BRIAN'S POV
I sat at my parents' kitchen table with cold coffee in front of me. The silence was enveloping, and I could hardly breathe. Mom sat beside me, her hand clutched over mine so tightly that her nails dug into my skin, but I did not move. She looked as weathered as I felt: her eyes red and swollen, her pale face etched with concern.
Edgy for the first time in my life, anxious instead of laid-back, he paced up and down in the room. At last, Olivia's disappearance had finally scared him in ways I could never have imagined. In a way, all this felt like an invisible weight cast upon all of us, the burden heavy, heavier with every minute passing.
"Brian," Mom whispered, shaking from head to toe, "do you think they'll ever find her? She's just a little girl. She's been through so much." I wanted to reassure her-say we'd get Olivia back, safe and sound-but words wouldn't come.