text: “I’m coming!” Sheri sprints through the house while narrowly avoiding tripping over the unkempt floor with garments and beer bottles on the way to the door. She swings it open to see that a man who looked about 6 feet tall, dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes that looked more green, was standing there. “Can I help you?” “My name is Jared Smith. I’m a detective for the case of your missing son.” He holds out his hand for me to shake it. “Oh! I was told you wouldn’t be able to come till later to discuss the case.” I shake his hand and open the door more. “Come on in.” “Sorry about the mess, I would have cleaned up if I knew I was having company,” She says awkwardly. As he walks through the house, she kicks the clothes and bottles under the couch in an attempt to make the room look tidier. “It’s alright. Let’s sit somewhere to talk.” He walks through the house and sits down on a chair in the dining room. I take a seat in the chair across from him. “Alright so, I need to get some things figured out. First, when was the last time you saw your son?” “Yesterday, when we got home from the grocery store.” “Your son was with you, when you went to the grocery store?” “Yes.” He writes something down on a little notepad. “Will the cameras confirm that?” Did he think I was lying or something? I cross my arms and reply, “Well unless I’m a vampire, they should.” He writes something else down. “What are you writing?” I try to glance at the pad on his lap but he covers it with his hand. “Just information you tell me. This is all going to be a big help to us.” “Um alright then. Anything else you want to know?” “Yes. What was your son wearing?” What was he wearing? What does that have to do with anything? “He was wearing a blue superman shirt and tan khakis with Velcro shoes.” The image of him that horrendous day was permanently stuck in my head. He writes that down on his pad. “On the day he went missing, how long did it take you to call the police?” “Well, I’m not sure when exactly he went missing, but when I noticed, about 30ish minutes or so later is when I called.” “Around what time was this?” “9PM.” “How about relatives?” “What about them?” “Does he usually go see them?” “He’s never met them before.” “Alright last question then I’ll be out of your hair.” “Okay.” “On the last day you saw him, where did you see him?” “In his room playing with his legos.” He stands up from the chair. “I will call you later to further discuss everything. Thank you for your time.” I stand up and walk him over to the door. “I appreciate you helping me out.” I open the door and he walks onto the porch. “In my 28 years in this business, I’ve never failed to solve a case.” He waved me goodbye and got into his car and drove off. I walk back inside the house and walk through to his room. His legos were still laid out on the floor and his bed was still left untouched. I walk over to his bed and sit down. The bed still felt warm from when he was last on it. I pick up his teddy bear and hold it to my chest. He never went anywhere without this thing. It was stuck to him like glue 24/7. I place the teddy bear down on his pillow and stand up. “I love you,” I say. I blow a kiss toward his room and walk out. I walk into the kitchen and pop open a bottle of beer. I didn’t like the taste of it, I just liked the fact that it temporarily got rid of my pain and achiness. I gulp the beer and wipe my mouth. Most people would consider me to be an alcoholic. How does one even determine that? I take another gulp of the beer. I’ve never thought of myself as an alcoholic because I can handle my alcohol. I take another drink. “I should order some pizza.” I place the beer bottle down and walk over to the house phone. I dial Pizza Hut. “Hi, I would like to order a large cheese pizza, with banana peppers, black olives, and mushrooms on it.” “786 Laney ST.” “Alright and about how long will that take?” “Okay sounds good, thank you.” I hang up the phone and place it back on the table. Now it’s time to play the waiting game. I walk into the kitchen and continue drinking my beer. I wonder how someone even came up with beer? Like, were they like “We need a drink that makes people feel good, but also bad at the same time for drinking it.” And how did they convince the buyers in the beginning? Well, whatever they did, it worked so cheers to them. I finish drinking the rest of the bottle and toss it into the trash can. I walk into the living room and turn the TV on. The first thing that comes on is