Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Hello! I'm back from vacation and with my test completed I've got a few days of freedom left before I head back to university. It feels crazy brilliant, this freedom. I can do whatever I want, especially write! :) I hope everyone's summer's were as fantastic as mine! I had a thrilling couple of months. But enough about me. Without further ado, I present the beginning of the next installment of my little story. Hope y'all enjoy it. :)

So sorry it took so long to post,

-S

Model Imprint

Chapter 1: Hide and Seek

where are we?
what the hell is going on?
...spin me round again
and rub my eyes,
this can't be happening

-Hide and Seek, Imogen Heap

There is a stillness to the morning that comes just before the dawn. The air is colder, the grass is icy and the woods, the great woods stall their movements in preparation for the light show that is about to commence.

My father used to tell me that, that very moment was when everyone and everything were attuned to another, because we all awaited the very same thing: the beginning of a new day.

When I was much younger I would wake up while it was still dark outside most mornings. But back then the darkness would frighten me and I would run to my parents' room. My father would tuck me in between them and then lull me to sleep as he told me stories of their youth.

Today, as I lay awake, the pre-dawn light bathing my room in an eerie gray, there was no one to hush my fears and tell me stories.

Today, I was alone.

The wood downstairs creaked as it contracted in the coolness of the morning and I shivered. The crackling was always annoying, I'd never quite been able to shake the childish fear that it was not the beams in the roof but rather the footsteps of a marauder.

It had been a week since I had found out the my parents were murdered. It had been just over since Jared had left.

My parents were no where to be found, no news or their disappearance and none, most certainly none of their reappearance. Jared was still absent from school and there were various rumors regarding the why. I'd yet to hear a plausible one. But I tried my best to keep from seeking out the truth. Worrying about him would do me no good.

He was harder to forget than I'd like to admit, but I was trying. I was trying with everything that I had because I had to break this cycle.

I wasn't going to get left behind again.

I hadn't given up on my parents, though. That was a different matter entirely. I was becoming obsessive, I could barely think of anything else without spacing out or becoming so incredibly distracted. Any idea, any remotely competent idea I had and even those that weren't, I tried.

Anything.

The need to know was so strong. And it pulled me like nothing has ever urged me before. I was useless unless I was searching for them. It was the only thing I had left to hold on to.

Dr. Cullen's words were certainly disheartening but their bodies were still missing and the police were quiet. No words from any of the detectives on the case, and there were numerous. My father's law firm were, according to Cynthia, quite active in their pursuit of my father but no one seemed to be able to come up with anything. The only other curious thing was that there was no mention of my parents disappearance in the paper. Everything was being kept quiet.

It could simply be my father's law firm maintaining a silence so that the bad PR didn't affect their holdings but I suspected otherwise.

Someone wanted my parents bodies to stay hidden.

I knew I had to find them. My parents deserved that much. When their murderer saw justice, then, then I could rest, and find some sort of solace.

But until then, I would have to be vigilant.

Because no one cared as much as I did, I knew that much for sure.

Flicking on the lights I stepped carefully into my slippers avoiding the frozen floors. My room was as it always was, about half way between clean and tidy. Cluttered paint supplies littered the floor around the raised dais in the middle of the room. Upon it was my easel, which looked out over a large panoramic window that showcased the wide Olympic forest that bordered our backyard.

The other three walls that made up my room held my mahogany four poster bed, a medium sized desk and three doors, one to the hallway outside, one to my bathroom and the last to my walk-in closet.

My walls were covered in a self-painted mural that was a mishmash of colors and intensity, flowing from vibrant violet to deep and dormant blues.

Passing into the bathroom, I stepped into the shower, bypassing the mirror. I knew I'd been losing weight and unable to sleep. I didn't need to see the detrimental effects it was having on my figure and face.

About half an hour later, I found myself in the kitchen, perusing the news online. But there was nothing. I checked every couple of hours for something, anything that showed that someone else knew about my parents but it was as if the world had moved on before it had gotten the chance to move in.

The cupboard was slightly ajar from my last hot-chocolate venture last night but I headed over and started to make a new cup anyway. I'd perfected a recipe around seventh grade when my parents started going away for business more often. It would help me sleep more than anything else when the house was quiet.

First imported Brazilian chocolate was melted in a heated pan, and then a few tablespoons of heavy cream and then about half a cup of milk was added. Finally, marshmallows topped my cup to add the necessary sweetness that would counteract the bitterness of the chocolate.

