Sally's Novels

  Mike and Rachel watched as Sam paced back and forth, his steps restless and uneven. “Sam, you need to rest,” Rachel said gently, her voice filled with concern. “We’re in all this because of Jason,” Sam shot back, his eyes blazing with anger. “Our parents are probably searching everywhere for us right now—school too. Jason must pay for this. Even if it’s the last thing I do, he will be brought to justice.” “I agree,” Rachel replied calmly, trying to soothe his frayed nerves. “But you need to calm down. That’s exactly what we’re working on.” She hesitated, then continued, “I have to go back home. I can gather more information—and I’ll drop by your house to check on your parents.” Sam’s eyes met hers, his expression pleading. “Please, gather all the information you can. Tell my parents I’m fine… and that I’ll be home soon.” Rachel nodded, determination shining in her eyes. She hugged them both, her eyes glistening with tears as she whispered in Sam’s ear, “I miss you. Bu...

The hours ticked by at a glacial pace. Jane sat in the living room, her eyes fixed on the clock, confusion and worry etched across her face. “Still no word from Sam?” she asked, her voice trembling with desperation. Mr. Harold shook his head, his expression somber. “Nothing.” Each passing moment deepened the family’s despair. Every door they knocked on, every phone call they made, every inquiry they pursued — all led to the same painful dead end. “Something has happened to my baby,” Jane whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. Mr. Harold pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, trying to offer a semblance of comfort. “We’ll find him,” he said firmly, though his voice carried the weight of uncertainty. “I promise.” As the days crept by, the uncertainty became suffocating. The not knowing gnawed at their hearts. Would they ever see Sam again? One afternoon, Jane walked into Sam’s room. The air was still, his scent faint but familiar. She began tidying up, her trem...

The evening was calm at the Harold’s’ residence. Mr. Harold sat comfortably on the couch, watching his favorite show on television. Denise paced restlessly around the living room, while Jane sat at the dining table, engrossed in learning a new recipe from her cookbook. The peaceful atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by the sharp ringing of the phone. Jane, with her usual warm and welcoming tone, answered. “Hello, Harold’s residence. How may I help you?” The voice on the other end was familiar, yet carried a hint of concern. “Hello, Mrs. Harold. This is Principal Peterson from Dartmond High School.” Jane’s expression shifted. She glanced at her husband, puzzled as to why the principal would be calling. “Oh—hello, Principal Peterson,” she said quickly. “We’ve noticed Sam has been absent from school for quite some time,” the principal said, his tone laced with a mix of worry and suspicion. “We wanted to know if there’s a particular reason for that.” Mr. Harold immediately muted the telev...

  Sam and Mike left the following morning, driving until the city lights fell away and the road thinned to a single ribbon through the trees. The GPS guided them the last few miles; the cabin sat far from town, a squat shape in a clearing, swallowed by darkness. The night outside mirrored the unease in their hearts. They stocked extra fuel for the generator, enough for phones and a lamp to push back the dark. On the way in, Sam’s phone buzzed. A text from Jason: “You think you can run away from me? I’ll find you both. Trust me.” Sam’s grip tightened around the phone. “J’s not letting go,” he muttered. Mike’s face hardened. “Then we’ll have to make him let go.” The cabin felt colder than the air outside. They lit the generator, sat at a rickety table, and ate in silence. Every spoonful tasted like guilt and adrenaline; each creak of the house made Sam flinch. Mike woke first the next morning and started a small fire. The cabin filled with the weak, steady smell of coffee. Sam joined...