"Invisible" by Switchblade Symphony, from Three Calamities

It is in the box where she left it, glittering faintly amid the shadows of the basement. Teena lifts the thin, golden chain with utmost delicacy, turning the jewel that dangles from it over in her hand. Samantha's birthstone glitters from the unicorn's eye, from the tip of its horn.

The necklace would have been Samantha's ninth birthday present - a child's thing - but what is Samantha now besides a child trapped in a woman's body? Samantha's thirty-fourth birthday is not until November, but what better time to give it to her? Teena closes the tiny velvet box and slowly stands.

Samantha will be asleep when she arrives, alone in that cold, sterile room. It will be past visiting hours, but no one will stop Teena on her way inside. She is a woman on a mission, and no one will stand in her way.

She will lift up her daughter's head with the same tenderness as she had shown when she lifted the necklace out of its box, squeeze the clasp shut, and take Samantha's hands in her own. The jewel on the unicorn's horn will lie against the hollow of her child's throat, casting patterns of light against the bland, lifeless walls of the room.

And then Samantha's eyes will open, focus, remember. She will sit up, and at last, Teena can welcome her home.

She is at the hospital before she realizes that she has left, walking the familiar corridor to her daughter's room. And though the staff of the institution stare, they do not prevent her from slipping inside the door, the necklace draped around her hand like a talisman.

Within an instant, Teena realizes why.

The bed is empty, the sheets immaculate. Samantha has not slept on them since the night before. The bed is empty, and so is the room.

Teena sways on her feet, leaning against the wall for support. Her daughter is gone. Again.

She wonders if the pain will be greater this time, once the shock has worn off. The time before she had been prepared. She had believed in the possibility of Samantha's return. This time, she has no such assurances.

She acts quickly, without consideration. There is no time to weigh the consequences, to question her options. She knows what she must do.

The gray voice answers, muted by the static of an old payphone. He does not sound surprised to hear from her.

"She's gone," Teena says, the panic in her voice moderated by the chill that has rapidly overtaken her. "I need you to find her."

"I see."

She does not plead any further. There is a silence. There is an understanding.

After she hangs up, Teena drops to her knees. The talisman falls from her hand, and when it hits the floor, it makes almost no sound at all.

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