the news. “The little boy, last seen in his room, has been missing for 24 hours,” The news reporter said. I turn the volume up. How is this already on the news? “The little boy, last seen by his mother, looks like this.” The TV shows a picture of her son. How did they even get that photo? “Unfortunately, the mother has not been fully cooperative.” “Wait what? I’m not cooperative?” I lean towards the tv. “How have I not?” “The mother has been ignoring the police whenever they try to ask her questions about the disappearance of her own son.” My mouth drops open in shock. Damn. I mean I know I ain’t no Megan Fox or Celine Dion, but I’m not that bad. The TV shows an old mugshot of me from when I got pulled over for being 3x over the legal limit. “Oh come on!” I pick up an old bottle of beer sitting next to me and take a big gulp of it. “At Least show them a photo of me that doesn't make kids frightened and feel the need to check under the bed for me!” I take another drink. “The police are doing everything they can in order to find the missing boy.” “And I’m not?” “If you have any information, please dial the number on your screen or call 911.” “Or dial me.” I go to take another drink, but the bottle was empty, so I threw it on the floor. I get up from the couch and turn the TV off. “I don’t need to listen to this crap.” Stupid media always thinking they know someone when they don’t. “Tsk.” I walk into my bedroom and get undressed. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days now. I open up my drawers and start tossing shirts around. “Nope.” “Ew.” “Nope.” “Nein.” I pull out an old camouflage shirt. “Hmm this might work.” I put the shirt on and go look in the mirror. “Not bad.” I take my pants off and throw on some old basketball shorts that used to be my ex husband’s. Well, deceased ex husband’s. I walk back into the living room and turn on some Spongebob. My son loved this show, even though Spongebob’s exasperating laugh always gave me migraines. Yet, here I am, watching it. As I’m watching it, I hear a knock on the door. “Finally!” I grab my wallet from my purse and skip to the door. I pull it open and a smile creeps across my face. “Yay. And you said it was $6 right?” “Yes, $6.” He moves the bag to his other arm. I open my wallet and pull out six crumpled ones. “Here is the $6.” He takes the money and puts it in his back pocket. “Oh wait I forgot the tip!” I pull out a ten and hand it to him. “Here.” “Thanks.” He hands me the pizza box and leaves. I open the box and say, “Not a single piece of you is going to survive.” I take a big sniff. “Mmmmmm.” I walk back inside and place the box down on the island in the kitchen. I walk over to the cabinet and grab a paper plate. “Which piece should I eat first?” I look around at the pizza. “This one.” I pull up a piece and plop it down on the plate. I walk back into the living room and continue watching Spongebob. Out of all the characters in this show, I would have to say I relate to Squidward more. Especially the way he hates his neighbors. I grab a beer bottle on the floor and take a drink of it. I wasn’t sure how long the bottle had been here, but I didn’t mind. Beer is beer. Pretty quickly I get to the last piece in the box. “Awww man this is the last one,” I say grumpily. I place the piece down on the plate and walk back to the living room. “Planton, the secret formula is crabs.” As I eat the last piece, I notice a cat sitting on the outside of the window. It’s fur was a mixture of orange and black. “Hey kitty.” I wave at the cat, then it jumps down. “Well, I didn’t like you anyways.” I take the last bite of the pizza. “Welp guess my dinner is done.” I walk into the kitchen, grab the pizza box, and walk outside. “I really need to change the light bulb out here.” I walk around to the side and lift up the trash can lid. I throw the box inside. “Mommy.” I freeze. Did someone just call me Mommy? No, it’s not possible. “Mommy.” I could sense someone behind me. A ghost maybe? My imagination? Maybe I had one too many beers? I slowly look behind me and my jaw drops in utter shock. “H-how? H-how is this possible?” My legs started shaking in fear. This shouldn’t be possible. This is not possible. I looked up and down at the little boy standing in front of me. My son. He was alive. “Mommy.” He gives me a big smile that sends chills down my spine. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real. I killed you! You're supposed to be dead!” I looked in utter surprise at my son - who was somehow alive.