Tessa Keene was a sweetheart through and through- pure-hearted, kind, and incapable of cruelty. She didn't have much, but she had Robby, and that was all she needed. He was her rock, her safe place, the one person she could always count on. But when...
Tessa sat up in bed, the morning light creeping in through the blinds like usual. She pushed her messy, tangled hair away from her face and looked around. Everything looked the same—her blanket wrapped around her legs, the familiar posters, the quiet hum of the apartment.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching half-heartedly before shuffling into the hallway. "Dad?" she called, voice muffled by a yawn. She rubbed at her eyes, her movements slow, almost childlike as she wandered toward the living room.
She shuffled into the room, squinting at the empty couch, the disheveled blanket thrown across it like usual. Her eyes darted around the room, the emptiness crawling up her spine like a shadow.
She muttered something under her breath, more tired than tense, and pivoted back toward the hall with dragging feet. "Dad?" she called again, voice carrying through the quiet apartment. As she reached his door, she gave it a casual shove with her palm, the hinges creaking softly as it swung open. But the room was empty.
Tessa exhaled, long and tired, barely fazed. He was probably at Carmen's already, maybe having coffee, maybe making breakfast. She slipped on her sneakers with lazy movements, fingers dragging along the frayed tongue of the shoe, and stepped toward the front door. She opened it casually, expecting the familiar sprawl of the courtyard, the gentle clatter of someone's windchimes, maybe the faint smell of breakfast drifting through the air.
But there was nothing. Just black.
Not darkness, not night—something worse. A hollow void stretched out beyond the doorframe, swallowing up the steps, the sky, the world. A weightless, silent nothing.
She stood there for a moment, frozen, unable to process what she was seeing. Her breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening. Her fingers still gripped the doorknob, knuckles pale from the pressure. She tried to take a step forward, but it was as if her feet were glued to the ground. "...Dad?" she whispered, blinking hard like maybe it would reset the world.
She turned, but the apartment had vanished around her—no couch, no dining table, not even the cluttered kitchen counters that always overflowed with takeout menus and forgotten coffee mugs. Just bare walls and a suffocating stillness. "Dad?" Her voice cracked as she called out again, louder this time, the word echoing off the hollow space like it didn't belong to her.
Her face crumpled as the tears came fast and hot, her shoulders heaving. "No, no, no," she cried, collapsing fully to the floor now, curled up so tight her ribs hurt. "I didn't do anything wrong. Please. I'll be better—just come back—just come back—" She was drowning in it—the loneliness, the silence, the terrifying stillness of being the only person left in the world.
"Tessa."
The voice was distant, warped like it was underwater. Her head snapped toward it, eyes wide and wild, but no one was there—just that same awful emptiness swallowing the space around her.
Her chest hitched, and she gasped. A sob broke from her throat—ugly and aching and raw. She couldn't stop the way her body trembled, or the way her hands shook like they were trying to hold her together. "Please," she whispered, nearly choking on the word, "please don't leave me. I'm right here. Please."
"Tessa—shh, shh, it's okay, it's just a dream—" The voice was soft but urgent, cutting through the fog like a tether. Tessa flinched, her eyes snapping open, wild and unfocused. She shot upright so fast she nearly collided with Carmen, who had clearly rushed in at the sound of her crying. The bedside lamp was on now, casting warm light around Miguel's room and Carmen's face, drawn with concern, hovered close as she reached to brush sweaty strands of hair from Tessa's face. "You're okay," Carmen whispered. "Mija, just breathe. You're safe."
And then it all came crashing back—like a wave too big for her chest.
Miguel was gone.
When Johnny and Robby left for Mexico to find Miguel, Tessa had begged to go with them. She pleaded, packed a bag, even waited by the door with hopeful eyes. But the second Johnny learned that Miguel's father was dangerous, his answer was instant and unshakable. "No," he said, voice firm. "You're staying here where it's safe. That's final." So, with her mom off visiting her parents for a few months, that meant Tessa was left in the care of Carmen and Rosa.
Tessa blinked fast, her lower lip trembling. Her hands clenched at the blanket, trying to ground herself in the fabric beneath her fingers—something solid, something real. Carmen's hand found hers, warm and steady.
Tessa blinked hard, her eyes stinging. "Why didn't he say goodbye? Why won't he answer my texts—what if he's hurt?"
Carmen's expression broke, her own worry etched into the lines of her face. But she smiled through it, warm and gentle, pulling Tessa into a hug. "Johnny is going to find him and bring him home. Everything is going to be okay."
Tessa didn't answer. She just cried harder, her face buried in Carmen's shoulder, her whole body trembling.
Without hesitation, Carmen shifted, climbing onto the bed and settling in beside her. She pulled Tessa into her arms and leaned back against the headboard, cradling the girl tightly against her chest. One hand rubbed slow circles on her back, the other tangled gently in her hair.
"Everything will be okay," Carmen murmured, resting her cheek on Tessa's head. "I've got you."
And she did. She held her like she'd hold her own daughter—no questions, no conditions. Just love. As the night pressed in around them, Carmen stayed right there, her arms a steady shelter against the storm.
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