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Section 1
### Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Waverly Fields has been through a lot in her 18 years of life. Her sister Sadie Fields was kidnapped, and murdered. Four years later, and the same person who stole Sadie is coming for Waverly. Near the Four year anniversary of her sister's kidnap and murder, Waverly Fields finds herself finally feeling normal, until she gets a new job as a babysitter. Soon things go south when Waverly finds herself in danger, fearing the same person who had taken her sister; someone who she thought she had known very well. Waverly has to deal with knowing that someone she thought she could trust was the one behind it all. And just when Waverly thinks she's ahead of the game, the lies pull her back down.
Complete Chapters 17 Rating 4.5 ( 23 reviews ) Age Rating 16+ {"language":"en","storyId":141622,"genres":[{"name":"Mystery","path":"/genres/mystery"},{"name":"Thriller","path":"/genres/thriller"}],"authorName":"savannaprater","authorPath":"/savannaprater","status":"complete","lastUpdatedAt":1499876992,"chaptersCount":17,"rating":4.5,"reviewsCount":23,"ageRating":"16+"} Prologue October 7, 2017
I need someone to see this, even if it means I don’t live to tell the story myself. My name is Waverly Fields, and I am 18 years old. My parents are John and Marie Fields. I live at 5534 Golden St., Doylestown, PA, 18901, and I have been kidnapped. Well actually, I’m probably not even missing yet. I was taken a few hours ago, my parents won’t be up for hours; they don’t even know what I’ve been doing that led me to where I am now, but that’s explained in the journals. If you find my body, call my parents, and give them this journal, I’m scribbling this down as fast and clearly as I can. It’s dark, and I hear them coming back.
I’m writing this to… to leave something behind. I don’t know where I am, or what will happen. I’ve always felt when bad things were coming, my stomach lurches, and I know that means that something’s not right. I have this feeling now, it’s bigger and heavier than ever before, and I fear it means the worst. If I don’t come out of this, I want everyone to know the truth. Mom, Dad, I love you, and I’m sorry that you’ve now lost two daughters. I’ve been looking for Sadie, or at least some answers, and now here I am. I couldn’t tell you… I couldn’t risk getting your hopes up for it to be nothing. But it turns out it was something. I’ve been keeping a journal for a while, but they’re not important until September 29th, start there. I know who took Sadie, but it’s deeper than just that. At the risk of not being able to tell you myself, there’s proof, it’s hidden in the journals, you’ll have to figure it out. I came across it right before I was taken, but they couldn’t find it, so I had to figure out a way to hide it in plain sight. Don’t forget about me, and don’t let them get away without getting exactly what they deserve.
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### Chapter 2: Chapter 2
The brisk wind of fall was clear, and cold, as I ran down the paved sidewalk earlier today, cutting through the windbreaker that was proving not to be worth the 60 dollars I spent on it. Fall had always been my favorite season; my favorite time of the year besides the beautiful weather. My birthday is on Halloween, so was my sister’s, Sadie. No, we’re actually not twins, she’s three years older than me. But how weird is it that we were both born on the same day, and that day just happens to be Halloween. It was always something we felt made us special. Not that we were superstitious, but being born on Halloween made us different; we knew it, even if no one else did.
I run as much as I can, it clears my head. The music pulsed through my ears, pushing me through the runner’s block, to the high. A runner’s high is actually probably the healthiest high anyone could get. Once a runner pushes past the hardest part of the run, making it through the exhaustion, a burst of adrenaline courses through the body, easing the heaviness that made it hard to breathe, making everything look vibrant. I couldn’t afford to do cocaine or smoke weed, I didn’t really want to anymore anyway, but I could always run.
My high had begun to dissipate, as I turned the streets of my town towards my house. Doylestown was a little town in the middle of Pennsylvania. It was home, everyone knew everyone, and it was safe, for the most part. It’s one of those towns that was ten years behind the rest of the world. The cell phone reception is shit, we’re lucky if half of our TV channels work, and newspapers spread gossip faster than any text could. It was nice, honestly. I feel like I appreciate life so much more without living it through my phone.
Today was nothing special to anyone but Doylestown. The corner street market provided the reason. My sister’s face was plastered to every part of the little shack that was deemed a store, a headline reading “ 4 Years Later… ” All I can think when I see that type of thing is, could the writer not think of anything better? Something less depressing, maybe more creative?
Sadie disappeared four years ago today. She would be about to turn 21, wherever she is. And I know what you’re thinking, but no she isn’t the typical teenage runaway, she would never do that. But then again, there was never any trace of a trail. Her room was tidy, nothing out of place. All of her clothes and shoes were in her closet, except the outfit she had been wearing. There was no note, no ideas, no clues, nothing.
