Ending the call, I throw my phone across the room and pick up a pillow from the couch, screaming into it. I don’t stop until my screams turn to sobs and my throat is raw. Even muffled by the pillow, they could have been heard from the street, but I don’t care. I’m back to square one again. Square fucking one.

I pull a bottle of whisky down from the cupboard, pour myself a shot and tip it back. Maybe I should just call in a casual to cover tonight’s shift. At the same moment, I hear Becky toot the horn on her car from out on the street, letting me know she is here. I find myself glancing from the door, to the bottle and back again. Taking my coat off the hook, I throw it over my shoulders, pick up my bag and close the door behind me. This crap will all still be here when I get back.

Fourteen years earlier …

The tv show we were watching cuts off and a news reporter pops up in its place. ‘Breaking news – A seventeen year old girl has been abducted this evening. Natalie Younge was last seen working the closing shift at Greenwood IGA. Surveillance shows her taking rubbish out the back of the store when a blacked-out SUV pulls up, two men grab her and toss her into the back seat. If anyone has any information, or has seen anything, please contact authorities immediately.’ We watched quietly as footage was shown of the horrific ordeal.

Dad had left for work like normal that morning, but had later phoned home to let us know he would be working overnight. He ended up being gone for three days straight and when he, eventually, returned things were different.

I was only eight years old at the time so three days had felt like three weeks. Instead of a warm and welcoming reunion, the atmosphere was tense; something told me not to show anyone how happy and excited I was that he was finally home.

That night I sat with my door cracked open, listening to the conversation my parents were having down the hall.

“We tracked down one of the men from the surveillance footage, the one with the tattoo,” Dad paused before he continued. “We linked the tattoo to a rough underground club of sorts, on the outskirts of town.”

I could hear Mum pottering around in the kitchen — looking back now she was clearly keeping herself busy to calm her nerves. “Were you able to raid the location?” she asked.