Because there is no such thing as actual time off in my life, everything has to go to shit once again.
Monday was my
anniversary with James (13 glorious years) so we decided to go out and
celebrate. We booked at a local restaurant – because we haven’t been out in a
long time and we’re forced to choose between stimulating the economy and not
dying (I really should be killing for public officials, it’s just so messy and
people tend to care) – and then went for a drive outside the city with a
delivery man tied up in the back.
I do love when my
husband takes control and tells me how to kill someone, but I felt bad after
we’d removed the tips of his fingers and head, and buried his corps vertically
in the woods over a dead rabbit, so we took his final delivery to the person’s
house and left it on their doorstep.
It’s not their
fault their driver never made it.
(Yes, of course,
we destroyed his phone before taking him out of town, I know those trackers
aren’t the most accurate but it still might be a little suspicious to see his
little car driving past the city limits)
Anyways, things
were going well, we might have nearly gotten pulled over for indecent exposure
a few blocks from the house, they were going really well. And then we got home.
Obviously, we left
Casey at home. She could have left if she’d wanted, but we warned her against
going out to hunt without checking in first. Since we’d heard nothing all
evening, we assumed she hadn’t gone out.
But when we got
home, the front door was open and the living room was in shambles. We found blood
on the doorhandle and on the carpet. As we were looking around, a police car
pulled up because the neighbours had reported noises of someone in distress.
Casey was
officially reported missing on Monday night. We’ve heard no word since.
I can’t stop thinking
that we’ve been here before. Another girl, another killer, another life out of
my control. Why can we never have calm for one fucking minute?
We’ve taught her
well enough that she is more than capable of taking care of herself. So what
the hell happened? Her wallet and phone and keys are still up in her room and
though there were sounds of distress, no one saw anything.
How could no one
see anything?
How could you hear
someone crying out for help and do absolutely nothing? My little girl is out
there and I feel so fucking useless.
This can’t be
happening again.
Please, god, not
again.
I don’t think I
could take it.
Please, please,
dear readers,
Stay Safe
No comments:
Post a Comment