VANISHED (#1 in the VANISHED series) #NaNoWriMo2019 ✔

t h r e e ✔✔

The McNeely residence. A mansion like the ones in old school episodes of MTV Cribs. The thick-gated properties belonging to celebrities with too much money to spend on frivolous crap.

Arielle hated the place, but in the days when Jade was alive... it was a small paradise. It had a giant pool in the backyard, a private hot-tub, a well-stocked game-room, a kitchen overflowing with snacks, and a staff at Jade's beck-and-call. Every teenage girl's dream.

But the only moments Arielle ever dreamed of it now was in nightmares. Horrific flashes where she saw Jade running down the hallways, leaving bloody footprints in her wake. Or drowning in her crystalline waters, dunked and drowned by some disgruntled idiot who worked for her parents. The images haunted her more with every passing day, because she'd never know how Jade died, would she?

Mrs. McNeely's call, the day after her loan fiasco and coffee-date with Stella, had surprised her. Was it fate?

"My husband and I thought it over, and... there is a box of things we were able to scrounge up for you. Things we don't think Jade would mind you having."

She texted Stella to tell her, and she replied with half a page of "shock" emojis and a few "thumbs-up" of encouragement.

What Mrs. McNeely meant: "here, take these items of no significant value that we can't keep around because they'd embarrass her memory. They are junk we wouldn't be caught dead having in our house if we were filmed for reality-TV."

Jade had mentioned her dad was in talks for something like that. A show highlighting Mr. McNeely, the famous internet website mogul who landed himself a gorgeous activist wife, and their superb and smart daughter. The wealthy mixed-race couple who made headlines for their outbursts against local racism groups. And that was the only positive point Arielle would ever give Jade's parents. They fought for what they believed in and advocated equality and justice.

At the security gates—that she and Stella had pounded on a few weeks ago to get answers—frozen tremors tickled down her back. She reached over her roll-down car window and pushed the intercom button.

"McNeely Residence." The stiff voice that always answered—George, the butler.

"It's Arielle... Arielle Daniels. Mrs. McNeely invited me over to—"

A beep signified the gate was opening. And without any banter with George, who used to be so friendly whenever Arielle announced herself. Oh, how things had changed.

Arielle directed her car up the wide entrance, peeking at the tailored bushes and vivid violet flowers lining the path. Two months ago, she and Jade had paced near those. They were yelling about New Year's resolutions already gone awry and parental expectations, and Jade had started mentioning needing a vacation. The spooky trip talks started soon after that, Arielle recalled.

She continued her route to the curve of the driveway where she'd always park, under the elaborate awning spreading from above the golden-inlaid doors. Another memory surfaced as she gaped at said doors; from four weeks ago, when a teary-eyed, unusually disheveled Mrs. McNeely let her in. She guided her to a basement area where they'd put Jade's corpse in a shiny mahogany coffin and dressed in her least-favorite designer outfit. Her face, once a coppery caramel shade, was so pale she looked like a porcelain doll. Fragile, frozen, and dead.

Arielle missed her vibrant hazel eyes—identical to her father's, but lacking their sternness. Hers were always warm and comforting. Lively and loving. That day, she couldn't see Jade's eyes; the once joyful girl lay immobile, silent, never to express an opinion again. And it broke Arielle to pieces. Her knees still hurt from when she crumbled onto the cold basement floor and wept for what felt like hours. Mrs. McNeely then ordered George to grasp her by the sleeve and drag her out.