I felt anxious. Not just now but constantly these days. Everything mundane seemed to fade to gray, but the phone. Whenever the phone rang, it was like someone had set fire to my nerves, I was jittery and my heart would race and my palms would start to sweat. But there was nothing consequential.

Nothing.

My hot chocolate was done and I poured it into a mug before heading to the cupboard for marshmallows and then stopping halfway as I remembered finishing the packet last night.

I felt myself sink down at that small setback. My eyes were dry and tired and aching, there had been too much crying. It felt like couldn't possibly churn out any more tears.

But then something tiny,anything, would set me off.

I wished I had the control I'd had before.

I hadn't left the house or at least tried not to during the past week: calling in sick and only going to school after classes had let out to pick up my assignments. Jared had been something I was worried about, and the first day I had run from my car to the office and back, head shrouded under a thick jacket, face downturned in an effort to avoid being seen. But my efforts were of no consequence as I found out quickly enough when I over heard Gillian Moore mentioning that Jared was absent from U.S. History, making the class unbearable. I fled after that, his name tugging at my nerves viciously.

It was hard to go back the next day. So hard. But thankfully, there were no further encounters with Jared or his name.

I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't be at school when my parents were dead. I only found calm when I was searching.

But sometimes it felt like I'd looked everywhere, like there was no where to go from here. And then the shivering started, and the shaking as doubt infiltrated my nerves, sucking and usurping any ounce of calm I'd held until I was left immobile and weak.

Misery was a vicious beast and I was at her beck and call.

Not today. I stood up straighter and furiously wiped away the wetness on my cheeks and glared at myself in the decorative mirror that hung in the halls.

Today, things would start going differently.

I grabbed my coat and my keys and headed to the store. I'd start with proper nourishment and then I'd see if there was anything I could find out in town. Someone knew something, and I was going to find out what.

I felt a sudden surge of strength and it was palliative. I could breath again.

I left the room, my hot chocolate forgotten, the heated liquid steaming in the quiet of the kitchen.

Pulling up to the grocery store, I parked as close as possible and then let out a breath. For a second it almost felt like I could pretend that nothing had happened, that everything was fine. There were so many people who were ignorant of my situation and it was soothing to walk amongst them and absorb their sense of normalcy.

The aisles were brilliantly lit and I careened down the one with bread and was just picking out my favorite when a familiar voice filtered over. Or rather voices. Nina and Tracy Russet.

"Tray, he's been gone for a week and I still haven't heard from him." Nina whined to my right.

Jared. That name again. I took a deep breath, calming the fluttering in my stomach.

I'd tried so hard to think of other things and I felt like a wretched daughter for concerning myself with him when my parents were dead.

But the hurt from that seemed to exacerbate everything else.

I couldn't escape it.

"Look he probably is just really sick, you know Ms. T wouldn't lie to you." Came Tracey's uninterested monotone.

Sick? Was he okay? I couldn't-I needed-No! I couldn't get involved.

He wanted me to leave him alone.

I tried to stop listening, even hurriedly grabbed a loaf of bread without checking the brand and starting to walk off when their voices drew closer.

"I guess…" I heard Nina trail off uneasily before their light steps paused. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickling and looked up to find them both staring at me.

I smiled hesitantly but Tracy just glared. I dropped my chin and kept moving, hoping to walk by unscathed and at the same time feeling that burning longing to know. I needed some sort of relief from this conscious state of questioning and anxiety. Tracy stalked imperiously past me, shoving into my shoulder and I gasped softly at the impact. I brushed the shelves as I steadied myself.

Nina, however, was motionless.

"Hey Kim." She said finally, her face pensive.

"Hi." I responded slowly. I felt my resolve waver as the idea of Jared actually being deathly ill crossed my mind. I was just being a good citizen for asking about it, right?

"Kim," Nina interrupted my thought process.

"Have you heard from Jared?" She finished quickly and I looked at her curiously before shaking my head. She must really be desperate for news if she was asking me. Where was he?

"Nothing, sorry." I shrugged apologetically but she seemed to have lost interest in me. She was turning away when I stopped her.

"Is he okay?"

It came spilling out before I could stop myself. And I felt the concern rise, struggling and tugging as it went and for a moment it was like my last breath depended on this answer. I couldn't understand it.

