Chapter 3
The lobby fell silent all at once.
Every person in the room stopped and stared at the woman on her knees, her hair a mess, looking like a madwoman.
Floating above, I watched her, my heart wrenching in two.
I reached out to help her up, but my hands just slipped right through her.
Mom, please, stop hurting yourself.
Sorry, I embarrassed you again, Mom.
You should've been wearing that fancy coat today, going home for the Christmas looking your best.
But now, you were like a beggar in public, exposing all our family's pain for the whole world to see.
If I hadn't gotten your coat dirty, if I could've just held it in, would any of this have happened?
But I just couldn't.
I was too broken to hold my own body together.
Dad grabbed the mic. There was a forced calm in his voice, yet beneath it was a tremble he couldn't quite hide.
"Folks, if anyone's seen my daughter, please let me know. There's a big reward in it for you!
"Her name's Anna Lane, she's 25, high-level paraplegic..."
People in the crowd started gossiping, their voices low but sharp.
"Paralyzed? How could she just run off on her own?" someone scoffed.
"Yeah. I bet the parents thought her a burden and dumped her in this snowstorm," another person chimed in.
"Look how hysterical she's crying. Maybe she abused her kid until the girl couldn't take it anymore and killed herself," someone else muttered.
Dad heard it.
He'd always kept his head down and never raised his voice, but now he suddenly lunged at the guy with eyes blazing red, ready to throw down.
"Bullshit! She's my whole world! How could I ever abandon her?" Dad shouted, his voice shaking with rage.
"I've raised her for over twenty years and taken care of her for three years! Who the hell are you to say that about me?"
Dad, usually so mild-mannered, was ready to fight that guy to the death.
But Mom rushed over and wrapped her arms tight around Dad's waist, desperate to hold him back. "Stop! Finding our daughter is what matters! We have to find her, please!"
Dad's hands dropped limply to his sides, then he slapped himself hard and collapsed to his knees, bawling like a child.
They'd given everything, but in the end, people still called them the ones who dumped their kid.
I hovered above them, reaching out with my phantom hands to wipe their tears, only to slip right through their bodies.
Dad, Mom.
You would look after yourselves, right?
I wouldn't be here much longer.
The police would prove you didn't do anything wrong.
You would be sad for a while, maybe a year, maybe two.
But eventually, you would get through this.
Without me holding you back, your life would gradually lighten up.
You're not even fifty yet, so you could still have another child.
Someone healthy, who could run and jump, and who would be there on Christmas Eve to wish you a Merry Christmas.
Please don't look for me anymore.
Please.
Just let me die here, quietly.
At this time, the police showed up.
Gotta admit, they worked remarkably fast.
They quickly checked the surveillance footage in the lobby and confirmed that I never entered the core area of the rest stop after my parents left.
"If she didn't come into the lobby, then she must still be somewhere near the car!"
The seasoned officer pointed to a camera blind spot. "As there are no cameras, make sure to search the area around the parking lot!"
As soon as Dad heard that, he shot up like he'd been shocked.
"The blind spot! That's it, the blind spot!" Dad yelled, his voice raw with panic.
He tore off toward the parking lot, wild with desperation.
Everything vanished in a white haze between sky and land.
The tracks I'd made crawling through the snow had already been wiped away by the relentless storm.
With a high-power flashlight, Dad stumbled through the snow at the edge of the greenery, searching desperately.
I was just a short distance away from him.
If he'd just gone a bit further in, he would've stepped right on me.
But I was dead set on dying.
I deliberately tucked myself into a low spot, with dead branches and fresh snow piling over me.
From above, all he'd see was a smooth stretch of snow.
The flashlight beam brushed the edge of my jacket more than once.
Dad stopped less than ten feet away from where I was.
I could hear his heavy, rough breathing, like an old bellows wheezing in the cold.
And the sob strangled in his throat.