The Corner of Onyx and Lavender.

The air was cold that morning. I could feel the rain slowly trickle down as it leapt from the comfort of the clouds to the uncertainty of the concrete below my feet. I was in a good mood on my walk to work that morning. My heart felt content and relaxed. There was no worrying about the future or rushing past the boutique without taking a look. I happened to be wearing my favorite shoes that morning. The bright yellow open-toed pumps that I love so very much. I don’t care what my mother says, best thirty bucks ever spent. I reach the corner of Onyx Lane and Lavender Street. The destination of my office building. As I came closer, a faint silver flash creeped into my peripheral vision. I instinctively turned towards the sight, stopping in my tracks. It was quite peculiar. I walked towards it and as it entered my line of sight I was able to see that it was a disposable camera. The tension and confusion left the depths of my soul and the shivering in my bones stopped. I continue towards the camera. I stare at it for a few moments before bending down to pick it up. I run my fingers across the front, feeling out every crevice and scratch. I look closer and dust off the lense and rhythmically feel the cool texture. I then open my purse and carefully place the camera inside. A smile grows across my face. I am excited for this new adventure that has stumbled upon my path. 

“Sedona?” A familiar voice calls. I turn around and see my co-worker, Amber.

“Amber! Hello!” I call out in a jovial tone. My heart leaps with joy when I see her. She makes my work experience so much better. Her cubicle is stationed right to mine which is how our friendship originally blossomed.

“You’re here quite early this morning, aren’t you.” She notices.

“Yes!” I reply, “Thought I’d get a nice head start this morning!” I explain.

“That’s quite admirable, I had to take larger measures of motivation to even sit up this morning.” She says as a little laugh follows behind her sentence. We then decide to continue our conversation as we walk into the office. I wouldn’t want my precautions to be useless at this point.

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“A watched pot never boils.” I was definately relating to the familiar saying. It was almost four o’clock, when my shift ended. However, everytime I would stare at the clock it never seemed to move. As if the hands were just as tired as I was and decided they had enough. That would be a very bold move for them. Something so essential quitting on the world, driving the rest of us into chaos. Not that time itself would stop, just the hands we’ve become so accustomed to. Then there it was, that long anticipated beep. Meaning a new hour had struck! This hour happens to be four o’clock. I grab my coat and joyfully slip each arm in. That full and content feeling from this morning had returned, being welcomed with open arms. I walk out waving to Amber through the opening in her cubicle. She would usually stay later than her intended shift. Not for a bonus or anything, just to finish some try hard project she’s been working on. I admire that about her. I on the other hand run out of that place and never look back. Unless of course I need the hours. 

I push open the door to the front of the building and silently celebrate to myself seeing as I had not accidentally tried to pull it open. That’s usually a daily thing for me. If some smart guy is going to put handles on the inside of a door, it better need to be pulled. But half the time architecture doesn’t need to make sense. So I am usually left to suffer with this problem. As I am strolling down the street listening to the clack of my shoes I remember, the camera! I stop and quickly open my purse and pull out the tiny silver object. My grin widens as I decide I’ll immediately head to the drug store to get it developed. I must have looked a bit crazy. A Native American woman in her late twenties, skipping down the street with bright yellow heels, and a camera in hand. However, I didn’t really care. I was having fun and wasn’t going to let anyone take that feeling away from me.

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I think I'm the only person who enjoys the little bell that goes off when I enter the drug store. It just reminds me of every time I’ve bought something good. I walk my way over to the photograph section of the store and wait for an attendant to assist me. A younger woman with short blonde hair comes to the counter and greets me.

“Hello! What can I help you with today?” The casual saying I hear from almost every employee that has ever existed. However, this time her accent made it more unique. Less monotone and bored. As if she didn’t hate her job with a burning passion. 

“I was wondering if I could get the film from this camera developed?” I ask.

“Of course! Just give me one moment please.” She says as she heads into the back. I was much too impatient. I was slightly hopping in place as the anticipation grew in my stomach. I must have looked like a child, but who cares at this point. I just needed to know what was on that camera.

“Sorry about the wait!” Says the woman as she hands me the envelope.

“It’s no problem!” I responded quickly, almost snatching the envelope from her with a grin. It felt quite light. I guess this person wasn’t too into their photography. I mean, they did leave their camera by a random office building in an alleyway. That just screams careless. 

I exit the store and excitedly open the envelope. I pull out five pictures and slowly flip through them. Then again, and for a third time. They were of a little girl. She looked about seven. I didn’t think too much of it, but the salty waves washing against my stomach walls told me to take a second look. This little girl was not smiling, rather she looked deeply filled with sorrow and worry. As if it was the only emotion she had ever known. The room around her was also extremely dark. I didn’t know what to think at this point. So I put the pictures back in the envelope and placed it in my purse.

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I’ve now disgusted myself from the sight of my ceiling fan. It’s been an hour since I saw the pictures and I’ve been lying on my bed, watching my fan. When suddenly my dazed silence was cut short by my mother calling my phone.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hi Love! Your brother is at your dad’s this weekend and I was wondering if you wanted to go to the mall?” She asks as I can almost hear her smile through the phone.

“Is that even a question?” I respond. I’m considering telling her about the pictures, however that doesn’t seem like an over-the-phone type thing. 

“I’ll be there in twenty!” She announces as I hear the dial tone click. 

Many people tell me they can see my mother in me. She’s always been a very likeable woman, as have I. I’m just not one hundred percent sure I want to burden her with this discovery.

