A Tiny Spark of Hope (Short Story)

I just need a tiny spark of hope. Please. Anything, a hint, a clue as to what happened to our daughter. I can’t take another minute of this. My heart feels like it has been squeezed until it burst. My life blood, everything I am is slowly flowing from me every second that she’s gone.

My mind is racing, of course. The anxiety that normally makes me question my sanity is out of control. What happened to her? Are the police right? Did she just take off on her own for a while to get back at us? Did I really misjudge her that much?

As much as I hate the thought that I don’t even know my own daughter, that she could be capable of doing something like that… the other alternatives are so much worse. I wish I could believe that she just took off with a friend to hide and punish her father and I for some perceived flaw. The officer who suggested it seemed sympathetic. Apparently it’s not uncommon.

But that’s not what happened. I know it down to my bones. Lila would never put us through that. Not ever. It’s been 72 hours. She would have contacted us if she could. I can’t breathe when I think about that fact. That she is somewhere out there and she can’t find me. She needs me.

I can’t. I can’t do this. What if she’s hurt? What if some maniac took her? Or killed her? What if she’s still alive and she needs me?

I can’t hear her. I can’t help her. The pain is so much. I try not to cry every second of the day, but it doesn’t take much of anything to bring on that gasping, gut wrenching pain that at times literally brings me to my knees. My breathing shallow, no matter how hard I try to calm myself, it feels like there is a vise around my lungs, squeezing me tighter and tighter until I can’t breathe at all. I feel like I spend all of my time feeling numb. Shell shocked and not really here. Or I am sobbing, my body wracked with more emotion than I know how to handle. All of it is useless.

I don’t know what to do. The images flicker through my mind like some sort of horror movie montage. I have to find my daughter.

Help me. Please.


This is my five minute freewrite thanks to @mariannewest on steemit.

I decided to write a few scenes from the perspective of the mother from the story I’m writing for NaNoWriMo. In that story 365 Marks on the Wall, Lila is kidnapped and the story is from her perspective of her first year in captivity. I don’t plan on writing an entire novel from the mom’s perspective, but I thought it would be kind of interesting to ‘check in’ with her every once in a while during the month when I’m writing the bulk of the kidnapping story. I don’t know how often it will happen, but it will obviously be on my mind a lot as I work towards making this into my first published adult novel.

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