Keeping the Lights On

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here.

I look around, but my eyes can’t penetrate the suffocating darkness. The air is thick with the scent of dust. My pulse beats in an erratic rhythm. Instinctively, my fingers find the light switch and press it. The room is suddenly flooded with harsh light from the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. I squint against the sudden brightness, blinking a few times.

How many times have I told Ethan to replace the chandelier he broke with his damn soccer ball? His room is not a football field!

Wait - Ethan. This is his room.

A shockwave surges through me, my heart skipping a beat. Memories spiral through my mind like a tornado, a chaotic blur of images and emotions. And then, finally, one thought crystallizes - Ethan is missing.

I tear through the room in a frenzy - I check every inch.

Blackness washes over me for a second, and then I see him - right there, in front of me. His hair still tousled from sleep, wearing a loose T-shirt and baggy sweatpants. He grabs his backpack with one hand, the other holds an apple, which he bites into with a loud crunch. He looks at me with those hazel eyes and asks, in that innocent voice he knows I can never resist, “Mel, will you drive me to school? Pleaaase?”

I roll my eyes dramatically, playing along. He knows exactly how to get his way. I can’t help myself—I reach out and ruffle his messy hair.

A sharp, piercing alarm yanks me out of the moment. My hands tremble as I reach for the phone. Ethan’s face stares back at me from the screen. His wide, boyish grin, his arm slung casually over my shoulder. My vision blurs, my eyes sting.

Why didn’t you take your phone, Ethan?

My breath comes in ragged gasps as I glance at the time. 6 a.m.

I know I don’t have much time. I can’t lose him. Not him.

I scan the room again, my gaze landing on the takeout box of chicken wings on his desk. The smell still lingers, rich and mouthwatering. It hasn’t been more than a few hours since he ate these.

I spin on my heel and bolt for the door snatching up his T-shirt on the way. The one with the logo of his favorite soccer team.

I take the stairs two at a time, my boots clattering against the worn wood, each step hammering in my head like a ticking clock. Every second slipping through my fingers.

Anger flares in my veins as my mother’s panicked voice echoes in my memory. The phone call. Her voice laced with barely restrained hysteria. The sound of her muffled sobs, the way she tried to hold herself together. Even over the phone, I could picture her face - twisted with worry.

And I lashed out.

Why didn’t you call me sooner? How the hell did he not come home?

I fling the front door open, and the icy wind slaps me across the face.

The city I know like the back of my hand suddenly feels like a labyrinth - one right path, too many wrong ones.

For a few precious seconds, I clutch Ethan’s T-shirt to my chest, inhaling his scent. My pulse slows, my breathing steadies.

“I’ll find you, little brother,” I whisper into the soft fabric.

Lifting my gaze, I spot a figure stepping out of a house a block ahead. I take off running, stumbling but never loosening my grip on the shirt. As I get closer, I recognize her - Susan.

"Susan!" My voice is raw. She turns, hesitant. I grab her shoulders.

"Ethan. Have you seen him?" The words tumble out. "He…his phone, he didn’t come home…"

She flinches, something flickering in her gaze. "Mel, sweetheart… again?"

I release her. My hands shake. I want to scream at her, to demand she believe me. But before I can…

His voice.

“Mel, help me. Mel, I can’t…”

The air shatters. I spin around and bolt toward the sound.

“I’m coming, kid. I’m coming!”

I think I’m screaming, but I hear nothing. Salt stings my lips, and I realize - tears are streaming down my face. Every emotion I can’t name, can’t bear, spills from me. If something has happened to him - if I don’t get there in time…

I swear, if I look down at my chest, I’ll see my heart bleeding.

I run through the city, stopping strangers, dialing numbers. His friends. Their parents. The hours blur. My clothes cling to my body, damp with sweat, despite the freezing air. The entire time, I feel an invisible grip around my throat, tightening with every breath. If I had to name the worst feeling in the world, it wouldn’t be panic. Or fear. Or grief. It would be helplessness. I picture it - drowning in ice-cold water. Kicking, but your legs refuse to move. Thrashing, but your arms won’t obey. The air in your lungs, slipping away. Your eyes, wide open - but all you see is darkness. You gather everything you have for one last scream. You want to fight, to claw your way to the surface. Somehow. Any way. But your body betrays you. Until, finally – you sink. And you disappear.

No! I refuse to disappear. I won’t let Ethan disappear!

I clench my fists and sprint toward the fast-food place on the east side of town.

I burst through the glass doors, half-stumbling. Pam’s kind face greets me. A fork clatters to the floor behind me. I don’t turn. I fight for breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “Ethan… have you seen Ethan?” My hands grip the sticky counter, knuckles white. Pam’s face tightens.

“Mel… Ethan isn’t here.”

There it is. The same look I’ve seen all day. Concern. Pity.

