The clock struck 1 am on a dark Monday morning when Alice Colins jolted awake, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced at the empty space beside her in bed, her brow furrowing in confusion. Hannah, her 17-year-old daughter, was nowhere to be found. Panic surged through Alice's veins as she reached for her phone, fingers trembling as she dialed Hannah's number.

The piercing ringtone echoed through the quiet house, but there was no response. Alice's worry deepened with each unanswered call. She tried again and again, her voice shaking with desperation as she left voicemail after voicemail, pleading for Hannah to come home. Tears welled up in Alice's eyes, her mind racing with terrifying possibilities.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Alice swung her legs out of bed and paced anxiously across the room. She couldn't shake off the gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong. The sound of her footsteps seemed to echo in the empty house, amplifying her fear. She tiptoed past Hannah's room, its door wide open and the bed untouched.

Fear turned into frantic worry, and Alice decided she couldn't wait any longer. She threw on a robe and hurried downstairs, her heart pounding in her chest. The house felt unusually cold and hollow without Hannah's laughter and presence. She glanced at the clock in the hallway—it was past 2 am now. Alice's mind raced with worst-case scenarios as she fumbled for her phone once again.