The plan
Chapter 2
POV Stella
The hostage situation at a hospital in DC had blown up in the media, and everyone around me was talking about it the next day. It wasn’t surprising, nothing interesting ever happened in our little suburban shithole, so we had to take whatever we could get. Five people had died and even our teachers talked to us about it.
When I got home-, or back to the house since it really didn’t feel like home, another press conference was playing on the TV. A couple kids were hanging out on the sofa, so I hung back, watching it quietly from the doorway. There was the dark haired FBI woman again, answering questions along with the blonde and another man, a younger one this time. She spoke so calmly, so put together and yet with so much empathy. She was so cool, they all were. On a banner rolling across the screen it read ‘The FBI’s Behavioral analysis unit answers questions from the public’. What did that even mean? Out of pure curiosity, I pulled up my phone to search it up as I ascended the stairs to my bedroom which was thankfully empty.
Flopping on the bed, I read about the department, apparently they found serial killers based on psychological patterns. That is so badass. I clicked back to look at the other results, stumbling across different interviews through the years, mostly with the blonde, scrolling until I found something interesting. Then I saw an interview from just a few months ago, with the same brunette woman, the title read ‘SSA Emily Prentiss talks about small town murders’
Emily
I’d always had an invisible tie to that name. I tried to be friends with a really nice girl named that in middle school, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about my birth mother. It was always a mix of intrigue, longing and a grief that I couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it triggered something about the fact I’d never get to meet my Emily, the real one.
My fingers moved on their own accord as I curiously typed her name into my search bar. Wow, she was only 30 and already seemed so experienced? To my surprise, I found a Wikipedia page, thought it didn’t contain much, just some basic info on her current position in the FBI, and surface level personal information.
There were also more photos and links to more videos and press conferences. I slowly scrolled through the photos, my mind subconsciously looking for things that weren’t there, I’d done it before, spiraled in false hope that inevitably landed in disappointment and embarrassment. I knew I would scold myself for even thinking such a ridiculous thought to begin with, but I couldn’t stop myself. When I found a particularly close up photo of just her face, my heart jumped. She looked so much like me. I took a deep breath, telling myself I was being crazy again, the constant searching had broken my heart before. Still, there was something about this woman that intrigued me, and wether I was being delusional or not, I wanted to know more about her.
Apparently, she was the daughter of some ambassador lady. ‘Nepo baby’ I couldn’t help myself from thinking, but not in a dismissive way, I just found it kind of surprising since she really didn’t seem like the type. I couldn’t find any social media, so eventually I reverted back to the Wikipedia page. Then I saw her age again, 30… I was 15, and my mom had been 15 when I was born. Now, I was bad at math but that was not a hard equation to solve. I forced myself to take a steadying breath and think rationally.
What were even the chances? Out of 8 billion people on the planet and 340 million in the US alone, there was no way. I almost scoffed at how easily I let myself hope, that’s until I found another page about her past. Once again, it was only surface level, but when I read the words ‘SSA Prentiss spent a good deal of her teen years living in Rome, Italy, until she eventually moved back to the states at 15’ my heart dropped.
There was no way. With shaky hands, I pulled out the box and carefully, but quickly opened the letter, skimming it at least 10 times to make sure it all lined up. And it did. All of it lined up. Her age, her name, Italy, moving here at 15, the year I was born. Not to mention the undeniable resemblance. Our hair color was the same, eye color, complexion, though my skin was a tad less pale and the bridge of my nose was painted with freckles. The sharpness of her jaw… the nose. It was almost the same, mine was slightly smaller, but it had the same angle and shape, the same sharpness. I saw a picture of her holding something and noted the chewed down fingernails, letting out a curt laugh of disbelief as I looked down at my own, short and broken from years of nervous habit.
