Page 12 of Psyop Kings

Megan disappeared from my life and it’s strange.

So why doesn’t anyone else think so?

That part is what keeps me up at night. Teachers, counselors, and even her roommate all seem to be unbothered by her disappearance.

She’s a nobody to them.

The thought is a punch to the gut. Megan mentioned that to me once. That nobody notices her. I laughed it off, but it was a truth she wholeheartedly felt. It pains me to realize she was right. No one but me seems to notice or care.

“Miss Langston. Detective Bryant will see you now.”

I jolt at the intrusion of the maze my mind is currently navigating. With a polite smile, I rise to my feet and follow the short woman to a tiny office that reeks of stale coffee and mothballs. Detective Bryant, a man in his late fifties or earlysixties, with a protruding gut and dark rings under his eyes, doesn’t bother looking up from his phone when I enter.

As I take a seat, I quickly scan the messy space. Folders and papers are stacked haphazardly all over his desk and back credenza. There’s no rhyme or reason to the mess. He also has an impressive collection of McDonald’s to-go cups crowding the area behind his computer monitor. I become fixated on the swollen, bubbled side of one of the cups that looks seconds from bursting all over the important-looking documents beneath it.

“You’re here to report a missing person?” Detective Bryant says, voice monotone and uninterested.

“Yep,” I say, straightening and forcing my gaze away from the disaster waiting to happen. “Her name is Megan Benson. She’s a student at USC and was in my government class. Her roommate said—”

Riiiip!

The detective tearing off a form from a pad drowns out my words. He slaps it down in front of me on top of other papers.

“There’s a spot for all that,” he says, motioning a meaty finger at the form. “Just put it there.”

I swallow down my irritation and scan the atrocious desk for a pen. He’s already gone back to scrolling on his phone, not even bothering to feign interest in this case. When I notice a pen poking out from beneath a folder, I reach over and pluck it out.

It takes me a good five minutes to fill out the form. I write down in precise detail every single thing I know about Megan, every conversation had about her disappearance, and even a few of my theories about where she could have gone. My main worry is that she’s been kidnapped.

When I finally finish writing the last detail on the back of the form in the margins on the side, I find Detective Bryant staring at me with narrowed eyes. Ignoring his annoyed expression, I hand the completed form over to him.

“Your number’s on here?” he asks, squinting to read my tiny writing on the form. “Ah, there it is. We’ll be in touch.”

My eye twitches at his response. “When?”

“When we have something to report.”

“That’s it?”

“What were you expecting, ma’am?”

I gape at him, disgusted by his rudeness. “To do your job. To immediately start working on the case!”

“My job is to input this into the computer and if I get any hits, I’ll follow up and let you know. That’s me working on the case, kid.”

Unbelievable.

I’m tempted to call Dad and get him involved, but I quickly push that thought away. The whole reason I moved out here was to get away from his influence, not bring it with me. Yes, Dad would get this sloth cop to do something, but it’d come at a cost. He’d want to know why I was getting involved in all this and it wouldn’t take long for him to see how frayed I am over it. Then he’d think I wasn’t hacking it out on my own and would want me to come back home.

Ugh.

Not doing that.

“Fine,” I grunt out, rising to my feet. “Please hurry. She’s probably in danger.”

He doesn’t appear to be moved by my fear-inducing words. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, miss. Most missing adults are missing on purpose. They can’t deal with life, so they run from it.”

I try not to grimace at his words that parallel my own life.

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