Chapter 3
His voice came out gentler than before, almost like a soft breeze.
"Yeah," Quentin spoke softly.
"We can count all the way up to ten thousand.
"There are lots of us, so we can count super fast," he said.
"If you come with us, we can count together while we wait for your brother," he promised.
"Does that sound good?" he asked.
But I hesitated.
Quentin actually made it sound pretty convincing.
But leaving here...
Just then, Quentin's eyes drifted to the collar of my coat.
My coat was so old, it had been washed so many times it was almost white.
There was a spot on the collar where the stitching looked a bit off.
My mom had sewn it for me.
She said that way, I wouldn't lose it.
Quentin reached out and gently took hold of the corner of my collar.
He moved slowly, as if he were handling a priceless piece of porcelain.
He carefully turned the collar over to reveal the inside.
There, a tiny, almost invisible strip of fabric was sewn in.
On it, characters were stitched with thread.
It was my name.
No.
That wasn't my name.
Quentin looked at the three characters and read them out, one by one.
"Anna.
"Thorn."
He looked up at me.
Quentin asked, "Is your name Anna Thorn?"
My mind went blank.
Anna Thorn?
That name felt so strange.
It felt like I was listening to someone else's story.
I stared at him, completely bewildered.
"My name is Luna," I said.
"My name is Luna," I repeated.
"I'm not Anna Thorn. That's not me," I said again.
Quentin looked at the bewilderment on my face. It really didn't seem like I was lying.
He furrowed his brow, holding that tiny strip of fabric, just staring at it for a long while.
That name, Anna Thorn, was like a tiny pebble.
It dropped into the still waters of my heart.
It sent out a little ripple.
But the ripple faded almost instantly.
I still couldn't remember a thing.
Eventually, I ended up going with them.
Quentin promised we'd reach ten thousand super fast.
And the lady cop shoved a whole bar of chocolate into my hand.
The moment I walked out of the subway station, I got scared.
It was dark outside.
The real kind of night.
Not like inside the station, where the lights made everything look sickly white.
The sky was a black curtain, with no stars and no moon at all.
Only the city's giant neon signs flickered with their cold light.
The cold wind cut across my face, sharp as a blade.
I shivered.
I never realized it was this cold out here.
I got into a car.
It was warm inside.
The policewoman sat beside me and fastened my seatbelt.
I gripped the half-melted chocolate bar tightly in my hand.
The car pulled away.
The world outside the window rushed past in a blur.
Tall buildings.
Streets.
Countless unfamiliar faces.
I felt kind of dizzy.
For twelve days, this was the first time I'd seen the world outside the subway station.
Strange.
Distant.
It all felt like it had nothing to do with me.
My whole world was just that little corner.
That cold chair.
And that task I could never finish.
We pulled up somewhere.
It was brighter than the subway station, almost dazzling.
And a lot quieter, too.
Everyone was in uniform, rushing back and forth.
It was the police station.
Quentin guided me into a small room.
It was small, but cozy and warm.
Inside, there was a sofa and a table.
The policewoman poured me a cup of hot milk.
I cupped it in my hands, soaking in the warmth.
I took tiny sips.
It was the first warm thing I'd tasted in four days.
Quentin and another cop were talking outside.
They kept their voices low.
"We checked. There are about a dozen missing kids named Anna Thorn nationwide," one of them said.
"Three are the right age," the other added.
"The photos are coming in now.
"We also pulled the subway station's surveillance footage," one of them said.
"The guy who brought her in twelve days ago showed up on camera," the other added.
"But he was wearing a hat and a mask. His face is completely hidden."
"He's a pro at this. Knows exactly how to dodge the cameras."
Their conversation floated in, broken and scattered.
I didn't really understand what they were saying.
The only thing I caught was "brother."
I stood up and walked over to the door.
"Is there any news about my brother?" I asked softly.
Quentin turned around, saw me, and broke off the conversation right away.
He walked over and gently led me back to the sofa.
"It won't be long now. We're still searching," Quentin said, trying to reassure me.
"You must be tired. Why don't you rest here for a while?" he said softly.
The policewoman brought over a blanket and draped it over me.
It was soft and cozy.
I really was exhausted.
I hadn't slept well in twelve days.
In the warmth and quiet, sleepiness washed over me like a wave.
I hugged the cup of hot milk, feeling drowsy as sleep crept up on me.
Just before I drifted off, I caught a glimpse of the policewoman carefully checking my clothes.
She was focused on my old coat.
Her movements were meticulous, making sure to search every pocket.
One by one, she turned them all inside out.
They were empty.
Nothing at all.
Then, her fingers brushed against something hidden.
It was tucked inside the cuff of my pants.
There was a heavy seam there, thicker than usual.
She pressed it between her fingers, her brows furrowing in confusion.
She found a small pair of scissors in the drawer.
Carefully, she snipped open the thick hem of my pants.
Inside, there was something tucked away in there.