Searching
For the twenty-sixth time, his call went unanswered. He was feeling like he was going mad. Perhaps his brother was right but he couldn’t be sure. Why, oh why, didn’t this idiot answer his phone. He couldn’t be already sleeping, could he ? Not possible. He had tried to call him as soon as he noticed him missing, about five minutes after he had last been seen.
One more try. Please, oh please, answer that damn phone, his lips formed in an inaudible whisper. There was no need to worry, he told himself. He’d looked like the death himself but that was normal for anyone who spent to much time inside, wasn’t it. He had been quiet but on the other hand he was always too quiet so that was hardly an evidence. Why had he the indefinite feeling that he was going to get hurt? That he was going to get himself hurt?
He had almost given up all hopes when he heard a click in the line.
“Hey, listen up, where…?” he started and then stopped dead. Voice mail. He’d never before been directed to voicemail this evening. Did this mean that something had happened? No, he told himself. Calm down. His battery might have run out of power. Yes, that was definitely it.
No, it wasn’t. He knew it. Deep down, he knew. Nothing was alright. And he couldn’t stay here and wait and go on like nothing has happened.
“I’m going,” he told the world in general. He grabbed his coat and was out before anyone had even the slightest chance to stop him. He had to do something.
So he hurried down the lane, as fast as he could, not caring about the black ice and all the snow which made the walk slippery. Got into his car without falling even once. Drove as fast as he dared to his house.
No lights were on. There were not even Christmas illuminations. It all looked so … dead. He shook his head. No, stop thinking like this. He isn’t. Not even when his house looks like no one has been living inside for some decades even though there clearly has to be someone who looks after the garden and cleans a bit. You’re fantasising.
He ringed anyway. Of course – not even he had expected it – no one answered. Why couldn’t this be the old times when there had been at least a maid who would have told him that the master hasn’t been home yet?
He tried to think of what to do next. He had no idea. He didn’t know where he went when he wanted to be alone. He’d always thought the answer to this was “home” or “his house”. And now he could see, that this answer was false.
When his phone rang, he instantly answered without looking on the display.
“Yes?” He sounded so much out of breath. Please, oh please, dear god, let it be him.
But it wasn’t. He’d never call. He will never call. Damn. He bit down on his lips.
It was his brother, worried about him, wanting to know what was going on. Not understanding why he was so worried. Trying to calm him down in vain. In the end promising to help him searching. Promising to get other’s to help him as well.
“You might want to start looking for him in the park,” was the last his brother said before he hung up.
So he ran. Ran so fast his chest hurt. Ran as long as he had hope.
