Uncertainty

This is an unfinished story that I am working on for a creative writing class that I am taking over the summer. Any suggestions or plot twists would be greatly appreciated.

 

mother and daughter

Tick, Tick, Tick.

There’s a clock somewhere but is seems very distant

I open my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness but it’s pitch black here. Where am I?

My body is trembling, the bone-chilling wind I feel scrapes at my skin begging it to surrender to its whelms. There’s something gooey and warm beneath my toes, running rapidly, seemingly trying to escape from something. But from what?

I stand up and start to grasp at the air trying desperately to search for walls, tables, chairs, anything to indicate where I am but nothing is here. Quietly, my voice trembling, I murmur, “Hello?” … Nothing.

I stumble forward, “Hello? Is anyone here?”

“MOMMY! MOMMY, PLEASE!!!!”

I turn around quickly, feeling my heart start to beat out of control, my palms start to sweat, and my mind starts to run at a million miles per minute. Frantic, I yell for her.

“BABY…BABY WHERE ARE YOU? IM HERE! WHERE ARE YOU?” My tears catch in my throat as sheer fear and desperation start to flow through my veins.

Silence answers back

“BABY, PLEASE ANSWER ME!! PLEASE, ARIA WHERE ARE YOU?” I begin to whimper, my throat squeezing shut.

I run forward, tripping over something, and fall face first into the warm gummy substance.

“ARIAAA!!!”

Then like a white-hot sun bursting into my view, all the lights turn on. Again, I am forced to adjust my eyes.

The first thing I notice is the blood. So much blood, flowing around me. It has covered me whole, wrapping me in its metallic smell, drenching me with its red sticky warmness.

I look forward at the object I tripped on, and there staring at me lifeless lies my four-year-old daughter…. I start to scream.

“NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” I yell. It takes me a couple of moments to realize that I’m in my bedroom. I sit up. Soaking in my sweat, trying to focus my thoughts. Another nightmare. I turn my head toward the clock. 3:56 a.m. Great. I might as well get up; I have been through this plenty of times before to know that no matter how much I try, I won’t be able to fall back asleep. I swing my legs to the side of the bed, stand, walk to the bathroom and start the shower.

As I let my body surrender to the hot water, my mind starts to wander, as it usually does after one of my nightmares. Most nights are like this, and you think after eight years I would be able to sleep better, but it has never gotten easier, and I know it never will. There is nothing that I can do, but my therapist says that I’m making progress and I guess that’s a good thing. Progress. Seems unreal to me that after such heart crushing time that anyone could make any progress, but as I look back I can see what she means. I was so depressed, wanting to end my life seemed like the only option back then, and sometimes it still crosses my mind – seeping into my consciousness wanting to be heard, stretching its big arms and showing me that no matter how strong I think I am, it is so much stronger. That is the past though, and with time I have learned to ignore its showiness and aggressive attitude. Time and a heavy dose of antidepressants, of course, have helped. The guilt will never subside though, my daughter, the one thing in this life I had to take care of and I let her slip through my fingers. I let her die, and no pill can ever make me forget about that. Sometimes I see her face. Perfect dark eyebrows, pale skin and a mess of curly hair at the top of her head. Her smile so bright, even with those two missing teeth at the bottom, could light up any room. Her laugh was contagious.  My beautiful baby girl. Now a corpse at the bottom of an ocean or the distant meal of a wolf or fox found in the middle of some nameless piece of land. I used to picture her skipping into the front door, her head swinging back and forth, repeating the lyrics of some lullaby she heard. But those thoughts are gone. I will never see her again, and I will never get to know what it feels like to hug her one more time.  Someone took my child. I don’t know where she is, I don’t know who she’s with or if she’s even alive. This is my curse and punishment until the day I die.

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