The night was silent when he stepped out of his room, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. He had gone from the police station to the school, from the school to neighbors, and from neighbors back to the police. Every answer he received was the same: silence, shrugs, or worse, pitying looks that felt like knives.
The world had already begun to move on.
At the police station, the officer leaned back in his chair, chewing gum, his voice laced with boredom."Are you sure she didn't just run away with some boy? These girls nowadays…"
The words burned like acid. He slammed his fist on the desk. "My sister is not that kind of girl! She's missing! She's in danger!"
But the officer only sighed, scribbled something on a paper, and waved him off. "We'll look into it. Go home."
Home? The house was an empty coffin without her.
At school, it was worse. Her classmates sat in groups, laughing, talking, scrolling through their phones. When he walked in, silence fell for a moment, then quickly dissolved back into gossip and chatter. No one asked how he was holding up. No one spoke her name. It was as if she had never existed.
The teachers, too, hid behind tired excuses."She's probably sick… or traveling…" one muttered when he pressed them.But their eyes told another story. They knew something, and they had chosen silence.
Money. Influence. The family of her captors had deep pockets. Silence was bought. Truth was buried.
Nights became his torture. He sat in her room, staring at the bed where she once slept. Her textbooks lay open, pages marked with neat handwriting. A half-finished drawing rested on the desk. Everything screamed of her presence, but the room was empty.
He whispered into the void:"I'll find you. Even if the whole world pretends you never mattered, I'll find you."
His voice cracked, but his eyes burned with fire.
Days blurred into weeks. Flyers with her picture went up on poles, walls, and shop windows. Some were torn down. Some were ignored. People walked past them as though she were a ghost. No one cared. The city had swallowed her whole, and only he was left screaming her name into its hollow streets.
He watched people laugh at restaurants, kids play ball in the park, couples hold hands. Life went on, mercilessly normal. His sister's absence was not the world's tragedy—only his.
The loneliness was unbearable.
One evening, he returned to the school, desperate for answers. The gates were locked, but he climbed them, his body moving with reckless determination. He stormed through the hallways, memories of her laughter echoing in his head. Classrooms were empty, but the walls felt alive with secrets.
In the staff room, he confronted a teacher."You knew something, didn't you? You saw them bully her. You saw the way they treated her. And now she's gone, and you're pretending nothing happened!"
The teacher's hands trembled as he adjusted his glasses. His silence was the loudest confession of all.
That silence sealed his rage.
He went home that night trembling, not from fear, but from fury. His sister's face burned in his mind — broken, terrified, crying for help. And he knew now: the world would not save her. The world had already buried her.
If she was still alive, she was counting on him.If she was dead… then someone had to pay.
His fists clenched. His jaw tightened. The storm was no longer far away. It had already taken root inside him.
In the quiet of the night, he whispered to himself, his voice low and steady, a vow carved into his very bones:
"They will all pay. Every last one of them. The ones who touched you, the ones who watched, the ones who stayed silent. If the world won't give you justice… I will."
And from that night on, he stopped being just her brother.He became a weapon.