User:Letthedramakiddie

I’m writing this because people need to know. Or maybe…maybe I’m writing this to be sure when I re-read it, I don’t sound like a babbling lunatic. Maybe I’m writing it to keep some sanity. No, this is not a suicide note, this is a record. A complete recording of what happened from February 14th until February 16th, 2011. But first there are a few things you must know. My husband died of lung cancer when my daughter was just six, and she’s been distraught about it ever since. Also, I love my daughter, now seven years old, more than anything in this world. Her name is Mia, I’m Addie, and my husband’s name was Scott. You may not make much sense about a few things I will write in this recording. I probably don’t understand them myself. I don’t sleep at night because I’m too busy trying to connect pieces. Like, Why her? ''What did she do? Oh god, what did I do? Or rather…what could I have done, but didn’t do? ''

It all started that cold February night, the fourteenth. Valentine’s day. I remember sobbing beneath my warm comforter in my bed until 2:00 in the morning, clutching one of Scott’s old shirts that his cologne still clung to. I don’t know when exactly I fell asleep…but I do know when I woke up. I don’t know what was more terrifying to me, the blood curdling scream of my Mia, or the complete silence that followed. Trembling but full of adrenalin and the need to know what was hurting or frightening my baby pushed me out of bed and had me sprinting down the hall way to her bedroom door. I threw it open as fast as I could…Mia wasn’t there. “Mia?” It came out a choked whisper. I threw open her closet doors, expecting to find her crying in there like she did after her father’s funeral. My pulse thudded in my ears, my breathing picked up. “MIA!” I screamed.

No reply.

I sprinted as fast as I could down the stairs, screaming for her. “Mia! Mia, baby, this isn’t funny anymore!” I said sobbing. “You’re scaring mommy.”

After a futile 15 minute search, I finally picked up the phone. I didn’t think to dial 911. The first person I called was our family friend/ county sheriff, Rodney Bogdin. “Pick up, dammit, Rodney!” I yelled into the receiver, pacing about the house. Which seemed sinister. Like all my porcelain dolls were eyeing me down. Like they knew the irony. They knew something about this twist that I did not and they were about to watch it unfold in front of them, and it thrilled their still lives.

On the umpteenth ring, Rodney finally picked up. “hullo?” he said groggily.

“Help me! Mia is…god she…the scream and then it got quiet.” I sobbed, now collapsing to the floor in a hysterical mess.

“Adalynn? Jesus. Okay, calm down. What’s going on?”

It was a few seconds before I could find my voice. “Please come over. I need your help.” Then I shut off the phone. I pondered if Mia would’ve gone outside, but I noticed her little snow boots by the door, and her little parka. There had to be 2 inches of snow on the side walk. There were not foot prints leading out of the house or into the house. I walked all around. She was nowhere to be found.

Rodney showed up 5 minutes later, looking nothing like a sheriff and every bit like tired and grumpy individual. “Alright Addie,” he said walking through the door, sounding annoyed. “What is it?”

“Mia’s gone! I can’t find her. I put her to bed at 9, and read her a story and then I heard this god awful scream in the middle of the night, and-“ I was crying way too much for anyone to understand a word I was saying. “What if someone took her?” I said plopping on the couch and biting a throw pillow to distract my mouth from screaming.

Rodney stared at me for a while. Then he grumbled and scratched his head, sighing. “No one took your daughter.”

Was he accusing me of lying? I opened my mouth to lash out at him but he stopped me. “You don’t have a daughter. You never have.”

“Okay,” I laughed. “Come on. Where’d you hide her? Is this some kind of Valentine’s Day joke? Very funny. Now where is she?”

Rodney looked serious. “Addie…”

