Walking down the lanes of my memory I remember the case I worked on, the case where me and my team failed to find the girl, a 16-year-old who left her house in the morning, but never to return at night.

Using what all I learned in my university I tried to find where she was, or at least was she alive? And even after 25 years this question still haunts me. What happened to her?

I tried going all the roads she did as the witnesses said she took that day, trying to feel what she did at that particular moment. Knowing her mother didn't die by accidents but by suicide and having no one to discuss it to. She was fighting her thoughts alone.

Being a studious but introvert kid left her with a very few friends. But even they were planning to run away from their houses, away from all the problems, and to live a better life. A life where secrecy won't follow them anymore.

Unfortunately, my little missing teenager, never made to that life, even if she did I don't know-how. She had no passport and no pocket money to save on. But she did work in the library with not very good pay.

With a daughter of the same age, I was more worried than her family was. And after knowing in this chase of getting my answer I was all alone to work with. What left is a possibility with me to calm my thoughts and to tell an answer to my question, that my little teenager made to the life she wanted to live in. Changed her identity and would be living somewhere safe and happy with a family of her own in her own Eutopia.
© Allen George