The last photo I have of Livia was taken at 5:12 p.m. on our front porch.
She stood in a pale blue dress, her hand linked through Liam’s arm, wearing that impatient teenage smile.
“Stay together tonight,” I told them.
Liam smiled. “We always do, Mom.”
Livia rolled her eyes. “Mom, we’re 18, not eight.”
“I know,” I said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “That’s why I’m nervous.”
“Stay together tonight.”
John touched my shoulder. “Camila, let them enjoy prom.”
I ignored him and looked at Livia. “And stay away from Mitchell.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Mom.”
“I’m serious.”
“No,” she said. “You know his mom. That’s not the same thing.”
“And stay away from Mitchell.”
Liam tugged her arm. “Liv, come on. We’re gonna be late.”
“Can I have one night where you trust me, Mom?”
“Trust isn’t the issue.”
She stared at me.
“It never is with you.”
Then she walked down the porch steps with Liam.
“Can I have one night where you trust me, Mom?”
That was the last time I heard my daughter’s voice.
At 11:47 p.m., the phone rang.
My hand shook when I saw the school number.
“Camila?” Mr. Thomas said. “You and John need to come to the school now.”
“What happened?”
His voice shook. “It’s Livia. She stepped outside, and no one has seen her since.”
“You and John need to come to the school now.”
John was already grabbing his keys.
I said the first name my fear gave me.
“Where’s Mitchell?”
Mr. Thomas paused. “We don’t know that he has anything to do with this.”
“Of course he does.”
“Camila, please just come.”
Balloons still hung from the gym doors when we arrived.
“Camila, please just come.”
Liam sat outside the office in his tux, his bow tie loose around his neck.
I rushed to him. “Where is she?”
His face crumpled. “She said she needed air. I thought she’d come right back.”
“You promised me you’d stay together.”
“I know.”
“Camila,” John said softly.
I pulled away from him. “Where’s Mitchell?”
“I thought she’d come right back.”
Liam flinched.
I saw it.
I just misunderstood it.
Mr. Thomas stepped closer. “We’ve called the police. They’re checking the grounds. Her purse is gone, and her phone is off. Because she’s 18, this could have been her choice.”
“Her purse is gone?” John asked.
“Her purse is gone, and her phone is off.”
I grabbed that detail and twisted it into what I could handle.
“Then he planned it.”
“Mom,” Liam whispered. “Stop.”
But I didn’t stop.
***
The next morning, I saw Natalie in the school parking lot, talking to an officer. Mitchell was gone too, but I stormed over before John could stop me.
But I didn’t stop.
“Where did your son take my daughter?”
Natalie turned slowly. Her face was pale, but her voice stayed calm.
“I don’t know where they are.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“They’re in love, Camila,” Natalie said.
I stepped closer. “Don’t you dare say that.”
“I don’t know where they are.”
Liam grabbed my arm. “Mom, please.”
Natalie looked at him with pity.
That made me angrier.
“You think you’re better than me,” I said.
“No, Camila. Just louder when you’re afraid.”
John caught my wrist.
That made me angrier.
“Enough.”
People were watching.
“My daughter is gone,” I said. “And your family did this.”
Natalie didn’t answer.
She just looked at Liam again.
For 11 months, I lived inside that sentence.
