My heart was pounding as I gazed at my daughter’s empty bed in her room. A week before, Amber, my beautiful thirteen-year-old daughter, had disappeared. She was freckled and had blond hair. It was the hardest thing I had ever experienced as a father. Every moment seemed to drag on forever without her, and every second was pain I couldn’t escape. I hoped that she would come back to me with the next phone call or knock on the door as the days went by slowly.

Amber wasn’t the type to run away. I am aware that all parents say that, but it is true. Amber and I had a deep and personal relationship. I was always proud of her since she was a contented and well-behaved child. The idea that she would just leave without saying anything was unimaginable. As each day passed with no trace of her, my anxiety grew more intense and gnawed at my heart. I was certain that she had experienced a horrible incident.

The Sack
The police did their part, even if it seemed like a pointless effort. Their pathetic shrugs and pitying looks did little to ease my pain, even though they assured me that they were doing everything in their power. I was desperate, alone, and totally lost.

I spotted a homeless woman searching in a dumpster nearby one evening when I was sobbing outside in desperation and anguish. When I saw what she had flung over her shoulder, my heart stopped. Amber’s backpack! She had sewn on a unicorn patch, which I recognized as belonging to her.