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“ W here the fuck you at, baby?” I called Merci phone again hoping the voicemail wouldn’t pick up.

For three days, Blessyn and I called and tried to see if she was seen at any of the airports.

Blessyn had her location on her phone, but it was said not available.

My stomach was so fucked up that I spent all my time in the bathroom.

I told her ass not to go on that trip. She wouldn’t tell anyone where she was going so, we didn’t know where to start.

As I sat on the sofa, I went through her pictures she posted to see if I knew any of her backgrounds.

She made sure to keep the background out of all her pictures.

I screen recorded one of her videos of her but even in that, I couldn’t tell where she was.

My daughter walked up to me and crawled into my lap, laying her head on my chest. Since Merci been gone, we both been a little down. Especially my daughter.

“What is that in your hand?”

I opened her hand to see a confirmation number.

Sliding my daughter off my lap, I called Blessyn to come to my spot so she could look into it.

Blessyn wasn’t in the best mood either since her and my brother was on bad terms. That didn’t stop her from talking to that nigga Capone though.

He helped her move all her shit into her studio and all.

I tried to help but she shut my ass out.

Blessyn got there and snatched the paper out of my hand. I balanced my nephew in one arm and my daughter in the other arm. She pulled her phone out and typed the numbers in.

“This is a flight to California. It’s not telling me when though. I’m sure it’s her recent flight though. She really hadn’t gone anywhere else since she got pregnant. Do you have any idea who the fuck she was talking to?”

“You know damn well she didn’t tell me shit. She promised me she wasn’t going.”

“We need to sit down and go through her IG followers. It gotta be someone from here that got her ass out in Cali. This ain’t like Merci. She does her thing but she always communicates.”

“Do you have any idea how many followers your sister has? We’ll be here all day.”

“Do you think you know her password? An email or anything?”

“Why you asking me all this shit and she’s your sister.”

“The last thing we need to do is get upset with one another. We are both stressed out and my mama is losing her shit. I say we put out a missing person's report and go from there. I’ll spend the rest of my day going through people she follows instead of her followers. If my son lets me, I’ll try to break into her account as well. ”

“What am I going to do if something happened to her? She’s hardheaded as fuck, man. She promised me she wasn’t going. What the fuck I gotta do to get her to understand all money ain’t good? I give her everything she fuckin’ wants and more. She greedy as fuck.”

Blessyn came and grabbed the kids from me and took them in the room.

Deep down in my heart I felt like something bad was going on.

So many niggas were coming for us, and we didn’t know who we could trust. That was my main reason for getting out and trying to get my family back.

Merci thought everyone loved her and now I had a feeling she got herself in some shit and it was too late for me to help.

“I’m taking the kids with me. I need you to get some rest so you can think clearly.

If your brother talks to me today, I’ll send him over here to check on you.

I’ll make the police report and see if they could check into the flights for me.

I don’t have a good feeling but all we can do is try to see if we can locate her.

Before you move on anything please talk to me first.”

I locked the door behind her and flopped my ass on my sofa with my phone on my chest. All I wanted was her to call and breath in the phone so I would know she was alive.

It didn’t matter how much she pissed me off she was the only muthafucka I ever loved, and I’ll go to hell about her.

Picking my phone up, I went to her Instagram and went through her pictures.

I never went through her comments and shit but today I was going to comb through them muthafuckas until I figured out which nigga had my baby not wanting to pick up the phone.

The first ten pictures on her profile didn’t have any niggas in the comments.

Well, it did but when I clicked on their profile, them niggas ain’t have no money.

I gave up looking and dialed her number.

This time it didn’t go to voicemail. Someone picked the phone up.

I shot up from the sofa and fumbled with the phone.

“Merci! Merci is that you baby?”

Silence filled the phone. I listened hard as fuck just in case I heard something in the background.

“Merci say something. We all worried about you. Please say something to me so I know you okay.”

The phone went dead. I dialed it back, but it went straight to voicemail.

Vomit rushed to my mouth before I could make it to the bathroom.

I hadn’t eaten in days and if I didn’t hear something soon, I was booking a flight to California and handle the shit myself.

Fuck all that waiting around for the police and shit.

Them bitches didn’t give a fuck about a missing black woman.

Atlanta had plenty of women missing. What’s another one to them?