When I turned 18 and moved off to college, I promised myself to never return home.

I know it seems dramatic. The statement is one of those adolescent eye rolls, but I didn't make some public pledge like many others do just after they dropped off at the dorms.

It was a secret and one I promised myself I'd keep.

My parents wouldn't care or call if I never came back.

They couldn't call or email.

They were old school, a euphemism for being belligerently stubborn to change.

But with some of that stubborn blood in me, I figured I had a better chance of sticking to my

promise.

Of course, I did end up coming home.

However, I hope you'll see that it was hard not to go back on my word.

After all, it's not every day the county sheriff dogs your phone like a debt collector and begs

you to drop everything to fly across the country.

I didn't even pay for my plane ticket.

The police department did.

It hardly counts as coming home. You see, the occasion was that they

found my family. Just after I left for college, my mom, dad, and sisters vanished into thin air.

They had been missing for an estimated six years, though only five were confirmed, as it took

the town the better part of a year to find out they were missing in the first place.

Honestly, I'm a little surprised it didn't take longer.

My parents were not friendly people.

They weren't particularly me and either, but they didn't have friends and didn't make small talk. They barely even spoke to me. My sisters were older and still lived at home, but by the time I was in high school, they were hardly ever around.

Ever since I left for college, there had been no trace of them either.

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