She was frozen, her back to me, but she answered quickly, the words wooden.

"He's sick, his mom's been keeping me regularly updated." She stayed as she was, refusing to face me.

"Oh." I nodded, unsure of what else to say.

She was lying. I knew it. She knew it. But neither of us was willing to bring it up.

She walked away quickly and I was left staring after her, unsure of what to do now. Out of habit, I turned to my left.

"Mom, what do-" And then stopped. She wasn't there. I felt a shiver rattle down my bones and I felt my hands tremble in horror. I had forgotten. I had forgotten she was dead. They both were. I leaned back against the shelves and shut my eyes, counting to ten quietly and slowly. Breathing in on the odds and breathing out on the evens.

Everything was still.

And then I heard a box fall from the shelf next to me, jerking my eyes open, and there just to my left a little boy smiled up. His front teeth were missing. I picked up the box of animal crackers and shoved it back on the shelf. My fingers gripped the cardboard, squeezing until it gave way slightly from the pressure. I felt minutely better.

He was still watching me, but his grin had faded. He looked worried. He looked behind him and then turned back to me, his mouth twisting.

I knew that look. He was going to cry.

"Hey, it's okay." I cooed and he brightened a little before looking around me.

"Is mom there?" He asked, his voice high and wavering. A wet thumb gestured behind me. My heart sank as I realized his plight. He was lost. I felt a delicate kinship with the little boy; it was that sad sort of ache when you meet someone who is searching for the same thing you are. Except in my case, there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

"She isn't, but what do you say you and I go find her?" I hurriedly suggested and he stuck his hand out for mine before leading me down the aisle.

He paused and checked behind three cereal boxes before grinning back at me.

"Mom hides really good." I smiled down at him.

"I'll bet she does." I muttered before pulling him away.

"Makes it harder to find her." I felt my heart jump a beat at that.

"You're right. But don't worry, I'm a really good seeker." I gave his hand a squeeze before turning down the next aisle.

"Where's your mom?" He asked suddenly as we met another empty section.

"She's-she's not here." I supplied quickly, doing my best not to think about where she was. This little boy was a wonderful distraction and I was going to take it.

"Maybe she's with mom." I gripped his hand a little tighter.

"Maybe, but I don't think so." He stopped then and reached into his pocket. He sifted around for a moment and then pulled out a sticky jolly rancher and shoved it into my hand. I looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"You looked sad." He made a face at me and then wrapped my fingers around the hard candy. He patted my fist then. And then tugged me down the next aisle as I followed in surprise.

There she was.

A young woman, of say thirty or so, her face twisted in worry. She was rushing away from the aisle when he called out.

"Mom! I found you!"

"Wallace!" The relief in her voice was heart-wrenching and I felt my vision grey as I glanced to my left again. Still empty.

I planted my best smile on my face as I handed him over but before I could say anything I was smothered in a lung-crushing hug.

"Your-welcome?" I stuttered and she laughed gaily in response.

"Thank you! He just got away from me and I've been so worried."

"Don't mention it." I said softly as she leaned back to grab Wallace, his hand tightly grasped in hers.

Wallace. It suited him. But it was a little dry.

Wally, I abbreviated. I turned it over my tongue and it fit.

"My name is Marion Wayne." She held out her spare hand, her eyes twinkling. I smiled back, carefully watching my hand to make sure it didn't tremble as I shook hers.

"Kim Connweller."

"Well, Kim, if you ever need anything, you just call me up, okay?" She lifted Wally's hand as if offering proof of her commitment but I just nodded.

She held up a hand, waving lightly as she turned and left and I was just turning away when I heard the patter of feet in my direction. I turned to see little Wally jogging towards me and then bent over, panting slightly and I laughed.

"What's up, Wally?" I asked, a slow smile stretching across my face. It had been so long since that was natural. I felt revitalized in a way that I hadn't felt in a while.

He leaned in conspiratorially before whispering to me.

"If you ever need help finding your mom, I'm your man." I fought to keep my face neutral, ignoring the rush of emotion at his words. If only it were so simple.

"Thanks, kiddo." I ruffled his hair before pulling him in for a quick hug. He struggled after a moment and pulled away only to plant a firm and slightly moist kiss on my cheek.

I melted.

He nodded then and waved goodbye quickly before running back to his mother and I saw his little shoulders sag with relief as they clasped each others hands again. I felt a familiar ache in my chest as I watched them walk away.