I laughed as I bounded up stairs. “Come on baby, you got mommy. You can come out now.” Rodney followed me. I ran down the hall way, “Ollie Ollie oxen free!” I said as I threw open the door.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">But I didn’t find my Mia in there. In fact, there was nothing in the room at even reminded me of Mia. No teddy bears, no pink flowered bed spread, no Barbie’s with tangled hair. Not even the picture of her and her father I had placed on her dresser when he had passed on because she said she liked the thought of Daddy being her Guardian angel.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I spun to Rodney. “What’d you do with her!” angry and eyes still streaming with tears.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">He didn’t answer. He just looked at his feet.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I slapped him across the face. And then I stared punching him and kicking him. He stood like a rock against my assault. Finally he grabbed my arms and pinned them to my sides and looked me right in the eyes. “Addie, you’ve been through this before. Come on, you remember.” The whole time I’m shaking and mumbling nononononono under my breath. “Yes. You made her up to cope with the loss of Scott. There has never been a Mia. In fact, the last time you called me over about your non-existent daughter, her name was Leah, and before that, there was Natalie. Do you remember?” his eyes were gentle and pleading.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I didn’t know what to say. If I said no, like I wanted to, he’d have me sent somewhere. Somewhere where I wouldn’t be able to look for Mia. Some place for the crazy people. So I just nodded slowly.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Are you sure?” he eyed me skeptically, and for a split second, I thought he could see straight through my lie. I just nodded again. “Okay. I’m going home now. Be careful.” He said, and hugged me roughly. I didn’t hug him back. And he left.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">The next day, February 15th, I woke in with my neck stiff, and a bottle of wine in my hand with my face smashed into the rug. I tried to remember last night. And when I finally recalled, a ripping agony tore through my body''. It was only a dream, I convinced myself, Gotta get up and make Mia breakfast, and I’ll keep her home from school today. '' I don’t know why I wanted to do that, maybe because I thought if she left my sight, someone would tell me she wasn’t real again. That she was a figment of my imagination. I put the bottle in the fridge, and sprinted up the stairs. “Wake up beautiful!” I called and pushed the door open. My heart sunk. It wasn’t a dream…there was no Mia. It was a blank room with boxes of stuff with stuff written on them. All of Scotts stuff. Then an Image snapped into place in my mind, her coat and boots by the door! I stumbled down the stairs again and stared at the coat rack. The only coat on there was one of my own, and no little snow boots. ''Baby tapes! ''I thought.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I ran to the video cabinet and my heart leapt in my throat when I saw a stack of 10 DVD’s, all labeled Mia, All an hour or more long. I grabbed the first one and with anxious fingers, I pried it out of the case and turned it on. There was a blue screen, and then straight static. I watched in dismay for 30 minutes. The DVD’s case said it was an hour long of Mia being born.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I called the court house and asked for them to see if they had my daughter’s birth certificate because I would like to buy a copy because I lost the original. Mia Elizabeth Hoff, born January 4th 2004? I was so numb by the time the woman told me there was no record of that name and birthday anywhere, in any state, in any world, in all the world. I hung up.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I went and grabbed the bottle of wine I had only half drained last night, and took a big sour swig.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">For the remainder of the day, and long into the night, I stared at the television, half drunk, thinking about my baby. She had beautiful long hair like me, but it was the color of her fathers, and put mine to shame. I remember how it would tangle in the wind and become a stringy mess. She always cried when I combed it out later. She had her father’s big blue eyes, and fair lashes. She had my over flowing lips, but they looked far better on her, and a hint of a lisp when she talked. How could I make all that up? How could I make up seven years of life? It was impossible. She was real!

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I was about to pass out under the thick afghan on the couch and all the sudden, the static cleared. And there was a shaky camera person walking in the woods at night. They were talking. There were two men. Deep voices. I could hear the sound of the river in the back ground. I scrambled to the floor and grabbed the DVD case. Mia 5, first day of kindergarten, 1 hr. 15 min.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Why her dude? Hasn’t she had enough problems in her life?”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Sure. That’s why we’re going to help her end it.”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">Then panted along for a while, now going up a hill. There was a rustling.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Shit man, she’s waking up. I thought you said she’d be out for hours?”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Momma?” the voice said. I squeak escaped me. It was Mia. My Mia. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Shut up girl!” The one shouted, and turned the camera towards her. For some reason, I realized this wasn’t a camera. I was seeing through the eyes of the brute in charge of this. I could see what he was seeing, what he was doing to my baby. “Make one more word and I’ll string up on this very tree. I dare you.”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I knew he was threatening her life and I should’ve been terrified, but I paused the DVD. She was there. Staring straight at me. My hands splayed across the screen as I knelt there. “It’s okay baby. Mommy’s here. Mommy’s here.” She looked so scared, and so defiant. She was hogtied and laying in a small children’s wagon. She was in the SpongeBob Pajamas I had put her in before she disappeared. They were filthy. She was bruised, I think. Or maybe it was the shadows of the night forest playing tricks on her skin. I pressed play.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Momma!” she screamed, in mid sob.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Be QUIET!!” the guy said, and buried his fist into her jaw. She lay unconscious.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">Then it cut back to static. I rewound it and kept playing the part where she said “momma?” as she woke up. I played it over and over and over. I told myself I wouldn’t call Rodney. Chances are this would disappear too, and if this was the only thing I had to remind me of her existence, I wouldn’t tell a single soul for the rest of eternity. I knew I should tell someone that my daughter was being captured by strange men. But who would know? Who would care? My daughter was gone. And everyone else thought she had never existed.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I passed out around 1 in the morning, February 16th. For some reason unexplained, I shot straight up on the couch. The static playing, the room completely dark except from what little light came from the snow on the television. I rolled over to go back to sleep when I saw in the kitchen door way, the figure of a human. No no. Not a human. Something human like. It stepped towards me, and then the light from the TV lit its face. I shrieked in horror.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Mommy, it’s okay.” She said. Her voice. It had changed. It was the same, but there was an underlying demonic undertone. High and low, a squeak and a growl. Both Human and not…

