Tracking movements
For days, I tracked Eliza’s movements, desperately trying to piece together her life outside the hospital. At night, I scoured through her digital footprints—emails, social media profiles, and online transactions. The more I uncovered, the clearer it became: Eliza was leading a double life. Sleep became a luxury I couldn’t afford; every waking moment was consumed with connecting the dots. I was becoming obsessed, driven by the need to uncover the truth, no matter what it took.
Tracking Movements
Sketchy neighborhood
My search led me to a seedy part of town, a place no one with better options would ever willingly visit. Eliza had been spotted there multiple times, usually late at night. The dimly-lit streets, broken streetlights, and shady figures lurking around made it clear—this was no place for my sister. As I surveyed the area, a sense of dread gnawed at me. What was Eliza doing here? She was hiding something, and it was bigger, more dangerous, than I had ever imagined.
Sketchy Neighborhood
