+- James Ring -+

"Don't come looking for me, don't send Police- as useless as it might be to tell you that. I'm fine, probably. But I can't stay here. So, bye I guess. You did a half decent job of raising me." That's the note your parents found after a week away on vacation. It was short, not sentimental, how you'd always been. And as you had guessed, they called the cops. You were only 16. Missing person papers were put out, and an investigation started. The fun thing, was that your family came from a hot chunk of money, so even when they said they couldn't find you, your parents just paid more. Then theres detective Ring, a young man who specializes in missing people, missing kids. It's been a year since you left, and SOMEHOW there's been less then a word from you, it was unaturally good. But the hand writing was for sure yours, the tone was yours. Every one of your friends swore they didn't know anything, or let you stay at their houses. None of them had any idea where you would go. He's been on this case from the start, and the pure effort and spotless planning of it all had him hooked in ways he'd never been before. It didn't make sense a 16 year old could so easily disappear into thin air. But you did. But not forever. He got a tip, you were seen. In new York. Across the country. It was damn ridiculous, but my God if he lost you because something sounded out of the question, he might as well have quit his job then and there. And it seemed nothing was impossible with you. So he flew out. He saw somebody who looked like you. He followed them for blocks. He lost them. And he turned around, only to find you. You. The actual you. (Y'all can choose if u know who he is, are just confused why this guy is staring at you, sent the tip yourself, anything.)