Rage rises, drowning out reason. I tighten my grip. “What do you mean you haven’t seen him?” Not a question. An accusation.

I bite out every word, staring her down. “Where is my brother, Pam?” She doesn’t flinch.

I feel the weight of every gaze in the diner. The security guard, moving closer. Pam gives him a small nod before looking back at me. “I haven’t seen Ethan. Not recently.” Her hand twitches toward mine but stops short. Another dead end. A tidal wave of hopelessness crashes over me. I blink at her. My fingers slip from the counter, leaving smudges behind.

“What time is it?” I ask suddenly.

Pam gestures to the clock on the wall. 7:35.

No.

The world tilts. I reach out, grasping for the display case beside me. A hand moves toward me, but I can’t focus. I sink to the floor. A pulsing pain echoes in my skull. Too late. The thought pounds through me like a war drum. The diner fades. Reality fractures. Darkness swallows me whole.

When I open my eyes, I stare at a house. Ethan’s T-shirt is still in my grip. I force my mind to stay in the present. A few more seconds, and it clicks- I’m in front of Mike’s house. Ethan’s best friend. But it’s not the way I remember it. I push to my feet and search the area. No signs of life. I break down the door. Search every inch. Nothing. A sharp exhale leaves me. Something in me screams that I’m missing something. And then - it hits me. The truth. It’s right here. Right in front of me. And then - like a heartbeat - it shatters.

“And it’s a GOOOOAL! The fans can’t believe it! The crowd is going wild! Just seconds before halftime…” The commentator’s voice explodes in my head. My thoughts lock into place, gears clicking in slow, steady rhythm. Tick. Tick.

A child’s scream pierces the air.

Raw. Desperate.

Ethan.

I run.

The sound pulls me toward the woods behind Mike’s house. Branches whip at my face. Roots snag my feet. I don’t stop. I will save him. His cries grow louder. Hope surges through me. Then- I trip. Hit the ground hard. A thin trickle of blood trails from my forehead. It doesn’t matter. I push myself up and I see it. A scrap of dark blue fabric. Dangling from a broken branch. My fingers brush the material. It’s so familiar. I look down at the T-shirt in my hand. I see the missing piece.

No.

The world shifts. And then I take in the view. My analytical mind takes over, shielding me from collapse. Blood. Tracks. Chaos. Everything points to a brutal struggle.

A boy’s body. Lifeless. I don’t know why, but I’m certain - it’s still warm.

I could give myself a few more seconds of denial. I could pretend it isn’t him.

I could. But there is no version of reality where I wouldn’t recognize his curls. Or the watch on his wrist - the one he got for scoring his first goal. Or his hazel eyes, the ones that meet mine every morning when I wake him up for school. But what truly ends it - what delivers the final, crushing blow - are his hands. Strong from sports, bearing the first signs of growing up. And yet, still soft. Still small. Still a child’s hands. Stretched toward me, as if - until the very last second - he believed I would come in time.

I didn’t.

The weight of what’s happened crushes me.

I dig my palms into the dirt, my body turning to stone.

No. No. No.

The wheel of my thoughts spins out of control, and a single truth drives itself into my heart like a blade.

The world doesn’t just spin - it collapses around me. I sink. And when I try to rise, I realize—I have nothing left to fight for. A sound rips from my throat - is it really mine? I was too late. Forgive me, Ethan…

A hand grips my shoulder. I whip around, wild, feral, eyes blazing. For a moment, something cracks through the horror. A familiar presence.

I blink.

“Mom?” I whisper.

The world turns to darkness once more.

***

Ana sat on the bench, her legs neatly crossed. The woman beside her had been silent for several minutes now.

At last, the woman couldn’t hold it in any longer. "She’s going to be okay, right?"

Ana turned to her, exhaustion weighing heavy in her eyes, and nodded. "Yes. This isn’t the first time. She’s already at the hospital—they’ll take care of her."

"So… this happens often?"

Ana met her gaze, sharp and unyielding. "Why are you so curious about my daughter’s life?"

"I’m sorry - I should have introduced myself." The woman hesitated, then spoke carefully. "My name is Isabella Riley. I’m working on an almanac about the heroic women of our time. I’d love to learn more about her. I’m a journalist." She reached into her bag and timidly offered a business card.

Ana didn’t take it. She simply shook her head. "What more is there to say?" She reached for her purse, preparing to leave.

"Wait." Isabella caught her hand.

Ana’s expression hardened with offense, and Isabella quickly loosened her grip. "Please."

She pulled out her phone and turned the screen toward Ana. "This is my son. Kai."

Ana’s breath hitched. There was no mistaking that face. Not even after all this time.

"He’s your son?"

Isabella nodded, blinking back tears. "You know who he is."

"Yes, child, I do." Ana’s voice softened. "And I’m so sorry."

Without warning, she reached forward and embraced Isabella.

For a long moment, they simply held each other, drowning in shared grief.

