Angie and I were sitting on the living room couch and staring blankly at the TV when the phone rang.

For a moment, neither of us moved. We just looked down at the phone and then at each other, apprehensive expressions crossing our faces. It was them. I knew it was. The police were calling—finally—with news. But what kind of news were they about to bear?

I hoped to God it was good news. Or at least okay news. I just needed to know if my sister was alive. That was all I asked for.

Angie and I shared a final look before I grabbed the phone, pressed the Call button, and brought the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I murmured.

"Skylar?"

I froze, and for a moment, I couldn't speak. The tears I'd been struggling all night to contain sprang to my eyes, but this time I didn't bother fighting them back. "Serenity?" I breathed.

Serenity was calling.

Serenity was calling.

All of the horrifying questions that had been circulating through my mind the entire night became obsolete, and suddenly the grotesque images of my sister having been mauled to death faded away. My little sister was alive. She was alive!

Angie sat up straighter then, her eyes wide. "Serenity?" She paused, a hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my god—is that—is that her?"

I nodded, and before I knew it I was standing, a bright smile bursting onto my lips as a few ecstatic tears dribbled down my cheeks. "Serenity—oh my god—Serenity," I said, my words jumbled and pretty much incomprehensible—just like my brain. In that moment, I could honestly say that it was nearly impossible to function. "Did they—are you—?"

As I struggled to form a coherent sentence, Angie sprang from the couch and made a dash for our parents' bedroom. "Mom!" she cried. Even without seeing her face, I knew she was wearing an identical smile to mine. It was clear in her voice. "Mom, Dad! Come here! Mom, Dad!"

"I'm okay," Serenity murmured as Angie disappeared from my line of sight. She let out a long breath of air, like it was a huge relief to say the words aloud. And I had no doubt that it was. "The police are here, and they're bringing us to the hospital."

I turned to face living room mantel, where photographs of the entire family sat. My eyes locked on the one of Serenity. I wanted to ask her who "us" was, but knew that now wasn't the time to do so. "Where are you now?" I asked instead.

"I'm not sure, exactly," she replied. "We escaped and then stopped at the first house we found. But we're heading to St. Peters Hospital now." She paused to murmur something about wanting to be in the ambulance with someone before continuing. "I missed you so much," she said softly.

"I missed you too," I whispered. "Thank God you're okay."

"I did," Serenity replied. "I have to go, but tell everyone I love them, okay?"

"I will." My smile grew. "See you soon."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I hung up just as my parents came running, their eyes wider than I'd ever seen them. Tears streamed down my mom's face as she waited for me to confirm what Angie just told them—to tell her that yes, Serenity was alive. She hadn't lost a daughter tonight. Everything was going to be okay.

And I gladly did so. "Serenity's okay," I said. "She's on her way to St. Peters Hospital now."

My mom, clutching my dad's arm with one hand, brought the other to her mouth, a broad smile sneaking out from underneath. Through a voice as watery as her eyes, she said, "She's okay."

I nodded. "She's okay."

For a moment, no one said anything as my mom and dad pulled each other into a swift but tight embrace. I watched, resisting the urge to bounce on my feet and glance impatiently toward the front door. Serenity was out there right now, waiting for us. All I wanted to do was get into the car so we could bring her home. But my parents needed this moment.

"Ang," my dad said, pulling away from his wife and wiping at his eyes. "Go wake up Tommy, okay?" He smiled. "Tell him Serenity's coming home."

Angie was gone in an instant, running to Tommy's room. I had no doubt Tommy was already awake. He wasn't a deep sleeper, and Angie hadn't exactly been quiet earlier. He was probably just too afraid to come out, not wanting to chance overhearing that Serenity was gone for good.

But she wasn't.

That thought had me beaming so largely my mouth hurt.

Soon enough, Tommy and Angie were in the living room, and my mom and dad led the way out of the house. We all ran to the car, Tommy, Angie, and I clutching our shoes in our hands, and threw ourselves into our respective seats. We barely had time to close the doors before my dad started the car and pulled out of the driveway, speeding down the street, in the direction of St. Peters Hospital.

Tugging my shoes onto my feet, I had only one thought in mind: We're coming, Serenity. We're coming.