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Ready to take us seriously now, the police showed up at our apartment at exactly 9 AM. If anyone has any information, please contact the police.” Alex Bronte was discovered dead with a paper reading, ‘don’t lie to us’ nailed to her chest. She was in a football jersey and smiling, holding the ball above her head with a smile. Later that night the news showed pictures of Alex from last year. Bronte was generally good about addressing Alex as she wished, but in a moment of panic, she must have forgotten. We all supported her, and her coming out was what really brought her and Charlotte together. The only words I could make out were, “My boy! My little boy is gone!”Īlex was a bright girl. Bronte, the mother of Charlotte’s best friend, and she was in hysterics. I searched every inch of that park and all I had to show for it were a couple pieces of discarded pizza crust and acorns. Because nobody could find it, it was thought that maybe whoever took her shut off her phone. The police had briefly searched it, so I did a more thorough look over. The park was where Charlotte’s phone last gave off a signal. She hadn’t asked for it, but she knew what it was when I handed her the glass. I had given her juice with sleeping pills, like she gives me before we travel anywhere. I went to the park after mom fell asleep. The heart wouldn’t help me find her, though, and it didn’t help me with mom. Whenever I tried she would tell me, “You think too much. She was the emotionally smart one of us: always knew exactly what to say or do in order to comfort someone. I suddenly realized the hole Charlotte’s absence left in our lives. I sat on the couch next to her, patting her back. She looked like she hadn’t slept all night and appeared small as she curled into the couch. Strands of hair stuck to her wet cheeks in waves. Her curly hair was wild, poking in all directions, and was flat in random places. Her shoulders shook and her sobs grew louder and uncontained after we heard the door shut. They saw themselves out as mom cried on the couch. An officer, who pretended to take notes (I saw his blank notebook myself) shut said notebook and put it in his pocket. The police told her and the other parents that if their children didn’t return after 72 hours they should call again to report them missing officially. They tried tracking her phone at mom’s insistence, but the signal from her phone, as well as the three others, were gone. “Get out.” Her words were colder than the freezer. “You didn’t know she did drugs,” the officer said. “She was a good girl, always had her location on. She didn’t bother to wipe the tears away at this point. “Charlie would never go somewhere without telling me,” she insisted, tears bringing mascara down her cheeks and head drooping low. It was common enough among teens, especially those entering adulthood. Drugs combined with friends led to adventures that were unplanned, the officer explained. The police thought she went off on her own. It was a regular thing–she and her friends met up at 6 o’clock every Friday night and went to the park to eat to, as she put it, “have fun!” The “fun” was something we tried to hide from mom, but after she called the police when Charlotte wasn’t in bed Saturday morning, she found out anyway. It wasn’t like going to Comet was out of the ordinary. I just want my sister back.”Ĭharlotte went to Comet Pizza with three of her friends Friday night. She’s out there somewhere, so please–if you see something, anything, please let us know. She loves pizza, crop tops, and she has blonde hair. Mentions of drugs, kidnapping, sexual violence/trafficking