rory's mind was made up. He'd pack up and leave the toxic situation he was in. "I'll contact Daniel once I'm somewhere safe," he told himself. Rory retrieved a gray duffle bag from the closet, placed it on his bed, and opened it. He emptied his wardrobe and dresser one by one, packing only what the bag could hold. Finally, he removed a roll of banknotes from the nightstand drawer and placed them in a pocket of the bag. Knowing his father's schedule, Rory cautiously unlocked his bedroom door, looked around, and disappeared with the bag draped over his shoulder.
When anyone realized Rory had vanished, it was after morning. A loud, powerful bang on the front door was heard. Daniel groaned in irritation and walked out of his bedroom. Seconds later, his parents' door opened, and his father appeared, looking furious. "I'll handle it," the older man said, moving down the hallway. Daniel did not move but listened. It was silent at first, but then he heard voices. One was his father. The other was a male voice he didn't recognize. Daniel then heard "Where is my son?" from an unknown individual. Then it hit him: this was Rory's father. Why was he here? And why did he inquire if Rory was at their house? Daniel felt an unease in his gut.
Daniel breathed sharply as the door slammed shut, then moved up to his father. "Who was that?" he inquired, already aware. "It was Mr. Henderson," he confirmed. "Rory is missing," his father said. A lump developed in Daniel's throat. Missing? However, he had only seen him the previous evening. Daniel then remembered Rory's horrified expression when his phone rang. "I think something happened, Dad," he muttered, turning and sprinting to his bedroom. Once inside his bedroom, Daniel took out his phone and dialed Rory's number from memory. His pulse quickened as the phone rang. It rang once, twice, and three times and received no response. He sank into the bed, wiped tears from his chocolate-colored eyes, and asked himself, "Rory, where have you gone?"
After calming down, Daniel jotted down all of the places he and Rory visited. The first stop was a cafe on Maple Street where they could study after school or just relax. Willow Park was the next stop, where they relaxed during the summer and on pleasant days. Daniel had to find his pal or lose his sanity. Daniel had a gut feeling that Rory's father had done something wrong, but he kept it to himself. He had no proof. He didn't eat or sleep much because his emotions were so intense. "Son, you need to take care of yourself," his father observed one day, noticing Daniel's dark rings under his eyes. "I'm worried, Dad," Daniel said. "What if something happened to him?"
Daniel's father recommended contacting the police, but Daniel refused. "I want to keep the police out of it," Daniel had stated.
"Are you sure?" his father inquired. "For now," Daniel replied, nodding. "I'm sorry, but I must do this on my own," he apologized. Daniel's father exhaled deeply but nodded in agreement. "Okay, I'll let you handle this, but if you need help, I'm here," he told him. Daniel exhaled a long-held breath and whispered, "Thank you."