Chapter 4

• Sienna sat on her bed.
• wasn’t lying down nor resting. Just sitting there. Her back hurt. Her hands were in her lap. Her fingers were still.
• She wasn’t doing or feeling anything either. Her head was full, but it was also empty. She didn’t know what time it was. She didn’t care.
• It made her feel trapped.
• Her bedroom didn’t feel safe tonight. It didn’t feel like hers. It felt like she was just sitting inside a box, waiting. For what, she didn’t know.
• She looked at the lamp on her nightstand. It was off. She didn’t want light. She didn’t want to see her own face or reflection or anything that wasn’t natural at that point.
• Her lips were dry. She hadn’t had water in hours. She didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to move.
• She thought about her dad again. She hated that. It always came without warning. She didn’t want to think about him. It hurt too much. But the memories definitely came rushing in.
• His voice. His laugh. The way he used to open the front door with a big “I’m home,” like it was something out of a movie. His hugs. His jokes. The smell of his expensive cologne.
• Gone. Just gone.
• She blinked. Her throat was sore again. She didn’t want to cry, but it felt like maybe she would. Or maybe she already had too much, and now her body didn’t even know how to do it anymore.
• Her hand moved on its own. She didn’t notice the phone in her hand until it lit up. A beep. One message.
• Meet me at the warehouse. Come alone.
• That was all.
• No name. No explanation. No clue who had sent it.
• She felt completely uneasy; she didn’t even know what to feel. Her fingers held the phone tighter.
• She read the message again. Warehouse. Alone.
• She didn’t know who. She didn’t know why. But something deep in her gut twisted. It wasn’t fear, at least not yet. But it was something cold.
• She stood up slowly. Her legs were still stiff. She had to hold the side of the bed to steady herself.
• She grabbed a hoodie from the chair. Pulled it over her head. No makeup. No brushing her hair. No checking anything. She didn’t care how she looked.
• She walked down the hallway. Quietly. The house was quiet. Her mom’s door was closed. She didn’t want to see her. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t have answers.
• She opened the front door slowly. Quiet. The click was loud in the silence.
• Outside was cool. It wasn't freezing, but sharp. She pulled the hoodie tighter and shoved her hands in the pockets. The streets were dark and empty. A couple of porch lights are on, but no one is around. No cars. No sounds.
• She walked.
• Not too fast or slow. Just be steady. Her feet moved like they knew where to go. The warehouse. There was only one that came to mind.
• It was old. Near the shipping yard. She remembered it from when she was a kid. Her dad used to drive past it when they went for night drives. He said it was one of the oldest buildings in the area. She never went inside.
• Tonight, she would.
• The walk felt longer than usual. Every step sounded loud. Her shoes hit the sidewalk with a soft sound. Her heart was racing steadily, but fast. Her hands were still in her pockets. Her phone was still in one hand.
• She didn’t check it again.
• She reached the warehouse. It looked the same. Big. Dark. Some parts rusted. A shaking bulb above a side door was the only light.
• She stopped in front of it.
• She didn’t move for a while. Just stood there, looking at the door. Breathing. Trying to decide if she was making a mistake. She didn’t know.
• Her fingers curled in her pocket. She moved toward the door. Pulled it open.
• It creaked.
• Inside was cold. Dusty. The air smelled like old metal and dirt. The space was big and mostly empty. Some crates were stacked near the back wall. A few old tools. One light above her head moved slightly, making the shadows move.
• She stepped in.
• Her shoes echoed. Tap. Tap. Tap.
• She looked around.
• “Hello?” she said.
• Her voice didn’t bounce back. It just disappeared into thin air.
• Nothing moved.
• She walked a little further in. Her eyes analyzing the room. She could see more now. Pipes. An old forklift. Broken wooden pallets but no people.
• Then,she heard it.
• Footsteps.
• Behind her.
• She turned fast.
• A man stepped out from the shadows.
• Tall. Wearing all black. A hood over his head. He didn’t speak.
• Sienna stood still. Her hands were tight in her pockets.
• “Who are you?” she asked. Her voice was sharp. Not shaking.
• The man walked forward a little. Just enough that she could see his face better. He was young. Maybe thirty. Chiseled jaw. Dark eyes. He looked at her like he already knew her.
• “You came,” he said.
• She didn’t answer.
• He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. Held it out to her.
• She didn’t move.
• “What is that?”
• He didn’t explain.
• “Take it,” he said.
• She took a step forward. Reached for the envelope. Took it with slow hands.
• She opened it. Inside was a folded note.
• She pulled it out.
• The truth about your father is closer than you think. You just need to look.
• That was all.
• She looked up fast. “What does this mean?”
• But the man was already backing up. Turning.
• “Wait!” she called out.
• But he was gone.
• She ran a few steps toward where he went. Nothing.
• He had disappeared.
• She was alone again.
• She looked down at the paper. Her hands were shaking now.
• The truth about your father.
• She sat down on one of the old crates.
• Her head was spinning. What truth? She thought she knew everything. He died. That was the truth. He was gone.
• But now?
• She stared at the note. Her fingers clenched around it.
• Why now? Why this way? Who sent it?
• She sat there a long time. The warehouse was still cold. Still empty. But now her mind was awake. Racing.
• Something had started. She didn’t know what.
• But she wasn’t going back to sleep tonight.