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My mother was always a slow shopper. It doesn’t matter what store, what occasion or crisis, my mother will not be rushed. So, I decided to wait across the store by the bathrooms. While waiting I noticed the black and white posters of missing children that plaster the walls. It was a tragic sight and left a hollow hole in my stomach. After a few moments one specifically caught my eye. Scarlett Hayes, her name was circled in red and under her name it read that she’d been missing for almost twenty years. She also bared a striking resemblance to the photos I got developed this morning. I pulled the envelope out of my purse and held the photos up to the poster. It was her. The girl in the pictures was Scarlett Hayes.

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The thunder was what woke me up that night. At least I’d like to say that. It just sounds better than, “I keep thinking about the presumed dead little girl I found pictures of, and how she may very well still be alive and in a dangerous situation.”  I looked at the glowing red numbers on my clock. Four thirty-two AM. I didn’t need to be at work for another four hours. But who was I to force my brain to think about something else? 

I throw the comforter off my legs and head to my kitchen. I go to my cabinet and shuffle around boxes before I find what I need. Sleepy Time tea, it has yet to fail me. I decide to throw two bags into a mug of heated water and let it dissolve. That girl would be about my age now. Scarlett Hayes, I mean. She was seven when she was abducted, and it’s been twenty years. That is, if she’s still alive. Jesus, how many more unsettling questions will rattle my mind before this tea is done.

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I was much less happy with my shoe choice that morning. I had to wear my red flats after the rain soaked my yellow ones. The shoes were just one of the many things that morning that left me feeling hopeless. Scarlett Hayes was still on my mind. I felt almost accountable for her abduction. I’m lucky Fridays are my short shifts. I doubt I’ll get any work done today. Especially not with this on my mind. It’s left my brain frazzled, along with the rest of my body. 

I give the door handle a swift pull as I enter. The AC must have been on for a while that morning. A cold breeze hit me as soon as I stepped in leaving a trace of goosebumps throughout my body. I flash a smile at the secretary as I ascend up the stairs. I continue down the long hallway and towards my cubicle. I wave Amber a hello as I pass by her. I settle into my office chair and begin working while my mind isn’t too distracted, hoping I can at least accomplish something today.

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I decided to eat lunch with Amber in her cubicle that day. After all it was a better distraction from my work than a missing persons case. I had already used the majority of my working hours to do research on her. All I figured out was that she was taken from a park and was presumed dead after ten months.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Amber notices.

“Huh? Oh, yeah I didn’t get much sleep last night from the rain.” I explain.

“I see.” Amber responds with a smirk, clearly not believing my excuse.

Amber’s office was always quite nice. She decorated it with her own items, making it more personal. Mine was filled with sticky notes and shredded paper. I then noticed one of the pictures on her wall, it was in an oak frame painted white.

“Was that you?” I ask gesturing at the photo.

“Oh, yes. I was a real cutie if I do say so myself.” She responds with a little chuckle.

I laugh as I continue looking at the photo. Indeed, she was a beautiful baby. A happy one at that. I spot another one on the file cabinet next to me and pick it up. Getting a closer look, seeing as I was sitting all the way across the room from the other one. I nearly dropped it. My chest slowly ripped itself open as my heart toppled out. Still beating, rolled off of my lap and onto the floor. The paralyzation in my legs struck along with the agonizing fear in my abdomen. Amber was the girl in the photos, the girl who’d been presumed dead for the past twenty years, the girl who’s been keeping me up at night. Amber was Scarlett Hayes.

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Why wouldn’t she tell me? Did she know? Oh my god, what if she was still with him. I had to go to the police, right? All these thoughts circled my mind as I ran down the street, now thankful I wore flats that day. I’ll go to my apartment and call my mother. She’ll know what to do, she’s always been quite wise. My breaths quickened as I neared my complex. I couldn’t tell if it was from the excessive running or the panic. 

I swing through my doorway and immediately lock it. I don’t know why I was scared, I can only assume from the natural fight or flight response. I place my purse on the table and rummage through for my phone. I see a glimpse of red and grab at it. I see I have a missed call from Amber and a voicemail.

“Hey! You seemed really bothered when you ran out of the office today. I was just checking up on you. Call me when you can!”

Oh god, she doesn’t even know her real name. I leaned against the wall and slowly slid down. Holding my head between my legs. I thought I was going to pass out. I could taste the acid in my throat and my stomach was in knots. I could feel the sting in my eyes as the first tear rolled down. I cut the sorrow short as there was a knock at the door. I wiped my eyes with the cuff of my blazer as I stood up. I turned the brass lock and opened the door. No one was there. I could see to the end of the hallway, no one. I then look down at my feet and see a box. I pick it up and bring it in the room.

I grabbed the box cutter from the drawer and broke the seals of the packaging. I slowly opened the box to reveal a second camera. The world stopped. There was no time, no noise, no air. My lungs tightened and I couldn't breathe. The slightest movement I could make was to blink my eyes, only so they wouldn’t dry out. I break the curse momentarily as I move my hand to place the camera to the side.

I then saw a note. My hands trembled as I slowly picked it up. I knew nothing other than fear at this very moment. I was too blindsided to notice that I needed to shut the door, or close the blade. The only thing I could see was the note.

“She’s not who you think she is.”

That was it. Seven words, twenty three letters, and nothing else. I looked once again back in the box, nothing. I flipped the letter to the other side. There was a photograph. There was a photograph of me. Every bone in my body broke. Shattered into millions of pieces and ground into dust. My body betrayed me at that moment, left me stranded in my head. It was a photograph. It was a photograph of me putting the camera in my purse. Someone wanted me to find it. There was no coincidence or fate. My mind became too loud with the questions spiraling through my head. But one rang louder than the others.

Who was lying to me?