Chapter Text
Six years.
It had been six years since she went “missing”.
Since she “died”.
Her face was no longer on posters around town, neither was in milk cartons.
People had stopped saying “I’m sorry”, “You’ll find her” and “She’ll come back” to Cassandra.
Bella Goth was no longer a missing woman, but a myth and to some, a body.
Everyone had something to say: Daniel Pleasant thought that she was murdered by the husband, “buried in that daunting graveyard”, Brandi Broke thought that “that pervert, Don” had something to do with it while Dirk Dreamer had his suspicions about the Caliente sisters after all “Dina Caliente had already got rid of a Bachelor family member before”. Hell, even little Lucy Burb, with her imaginative child mind had her thoughts about the case as she once said “Mrs. Goth was abducted by aliens.”
The location of the body was still a mystery. Some had theories, and some were sure, but nothing conclusive to re-open the case or make an arrest, no.
Her husband, Mortimer, had already started showing signs of Alzheimer's. He would sometimes ask his children where their mother was. They were never really sure what to say: after all, she was absent. Missing? It seemed confusing. Dead? No, that would cause him to have a breakdown. At work? He would ask when she would come back.
But she wasn’t coming back, ever again.
And that hurt.
Alexander had already gone to college. He had been accepted into the Psychology course at Sim State University. He had spent part of his late childhood years and all of his teenagehood in therapist’s offices, which in some disturbing way, he interpreted as a sign of the universe that his true calling was to become a psychologist. Cassandra thought that he had only lost himself in his mind, he was a Goth after all, and they would all lose it at some point. It was their pre-written fate.
Cassandra was not behind it. Although she hadn’t lost herself yet, she was close. The last years were tough on her. After Bella disappeared, she became the one responsible for taking care of her elderly father and her younger brother.
Her engagement to Don didn’t last, neither did her relationship with Darren.
Her career was also left in shambles, as she and her boss had “mutually agreed that her department from the research team was the best for both parties”, so there were a lot of research papers that she never finished still lingering on her old computer.
Truth is relative. That’s something she had learned from her mother from a young age. People will believe what they want to believe, they will project their convictions onto us and shove them up our faces.
And Cassandra was not an exception. She had the firm belief that Bella was not dead, but she kept it to herself.
She had shared it once with Darren, who had tried to gently tell her that she was in denial, that she had to accept the truth. Since then she had learned to not say anything, people would just think that she had gone mad.
Cassandra had searched for her mother’s name on the internet so many times. She used every single one of her aliases: “Bella Goth”, “Isabella Goth”, “Bella Bachelor”, “Isabella Bachelor”, “Bella Enriqueta Goth”, “Isabella Enriqueta Goth”, “Bella Enriqueta Bachelor Goth” and “Isabella Enriqueta Bachelor Goth” and was still left empty-handed.
Her hopes had gone up one time, as she once got the result for a “Bella E. Goth” with a phone number attached to it, but no luck. The woman who picked up was an elderly lady who lived in Appaloosa Plains who gently explained that the E. on her middle name stood for Eleanor and that she had never had children. She was kind enough to hear Cassandra’s story and even comforted her over the phone, telling her how brave she was for trying to solve this mystery on her own, and that warmed the young woman’s heart. At least some Bella was proud of her.
She had a copy of the police files at her house: not that the cops would care after all everyone thought she was dead, they were even sending emails to Cassandra asking for her permission to declare her mother “legally dead”.
She had searched every single corner of town for possible burial spots. She had dug so many holes in so many fields that she had memorized every single coordination of where her shovel had broken the ground.
Don’s house, the last place Bella was seen alive, was also a place of her search. Nothing.
It was like she had simply vanished into thin air.
Cassandra didn’t want to believe that. People don't simply stop existing without an explanation, it's impossible.
But she couldn't keep lying to herself for the rest of her life.
Bella Goth was dead.
And while it was sad to think that, it was comforting at the same time. She hoped she died quickly and felt no pain, that as she was buried, the dirt had welcomed her as a part of the earth as it consumed her body.
Maybe it was a disturbing thought, but not to her. She was a Goth after all, they dealt with their problems in unconventional, and sometimes morbid, ways.
Death was not a cruel ending, but a warm hug given by an old friend that we hadn't seen in a while.
Although she had been raised religiously, Cassandra struggled with her faith and her relationship with God, but the thought of her mother being reunited with her parents and her brother, Michael, in Heaven, if such a place even existed, was enough to make her doubts go away. It was something that comforted her heart.
She was not coming back because she was dead, and somehow, that was what helped Cassandra sleep at night.
Her recent realization had changed everything.
“I can't keep living like this.” She whispered to herself one evening, as she was once again searching her mother’s closet, filled with only red dresses.
She may never know where Bella was buried, but she could bury her as much as she could.
She donated Bella’s clothes, sold her jewelry, and threw her shoes in the trash. Gone.
The portrait Mortimer painted of her was taken off the wall and hidden behind the closet. Gone.
She took down every photo of them as a family, keeping only the ones posterior to her disappearance. Gone.
Gone from Cassandra's life and, hopefully, gone from her mind after enough time had passed.
Some months passed and the thought of her mother’s whereabouts became less obsessive and eventually turned into something that would only haunt her from time to time.
It was for the best. Letting her go was the right thing to do.
As accepting her mother's death was starting to become easier to deal with, Cassandra's newfound peace was disturbed.
An anonymous email popped up in her inbox.
An anonymous email titled “Laura” with 3 photos attached to it and with the sentence “You deserve to know the truth” written in the body of the text. No signature, no additional context, just that.
The truth.
Cassandra opened the photos and as much as she didn't want to believe, it was real.
