The next morning I woke up on the couch with a stiff neck and the taste of stale coffee I had last night in my mouth. Sunlight cut through the living room curtains. My laptop sat open on the table, screen still glowing. I blinked hard. It hadn’t gone to sleep. The video editing software was still up, the timeline frozen on one of the darker frames I’d kept, the one where I looked terrified.
My stomach dropped. I slammed the lid shut and looked around like Ryan might jump out from behind the couch. The house was quiet. Too quiet. I quickly stood up, rubbing my arms. Has Ryan seen it before going to work?
I took the stairs two at a time. The bedroom door creaked when I pushed it open. The bed was empty, sheets thrown back like he’d left in a hurry. My mouth went dry.
“Ryan?” My voice came