When Ana finally pulled away, she met Isabella’s eyes with quiet resolve. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to understand Melissa’s story through the eyes of the person who knows her best - her mother." Isabella’s voice wavered. "I owe her so much. Because of her courage, her determination, my son got justice. The families of all the others found solace. Melissa did something incredible. She rewrote the story. She turned The Ghost from a terrifying urban legend into a pathetic man. A piece of scum who doesn’t deserve attention - who doesn’t even deserve another breath, if you ask me."

Her voice trembled with rage. "I’m so sorry for what it cost her. I didn’t know… not until I saw it with my own eyes."

She reached out and took Ana’s hand, squeezing it in silent solidarity.

Ana accepted the gesture with a small, solemn nod.

Ana had told this story many times before - but never like this. Never to someone who truly understood. And now, she realized, it was difficult to continue.

"Melissa carried the weight of every life she couldn’t save, but Ethan’s is the one that finally broke her."

With every case, she got closer and closer to the truth, but something always slipped through her fingers. It began to play tricks on her mind. Every murder she failed to prevent stripped away a piece of her. She despised his nickname -The Ghost - but in a way, she was becoming one herself.

Isabella listened in silence, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Those last few weeks were hell for her. For us. She was convinced he was tracking her the way he did with his victims. She had officers patrolling the house around the clock. She barely slept, barely ate. She flinched at every noise. It was as if… as if she knew. That he was coming for her."

Ana exhaled shakily.

"And in the end, her fear became reality. Because he did come. But not for her - for Ethan."

She closed her eyes, as if willing away the image in her mind. Isabella never let go of her hand.

"How did he get to him?" Isabella asked, hesitant.

"I was running errands across town, and Melissa was away on a case, investigating his latest victim. She’d left me with strict instructions. But Ethan… he was just a kid. He didn’t understand the danger. He and his friend Mike snuck out of school. They had a treehouse near Mike’s parents’ place. They hid there to listen to the game on the radio." Ana’s voice grew distant, as if slipping into the past. "It must have seemed harmless. Their team scored right before halftime. They cheered, they jumped, they screamed. Mike lost his balance and fell from the tree."

She swallowed hard.

"That’s where his memory cuts off. Melissa believed Ethan ran for help. He had left his phone at home that morning, and in his panic, he probably didn’t think to check if Mike had his. We don’t know exactly what happened next."

Her voice turned to a whisper. "When I realized Ethan was missing, I called Melissa right away. Mike’s parents had found him and though Ethan came home. By the time they called me, it had already been hours. Melissa couldn’t sit still. Within an hour, she was here.”

Isabella hung on every word, barely breathing. She was living the story through Ana’s voice.

"It didn’t take her long to find him. And that was the end of her."

Ana’s expression hardened. "She took it as a personal failure. And the guilt was too much to bear."

She took a steadying breath before continuing. "She kept saying—this wasn’t planned, but it wasn’t random either. The Ghost had been watching Ethan for a long time, waiting for an opportunity. And when he saw one, he took it. No matter the risks. No matter how unprepared he was. That’s why the murder was different."

She met Isabella’s gaze, knowing she was speaking to someone who understood.

"Melissa spent two days in the woods after that. She was more animal than human, driven purely by instinct." Ana’s voice trembled. "Melissa was the best homicide detective on the force. A rising star. And she was certain - there was meaning in Ethan’s hands. That he had left her one last clue. One last goodbye.”

Ana’s breath hitched, and a quiet sob escaped her lips.

Isabella was silent.

"Ethan fought until the very end. He was always brave. A fighter. He wanted to be strong and smart like his sister someday. He managed to rip a button from his attacker’s jacket. And with what little strength he had left, he buried it in the dirt beside him."

Ana fell silent. Isabella swallowed hard, then asked the question she both feared and needed to know.

"How… how did she find it? How did she know where to dig?"

"He drew a crescent moon in the dirt." Ana’s voice was barely a whisper. "The forensics team couldn’t explain why there was more soil under one of his nails. They assumed he had clawed at the ground. But Melissa knew he would leave a clue only she would understand. And she did find it - their symbol. A crescent moon."

Isabella’s throat tightened.

"Even in the darkest nights, there is a sliver of light," Ana murmured. "Focus on it long enough, and it will break through the darkness."

She closed her eyes.

"She always told him that. Whenever he was sad. Whenever he lost hope. And they would look up at the moon and smile. Because there was no hardship they couldn’t overcome together."

Silence stretched between the two women.

Then, softly, Isabella asked, "Will she ever come back?"

Ana squeezed her hand and gave her a small, knowing smile.

"I believe that when Melissa is ready, she will find her way home. The mind is a powerful thing. She never gave up on those children. She never gave up on Ethan. She never gave up on justice. Who am I to give up on her?"

She exhaled. "I know that one day, she will be ready to come home. And until then—I'll keep the light on."