At the time, it seemed like my family would never get past it. We had been a close family, a typical Brady Bunch of four. Sadie’s absence never felt real, like if I had just walked upstairs she would be reading, or showering, or sleeping. It never seemed real until I forced myself to realize that she wasn’t upstairs anymore. Of course for a little while we had hope. The detective had shoved statistics down our throats like they were lifelines to sanity; like if we believed hard enough that she would come home, she really would. “90% of teenage disappearances are runaways, and return within 24 hours.” This obviously turned out to be untrue in Sadie’s case, we weren’t that lucky. We all lost our minds with questions like where was she, what happened, was she stolen or did she run away, was she still alive or has she been dead for years, will we ever know the truth? My mom and dad did their best to act like everything was normal, but acting like everything was okay tasted sour, like we were ignoring her absence.
The investigation had been ongoing for two years, with nothing to show for it. There had been a tip line and a reward for information, but nothing had ever turned up. There were people who had promised us that they had seen her, or talked to her. We always let it get our hopes up until we realized they were in it for the money. Hell, we still received messages and letters today, claiming to have seen or even be Sadie. I think that’s when I lost hope. When people knew that no real information was available, so they made some up to make sure the reward didn’t go to waste.
One day in the summer, only months after she went missing, we were called down to the police station, a jogger had found something of Sadie’s in the local park. It had been her purse. When we got to the station the entire staff stood in a circle, waiting. Like I said, we all knew each other in Doylestown, and no matter how professional the investigation should’ve been, it all boiled down to us all knowing each other. Everyone wanted Sadie to be safe. I held the purse, and I cried. It smelled like her. It reminded me that I had forgotten her smell. It overflowed with parts of her. Her cell phone, dead of course, her lip gloss, and scraps of paper and gum wrappers, and blood. The bracelet that we had that matched, that she had worn up until it broke, and then it was kept in her purse, was gone. She never took it out, and she wouldn’t lose it, and it was gone. The shoulder strap was caked in a now rusty, metallic smelling coat. When I saw the blood, it was all I could do not to puke. There had never been any evidence of her actually being dead until then. Until then she was simply not here. The sergeant held my mom’s shoulders as he revealed that they had decided that that amount of blood meant that she had lost that much. It was blood that she had needed, meaning she was more than likely dead. In that moment it seemed absurd that what came to my mind was my anatomy class, where I learned that not much more than two pints of blood can be lost before the body begins to fail due to the loss of blood. If a major artery had been cut on her, it would take less than a few minutes before she would have no chance of surviving... There’s no way to forget something like that, your mom and dad falling to the ground, trembling. The people who were supposed to be stronger than you. Not knowing what had happened had finally caught up with them, with me too, it had been such an exhausting, emotional breaking point. I never thought we’d rise from it.
The investigation was deemed less important after that. A manhunt for a live person was one thing, but a body was another. Doylestown never felt quite as safe after all of that; everything was different. I know we all still feel it. It seems like we’re half drawn characters, like we will never know the author’s intent with us until Sadie’s body is found. We weren’t the Fields anymore, we were “that family whose daughter was stolen and murdered.” I felt like we were wearing our own special scarlet letter, and it seemed like we’d be those people forever. But eventually, the shock wore away. Such drama in a small town was bound to catch fire and light everything up, but time finally doused the flames.
My freshman year I learned about the stages of grief, and at the time I thought it was funny how someone could actually try and categorize something of human nature. Like how could the order of someone’s grief be predicted? But now I look back over the past few years, and I see the denial, the anger and bargaining for a better ending, the depression, and finally, four years later, the acceptance. In that order. It was hard to put two and two together that Sadie was gone, but she was, and trying to fool ourselves didn’t help.
The first anniversary was soaked in remorse. We lit lanterns, and visited her memorial that had been designed by the town. We didn’t eat that day. We came home from crying in public to cry more at home. The second anniversary was like a full day of denial. We visited her memorial again but we laughed and told stories as if the flowers held her face and she was talking right back to us. It took a lot of dedication for all of us to realize that these two extreme ways to deal were totally unhealthy. We decided that instead of losing our minds, or just acting of pure denial, we would just try to act normal. To be honest, if I could, I would skip over this day all together. People stare more, whisper more, and pity us more. People send us letters, call us, telling us that they’ve seen Sadie a town over. I don’t know what would possess people to do that so many years later, but it still happens sometimes. A lot of people in Doylestown mean well, but it drags up the bad times that we have tried to forget. This year, the goal was to act like it was a normal day, I think Sadie would want that.