I couldn’t be sure, there was no way to know for certain, but I had to find out. I was going to get out of her anyway, this could be my one chance to ever have a family and I needed to take it, even if it was all for nothing. I had nothing to lose, the worst that could happen is they send me right back here, so I had to go. I dug up my wallet to see how much money I had, 40 bucks. That would be enough for a bus ticket to DC and a train ticket from DC to Quantico, where the FBI headquarters were. If this all went to shit, it could leave me stranded out there with barely enough money for food, but I’d survived worse, and like I said, I had nothing to lose.
***
I spent the next couple days planning. I figured it would be easiest to just sneak away to the bus station immediately after school, so on Wednesday morning, I packed my bag. Deciding to leave my trunk behind, I managed to fit almost all my clothes in backpack. Like I’ve said, there wasn’t a whole lot of them. I had to leave behind my pair of worn winter boots, which I wouldn’t need for at least six months anyway. Otherwise, my phone, charger and the box all fit too, and I carried the school books in my arms. Nobody really seemed to notice how over full my backpack was, and when I got to school, I simply stuffed it in my locker.
“Hey! Morning, you okay?” Harped yelled, but chilled a little when she saw my thoughtful face.
“Yeah… I have to talk to you about something. I’m leaving” I said, scared she was going to object.
“What? Where? Why?” She stuttered, looking confused.
“I umm.. I found this woman who might be my birth mom, I mean I’m probably wrong, but I have to know… I have to talk to her, so I’m going to DC” I rambled.
“What?! Seriously? That’s amazing! But are you sure about this? CPS will be all over you, and what do you know about this woman? What if she’s like a serial killer or something?”
“For some reason, I highly doubt that” I laughed. “But yes, I’m sure, and I’ll try to keep my phone charged so we can talk. But I need you to promise me you won’t tell anybody, not until I find her, I need to do this” I said, holding up my pinky finger.
“I promise”
***
As soon as the last bell rang, I stuffed the school books into my locker-, I certainly wouldn’t need them, and grabbed my bag. As I exited the building, the air felt different, freeing. Knowing I wasn’t going back to my sad corner in that rowdy house was like a huge stone lifted off my chest. The town wasn’t very big, and I only had to walk ten minutes to the town center and bus central. I walked up to the window and bought a one way ticket for a direct bus that left in twenty minutes. That was lucky timing, just enough time to get something to eat.
I strolled to the kiosk in the station and counted how much money I could spend. I started with 40, the bus ticket was 8 dollars and from what I’d gathered online, the train was 15. I decided to get a sandwich and a bottle of water, wanting to save some money.
The bus was fairly empty, leaving me to mull over my thoughts in silence. I leaned my head back and looked out the window at the highway exits coming and going. My fingers picked nervously at the feathered edges of my black, ripped knee jeans. They had been all the rage when I got them a year ago, but I didn’t have the privilege of going shopping every time the trends shifted, neither did I care too much. My converse were old and dirty, but I didn’t even want new ones until the sole was literally gone. They were comfortable, and they had little written quotes and doodles that me and Harper had drawn on them.
Using only google maps and what little hope I had left in me, I navigated the busy stations, eventually making it on a train at 5pm, which meant I would be in Quantico by dinner time. I could only hope they hadn’t all gone home, they probably had though, and I mentally prepared myself for a night in the cold or in the corner of some train station. I pulled my jacket a little tighter around me at the thought and sank into the train seat.
What would I even said if I found her? Shit, I hadn’t even thought about it, I’m so stupid. Showing up at her work and going ‘Hey woman I’ve never met, I saw you on TV and now I think you might be my mom’ yeah, cause that conversation would go over great. Fuck, I was basically ambushing this random lady at her work. But I didn’t have any other options, I searched the whole internet for an address and came up empty. Obviously, they wouldn’t share an FBI agent’s home address to the public.
Before I knew it, the train had come to a stop, announcing my destination as I grabbed my bag and jumped off. With google maps in hand and directions from people I passed, I eventually stood in front of a large, cement building, probably ten floors tall. It towered over me, making me impossibly smaller than I already was. Lifting my feet before they rooted in the ground, I walked through the main entrance.