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">Mia was still in her SpongeBob pj’s, but they were caked with mud and dried streaks of crimson blood and a big gash in the front where her stomach had a deep cut, oozing green puss and blood. Her feet were a bloody mess, staining the carpet where she stood. She began to walk closer. Chunks of hair were missing from her head, and in their place were bloody scabs. But not only was she wounded, there were other things. Things I can’t explain. Like the torn black wings that expanded from her back, jagged at the bottoms, and high points at the top. Her eyes weren’t blue, they were solid black orbs set in her skull. Her teeth were razor sharp. Her finger nails were long and black. More like claws than nails. But that didn’t stop me from crawling on my hands and knees towards her. “Mia…” I choked out. The closer I got the more she smelt like smoke from a fire, wet earth, and decomposing flesh.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Mommy,” she said. “I know I look scary right now. But I won’t look like this all the time. They’re going to fix me up there.” She said, pointing on claw to the ceiling. Towards God. “He let me stop to say goodbye before we go.”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Who did baby?” I said caressing her cheek, tears streaming down my face.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Daddy. He can’t wait for you to join us mommy. He told me to tell you he still loves you like a rainy night.” She said smiling with her shark teeth, but it didn’t frighten me.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I chuckled through my tears. “I love you so much, Mia. And I love your Daddy too. Make sure you tell him that.” I said, busying my hands brushing dirt off of her. “Can you tell me something? Who took you?”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">She shook her head. “You’ll find out soon.” And then she turned around, and walked out. She paused “I got them mommy.” She turned and said with a smile. “But they got me first, but I made sure I got them both.” Then she turned back and that’s when I saw the exit wound of a bullet that had burst through her skull, tainting the entire back of her head with brain matter and gore. Her figure began to fade.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“No! No, don’t go! I love you!” but it was too late. She had vanished. And I was alone, and suddenly…very tired.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I woke up the next day to the shrill ring of the phone. I picked it up and mumbled a hello.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Addie! I need you to come down to the station. This is…very important.” It was Rodney. He said with urgency, but it was filled with sadness.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I sat straight up. “What’s wrong? Is Liza hurt?” I said, asking about his wife.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Liza? What the hell? No, Addie! It’s Mia…” and his voice dropped off. Or maybe that’s when I dropped the phone. Because that’s when I realized what was on the television. Me, crying as Scott, being so sick and skinny from the cancer, lead Mia to the bus stop. She was waving at me. She was smiling. She was normal. She was beautiful and radiant. She was healthy. Nothing like she looked last night.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“She’s dead, Rodney.” I said.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">His end was silent for a while. “How do you know?”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">She opened her mouth to tell him and shut it quickly. “Nothing. Just a guess.” I hung up the phone.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I sat on the couch, turned on the TV and flipped on the local news. And what do you know; my daughters face is plastered up there. “Amber Alert” it said. I waited. Waited. If Rodney knew she was dead, then it wouldn’t be long until they called of the search. They had found her, just not alive.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">An hour later, a woman with a grim face full of makeup and perfect straight blonde hair said. “Breaking news on the Mia Hoff Amber Alert, to you Chet.”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">The man named Chet stood on the outside edge of the forest. Yellow caution tape lined the forest and squad cars and ambulances galore were there. “Thanks Melanie. A gruesome discovery was made today, at 7:18 A.M. this morning, 10 miles out of Richmond, Virginia, the bodies of little Mia and both of captors were discovered. Police say it looked like Little Mia put up a fight. After suffering a severe stab wound to the intestines, she fought for at least 20 minutes and managed to plunge a knife into one of men’s, 24 year old David Dean’s to be exact, throat. They say the other man got a hold of her and put the gun in her mouth, and she died instantly. 5 miles away, the other captor that escaped, Vincent Delsignore was found mulled to death by some form of…wild animal. There are not really sure which because even in the snow, the only foot prints that were there were human and distinctly made my Vincent himself. Back to you, Melanie.”

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">“Thanks for that Chet. And-“I clicked off the TV. I put on my coat, dried my tears, and headed to the station.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">It’s been 13 months since I lost my baby. 13 months since I’ve actually sat down and thought about this. My little girl was taken from me, and even though that was a grueling loss, and I went through months of torture, she was with her Father and I felt better. But what about everything in between? What happened? Where did I go? Why didn’t she exist in the parallel universe I resided in for 48 hours? Is this what happens when people grieve too much? They make their own little world where the problem doesn’t exist to anyone but you?

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">I’ll never know. But this is my recording. This is my Record of what happened. This is proof to me so if anyone else tells me my daughter never existed again, I’ll always know what was right. And what was ''real. Because she was very, very, very ''real…to me.

<p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt">So my question for you is, are you real? Did people ever just ignore you? Or did you have what happened to me…where she never existed? What would you do if someone came crying to you about losing their son, completely terrified, only, you know for a fact that person doesn’t have a son. So the real question here is, is it where they go, or where we go that’s so different?