I slowed my running down and tried to catch my breath as I passed the stand on the corner that sold everything from candy, to whiskey, to newspapers. I don’t really know what came over me and told me to do what I did next. I could feel eyes on me as I pulled out a 10 dollar bill, and purchased every newspaper available. Sadie’s story would never be a publicity stunt, I wouldn’t allow it. It’s been four years, there were no updates, and a headliner story was less than necessary. My guess was the author was just looking for a pay raise. The owner of the stand, deemed as “Sean” by the name tag on his chest, handed me the bag of papers, his eyes didn’t leave my face. Of course he knew who I was.
“Thank you sir. Have a good day.” I said this with a smile, trying to not sound strained.
The confusion was painted on his face as clear as a clown’s makeup; it could have been funny in any other situation. I took the bag home with me, and trashed it before my mother could see me do it. There was no point in her knowing, it was just something else to worry about, and she had gone through enough for 30 lifetimes. We all had.
As soon I shoved the papers to the bottom of the can, I heard my mom coming downstairs talking to someone. She rounded the corner and I could see that she was on the phone. She looked so normal. Normal was such a confusing term now, and it’s weird to think of her like that. She smiled at me and said goodbye to whoever, and hung up the phone.
If I think too hard about it, I realize how unsettling it was to see how calm she was, like today meant nothing. I know that we all agreed to be strong, but the way she smiled at me seemed empty. Can trauma like this cause someone to go crazy? If I didn’t know her, I would guarantee that that is where she was headed.
“It wasn’t bad, it’s actually getting chillier outside, which makes it harder to catch my breath.”
“Well maybe you should take a break for the time being, start up again next spring.”
The thought of not being able to run was a little overwhelming. If I couldn’t run, everything that I got off of my chest when I ran would more than likely blow me up. I’d sooner buy my own treadmill.
“We’ll see. Who were you just talking to on the phone?”
“Oh that was Mr. Heller. He called to ask me how we were all doing, how considerate is that?”
At the sound of that name I could feel myself perk up. Sadie used to babysit for the Heller family. She loved their two kids, who were fraternal twins, a little boy and a girl named Reid and Lena. They were older now, like 4 or 5, but when Sadie watched them they were just babies. The Hellers, Matt and Lisa, didn’t get any leave after they were born, so they had to find someone they could trust to watch their newborn babies, they had come straight to Sadie. We had grown up knowing the Heller’s, they were just down the road, and Sadie was 16, CPR certified, and loved babies. They couldn’t have found someone better. They loved Sadie, especially Mr. Heller. He was always so appreciative of how well she took care of the kids, and she really loved that family. When she went missing, the Heller’s took it just as hard as we had. I realized my mom was waiting on my reaction. My face told a story of confusion, I was never very good at hiding my emotions.
“That’s nice of him, how are they doing?” I tried to sound interested, but they were just another link to Sadie that I didn’t want to overthink about; it brought up more memories.
“The twins are doing well, they’re actually starting half-day preschool next fall. But recently the Heller’s have lost a baby sitter, she quit… they aren’t sure why, her explanation was lacking.”
I could tell there was something my mom wasn’t saying, like she knew exactly how I’d react, and she didn’t feel like discussing it.
“Well that’s a shame, I hope they can find a new one.” I tried to sound resolute, trying to send a message of “drop it” without actually saying it aloud. She hadn’t caught my drift.
“Here’s the thing, Mr. Heller was wondering if you would want to do it, babysit the kids I mean. He said he’d pay 10 dollars an hour, and it would only be during the week, you’d have your weekends! I really think you should do it, they’re good people who deserve some help… and Sadie would want you too.”
She spit it out so fast it sounded like all one word. The look on her face was desperate, a pleading stare. The whole “Sadie would want you too” was her guilt trip. I just don’t understand why it meant so much. I could tell by her face that if I said no she would be heartbroken, but I’m not sure why. I’m not Sadie, I couldn’t be her replacement. But a little extra cash, and helping my mom with whatever she was feeling, could be worth it in the long run.
“Alright mom I can do that. When do I start?”
She had actually jumped a little, wearing a huge smile. She hugged me and it was so warm and fulfilling, exactly what I really needed.
“Thank you, I’ll call Matt back now and let him know. He said that you’ll start on Monday.”
It seems to me that this job might be more than I bargained for, but I had to remember that I’m doing it for my mom. And for Sadie, she would want me to be a part of something she used to love. I miss her every day, hopefully I can feel her in doing this.
Authors can write and upload their manuscripts on Inkit for free and writers retain 100% of their copyrights while writing on Inkitt
Readers can read all books for free, without any ads and give the authors feedback.
Books that perform well based on their reader engagement are published on our Galatea app.
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