I found her. Of
all the places I thought I would find her – of all the ways I thought she’d
been taken – this never crossed my mind.
I found her
mother. Or, my sister did. She’s very good at this – it’s a shame she could
never turn it into something practical – my mother’s words, not mine. She never
understood why my sister was the way she was. She never tried to understand
her. For fuck’s sake, she reported her to the police. What kind of a mother
does that? Mothers are supposed to protect their children. They’re supposed to
understand their children’s needs and nurture them.
I suppose that’s
why I never had children. I’ve lost all three of the ones I was meant to care
for. Some people are just not meant to change diapers. I am one of them. My
sister is the other, but only one of us figured it out before it was too late.
Nevertheless, she
found Casey’s mother, so I made the two-day drive to meet her. She looked
nothing like her photo. It was her, obviously. But the last time photos I had
of her she was a broken woman just out of the hospital who had lost everything
in her life. The woman I met carried herself like she had everything she could
ever want.
A nice house, a
nice lawn, a nice neighbourhood that was too rich to bother getting to know one
another. She looked incredibly well put-together (a dress and heels and nails
that could probably slice a man’s throat – which… props), but I recognized her
eyes immediately. They were crazy and maniacal and intelligent beyond measure.
Those were my eyes. Those were Casey’s eyes.
As we sat in her
living room, drinking tea and staring each other down, I realized that we’d met
before. Or, we’d almost met. I’d seen her photograph before.
She was the woman
who had blackmailed Heather into finding me. All those month ago, the elusive
woman I had to put in the back of my mind for my own sanity, was now sitting
across from me, sipping tea with her pinky up. All this time, she hadn’t been
looking for me. She’d been looking for Casey.
And it seems she
found her.
Then, she told me
a story. About growing up and seeing the world differently than other people.
About being different and having no qualms about hurting others to get her way.
She told me about manipulating her husband into thinking that he loved her so
that she could start a family. About wanting nothing more than to continue her legacy
with her daughter.
She talked about
the night Casey slit her throat – even showed me the scar. How the spell on her
husband had been broken when he fell in love with another woman, and he was
going to take Casey away from her. How “her little girl” had overheard their
argument and slit her daddy’s throat to keep them together. What she hadn’t
counted on was Casey trying to kill her mother as well. “I had never been so
proud.” She told me.
When she awoke in
the hospital and heard the horrible news, she knew she had to find her daughter
but it was too late. She has spent the last eight years looking for her
daughter so that they could be together again.
And then she gave
me a tour of the house. She showed me the guest bedrooms, the master bathroom (which
had a gorgeous jacuzzi tub), the two dining rooms, the gardens. She showed me
the basement above the cellar where there was a room set up. It had all the comforts
of home, except for the lock and bars on the windows. And lying on the bed,
tied up with nylon rope, was Casey.
She was so thin.
And her eyes were big and red. And she looked angry. Scared and angry. She’d
never looked more beautiful.
I said I found
her. I didn’t say I’d brought her home.
Her mother wants
to keep her. Wants to train her to be like her. I couldn’t allow it.
I remember going
to Casey, going to untie her, and then there was a pain in my neck. And I then
woke up in my car outside of my hotel. I went back to the house but I couldn’t
get passed the front gate. She only let me through as a courtesy so I’d know my
daughter was alive.
My daughter. Not
hers. Not after this. And if Casey wants to kill her mother, she has my
blessing.
But now, I am in
my hotel room, chatting with my sister and my husband, trying to find a way to
free my daughter. This woman is dangerous. She has spent nearly a decade hunting
and hiding in plain sight and she is just crazy enough, that I can’t predict
what she’ll do.
Casey looked so
scared. And I feel helpless. For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m the
scariest person in the room. I looked into her eyes and I saw myself if I’d
lost everything. I’ve come very close in my life, but I’ve never lost
everything.
I think I’m about
to face my worst nightmare.
As always, dear
readers,
Stay Safe