I glanced to my left.

But my own mother was far, far, far away from here.

I finished the rest of my shopping quickly and then paused by the magazine rack. Whenever I was sick dad always brought me reading material. Mom made me killer chicken noodle. I still hadn't decided which I preferred.

Jared was sick. He'd missed school for a week. It could be serious. If he didn't-he would be fine.

I moved past but something tugged me back. Before I knew I was at the counter, a stack of various sports magazines in my hand, topped off with the latest Dan Brown novel. I had bought everything before I could blink and suddenly I was loading everything into my car, the literature burning a hole in the back of my mind as I resolutely ignored the fact that I had bought them until I finished loading the groceries.

I sat, closed the door and then shut my eyes. Time to decide.

Pro: He's sick so you have a legitmate reason.

Con: He wants you to leave him alone.

Pro: I could leave them in the mailbox, thereby avoiding all contact.

Con: He wants you to leave him alone.

Pro: I still needed to thank him, properly and not while sobbing my head off, for taking me to meet Dr. Cullen. I could also use this as an opportunity to shut that door, bold it and construct dry wall over it.

Okay. That decided it.

This would be the last time I said anything to Jared Thail.

I pulled out a piece of scratch paper and hastily scribbled a note.

Jared,

Heard you were ill. I haven't forgotten what you said. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I guess I just wanted to say thanks for everything you did. Especially for letting me meet Dr. Cullen. My dad used to get me stuff to read when I got sick. Thought maybe you were bored. There's a little bit of everything in here, I wasn't sure what you liked. That's it I guess.

Here I paused. Should I tell him about the gallery showing of the painting? Miss M. had come through and it would be showing tonight.

It wouldn't hurt right? It's not like he was going to come; but as he was part of the painting that was being honored, really I was obliged to tell him.

A small snaky voice in my brain intoned that I hadn't told Nina but I ignored it steadfastly. It was something to say anyway. I felt lame ending it as it was.

The painting I did of you and Nina is showing in Miss. M's gallery tonight. Just in case-well I just thought you should know.

-Kim

I hastily shoved it behind the front cover of the mystery novel and placed everything onto the seat beside me.

I droved carefully down the main road leading out of town and into the more residential parts and then paused at the tip of his street.

I was nervous.

Taking a deep breath, I parked across the street from his house.

I got out carefully, re-stacked the magazines in alphabetical order and then placed the book neatly on top.

The edges were all line up and I had nothing else to do.

I walked forward and then knocked on his door.

Nothing.

I knocked a little louder and hurried footsteps resonated out.

A tired woman in her late forties opened the door. Her eyes were the exact same shape and color as Jared's.

"Hi."

"Hi, dear. What can I do for you?" She reached up to push the hair out of her eyes and I saw the ephemeral glint of her medical tag. It must be his mother.

"I, uh, my name is Kim. I'm a friend of Jared's from school?" There was no sense of recognition on her face and I felt my heart sink a little. She had no idea who I was.

"Anyway, I heard he was sick and I just wanted to drop these off so…" I trailed off, casting about for something else to say but nothing came to mind.

I just shoved the magazines and book forward and she took them with a small smile on her face.

"I see." She didn't say anything else. I twisted my hands together in front of me. And then I untwisted them.

"I just wanted to see if he was feeling better."

"Of course."

"I guess I'll go then." I said, feeling incredibly awkward.

She just nodded.

"Bye." I muttered before hastily stepping away from their porch and back towards my car. But then she called out my name and I whipped around in surprise.

"My son says you paint very well." She continued before smiling warmly at me. "Thank you," she held up the books, "I'll make sure he gets these."

She offered a small wave and then shut the door before I could say anything else.

I was dumbfounded.

Warmth spread through my face, and I felt my mouth pull into a smile.

The curtains in a window upstairs ruffled lightly, drawing my attention upwards. On a whim, I raised my fingers to wave and then put them behind my neck, feeling foolish. I rubbed the skin there before looking up again; but there was no further movement.

My car was still warm when I sat back down, attesting to the brevity of the conversation I had had with his mother. But I felt lighter.

The sun was at it's apex and it would be heading down to the horizon again soon and I still had to get ready for the opening.

I pulled away from the curb, glancing at the house in my rear view mirror. Some small part of me desperately hoped for a glimpse of him through the curtain that had shifted earlier.

But it didn't move again.