The only thing that kept her going for years was the now-dead belief that Bella would, someday, come back.
But she wasn’t coming back.
Not because she was dead, gone, or buried in some hole somewhere.
But because she had run away.
Bella Goth had purposely left her family and started a new life somewhere.
It was a surprise to Cassandra when she saw her mother alive and well in photos that were taken.
The first photo was just a photo of Bella pointing to a sign that read “Twikkii Beach Hotel”, with a smile so wide that it probably had left her cheek muscles hurting.
Cassandra remembered her mother expressing interest in visiting Twikkii Island, something that her father just shrugged off saying that it would be a waste of time and that he would rather just stay home.
The second photo was of Bella with a baby girl. She had her mother's olive skin and dark black hair, the Bachelor genes were known for being strong.
The toddler had her arms around her mother's neck as she expressed her love for her, being corresponded with a loving gaze.
The last photo, dated March 2008, featured Bella and who Cassandra had assumed was her new husband, her stepchildren, and the little girl from the previous photo.
She held her child in her arms. The husband stood on the right side, with his hand on her back.
The other kids, in their early twenties, stood with them, smiling like their baby sister and their stepmother.
The father was the only one with a straight face. He wore a dark green polo shirt and a pair of black jeans. On his neck, was a dog tag.
He is probably in the military, Cassandra figured.
Cassandra zoomed in on the older man's neck, and while the photo didn't have the highest definition, she was still able to see his name.
Buzz Grunt.
After six years of being left in the dark, she had a clue, a name.
With her hands shaking, she opened her search browser and typed his name down.
An obituary came up, not his, but for his ex-wife. Lyla Grunt had passed away eleven years ago, being survived by her ex-husband Buzz, and her three sons, Tank, Ripp, and Buck.
It made sense, but it didn’t make sense to Cassandra.
Still tense about her previous discovery, she searched for their names, finding only two results: Ripp Grunt’s social media account and a White Pages link that registered the Grunt's household phone number, both featuring Strangetown as its location.
Ripp’s profile was, for Cassandra’s luck, public. He would post about things that young adults would normally post: music, their friends, parties, nothing out of the ordinary. However, one post caught her eye.
“ So glad my dad stopped being a full-blown asshole after marrying my stepmom .” Ripp wrote in October of 2006.
The post only had one comment, made by some girl named Ophelia: “Laura's the best.”
Laura.
The same name that was written on the e-mail.
Bella Goth was now Laura.
Cassandra stood up from her desk and ran for the kitchen, grabbing the phone and dialing the phone number that was on the website.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Grunt house, Tank speaking.” A male voice picked up from the other side of the line.
“Hello…hm…hi. I’m looking for…” Bella. “Laura, any chance she’s there?”
“She is. Do you want to speak to her?”
So she was there. She was alive.
“Yes! I need to speak to her.”
“One moment, I’m gonna get her.”
That moment felt like forever, which Cassandra thought was funny. She waited six years for an answer to her mystery, but waiting for Tank to pass the phone to his stepmother was where she drew the line. She wasn’t up for waiting anymore.
“Hi there, Laura here.” Her soft tone hadn’t changed a bit.
And then she froze, uncertain of what to say. What are people supposed to say to someone who is allegedly dead?
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Bella…Laura said. “Hello?”
A million thoughts were racing through her mind. Should she yell? Should she tell her that she misses her? Should she ask how she is? Should she…
“Is this from the cable company? My husband already told you, we are not interested in upgrading our package until you guys give us a good deal...”
“No!” Is the only thing Cassandra can spit out, desperately. “No…I am not from the cable company.”
So the Grunts had cable TV, good to know. Was her mother an avid watcher? Mortimer was always so adamant on how television would distract her and Alexander’s studies, that he never let them buy one, much against his wife’s pleas.
“Oh, who is this then?” Laura questioned, confusion seeping through her voice.
“I think you may have an idea.”
“Jenny? Is it you? Oh my god, did Buzz try to kidnap PT9 again? I’m so sorry, I’m gonna speak to him. I can't believe he's still acting out!"
“What…?” Now it was Cassandra’s turn to be confused. “Why is your husband trying to kidnap some man?”
“You’re not Jenny.” Laura realized quickly. “Just…ignore that last part.”
“Yeah, I’m not.”
Cassandra sighed, building the courage to tell her what needed to be said.
“It's me, mom. It’s Cassandra.”
It felt like the world was caving in on her. After six years, she was speaking to her mother, calling her “mom” again. For a second, it felt like everything was right again.
The woman on the other end of the call stayed silent, her breathing getting heavy. Was it fear? Disbelief? Relief?
“Mom?” Cassandra muttered, this time less confident. “Mom, answer me.”
“Don’t call again.”
Laura finally spoke as she hung up the phone.
Bella Goth was alive and was now Laura Grunt.
And she had hung up on her daughter’s face.
___________________________________________________________________________
Laura stood still, with the phone in her hand.
She had been found.
“Who was it?” Tank asked, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed. “I’ve never seen you so scared before, Laura.”
"Some woman wanted to sell me perfumes. Nothing to worry about, darling. And I'm not scared.” She stated, putting the phone back in its place. “Maybe we should change our house number, I think it may have been put on those lists scammers use to try to get you into those multi-level marketing schemes.”
“Well, that sucks.” He replied, pretending to believe her blatant lie.
“I’m going to talk to your father about it. If she calls again, do not pick up.”
Laura ordered as she went looking for her husband, leaving Tank alone. Whatever that woman said, clearly left his stepmother distraught.
“God…for someone who has spent years pretending to be someone else, you’re not a good liar, Bella.” He whispered to himself, grinning.
He was glad his email had reached its destination.