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THE LOST DOVE

ABOUT FIFTEEN

M y mother disappeared three days ago, leaving me and my sisters in the hands of my father. Something I know she wouldn’t do even if she had no other choice, which is why I'm starting to get worried. Daddy’s growing more frustrated the longer she's gone.

He isn't used to looking after his kids. I'm not even sure he ever has. It's always been my mother or me.

Daddy hasn’t tried to bond with us. He spends most of his time in the office downstairs on the phone or with people coming in and out.

I get scared when strange men are in the house. It makes me feel on edge, like I have to be cautious about going near them.

The landing is my favourite place to sit. It keeps me from being seen as I watch what goes on downstairs past our bedtime.

My sisters are always asleep. I make sure to tuck them in and kiss them goodnight while I'm here. Skyla is only ten, and Jasmine is nine. I'm the oldest, meaning I have to pick up the slack and act like a mother more times than I should.

I don’t mind caring for my sisters; I truly love them, but going to school and trying to have a social life is complex and tiring.

For the past week, I have been dropping them off at school before me, and then leaving school to run and pick them up later every day.

I'm sure their teachers are concerned, but not enough to ask or ring home; something I wish they would do.

They won’t as long as they turn up clean and look fed. It isn't their job to care, but it is their job as teachers; if they think something is going on at home, they are to safeguard us.

No one cares, they never do.

My sisters and I sit at the table tonight eating steak; I watch my father cut his steak, and blood oozes out, making me feel uneasy, and suddenly, I'm no longer hungry.

The two men stayed tonight. They both look older than my father.

The man on the left looks deep into my eyes.

His eyes fill with fury, narrowing in on me as he looks at me as if trying to warn me of something.

I move my gaze off him to my food, eating the steak, wanting to puke from the blood.

I have no other choice but to suck it up and eat.

“Daddy, where is Mummy? I miss her.” I want him to tell me Mummy is on her way home and has a good reason for being gone.

“Ash, what have I told you about interrupting me while I’m speaking?” That earns me a harsh slap across the face, leaving an imprint of his hand on my cheek.

I’m a mummy’s girl, and the table feels empty without her. Why isn’t she here sitting with us like a family?

The night she left, she came into my room, kissed me on the forehead, and laid my Annabelle doll with a letter in the doll’s arms, addressing it to me, in my arms to hug while I slept. She whispered to me, “Mummy loves you. I’m sorry, sweetheart, please forgive me…”

Did she give my sisters the same thing? I haven’t told anyone, not even my father. I’m scared he’s going to get angry at Mummy. What if I’m not special, and she planned this for all her children to get one? Does that mean I’m just a normal person to her?

Does she love me less or more? I’m confused.

I want my mummy back so I can have a clear headspace. I want to sleep, but all I can think about is her, and it’s driving me insane.

All my classes have been awful this week. I can’t concentrate, and I’m scared they might ring home if I carry on. If possible, I’d like to avoid that problem. The thought of my father screaming at me for failing classes isn’t something I want to endure.

I have seen him do it to my younger sisters, and it made me feel sick. I know he would do more than scream at me since I’m the oldest.

As I listen to those words in my head over and over at night, the more I’m sure she won’t be coming home, or I get this sick feeling she is no longer in this world. My heart hurts and feels a little emptier than usual.

It’s late, and I should be asleep. We have one rule in this house: kids are asleep by seven, but I’m wide awake, hoping my mother appears through my bedroom door. I can’t sleep because the noise of the children's trick-or-treating keeps me awake.

Today is Halloween. Normally, we go out and dress up with Mummy, but not today. Daddy hasn’t even tried to ask if we want to.

I hear voices downstairs. Men’s voices, a lot of men’s voices.

Are my father’s work colleagues here, or his mates?

I slide out of bed, putting on my slippers.

I go to sit on the top stair and creep around the corner.

We have a nice house and I’m grateful for it.

Seven men stand in the living room, all in a circle, and creepy music plays.

The men move to the side as a woman is on her knees, her hands tied together, blindfolded.

My father removes the blindfold, throwing it to the floor.

He backs away into the crowd. He looks sad, and his eyes fill with fury, like he’s ready to set fire to the house.

He steps forward again, standing in front of the woman.

Moving to the side, I see it’s my mother.

She has two black eyes, and her eyebrows are both split and bloody.

I cover my mouth with my hands, choking on the tears.

Today I'm living in a real nightmare.

Her eyes look at me as I peek around the corner, she gives me a warning look to stay quiet, and I do what she commands while trying to control my emotions.

Tears form at the back of my eyes, waiting to spill.

I’m not sure I would make it out alive if I were caught.

They might let my mother go. I think for a second, but I don’t know whether it would save my mother or get us both killed.

I can’t leave my sisters. That wouldn’t be fair.

One man comes in front of her, slapping her across the face, leaving her with an imprint, just as I have.

“One” slap. The sound vibrates through my body, giving me chills.

“Two” slap. Her face is bright red from how harsh these men are, but that doesn’t stop them from slapping her another five times.

By the end, she has a waterfall of tears falling from her face.

I cry in silence at the top of the stairs while these men beat my mother up.

My father comes to kneel in front of my mother, drawing a cross on her forehead as she cries. He holds a necklace with a cross, waving it over either of her shoulders. He does it three times, kissing her forehead again. Putting it down, he goes to speak, clearing his throat before he does.

“You chose them over what we believe in. I’m sorry, but I have no other choice. I love you. Sweet dreams …” My father takes a rock to her head, hitting her over and over. She falls face first, her hands still tied. She’s covered in blood, and so is our cream rug.

The monster has come to the services, and I'm not making it out alive.

My mind goes back to the night she came to my room with the doll. She left me a letter. I move slowly, making sure I don’t make any noise as I go back to my room.

Closing my door quietly so no one knows I’m awake, I go through my drawers until I hold the letter in my hands; I open it, taking a minute. I don’t know what this is going to say, but I’m so scared.

I'm sitting in bed watching your father sleep while I write this. Ash, if you are reading this, then I’m no longer on this earth.

He caught me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the mum you wanted me to be and I couldn’t keep you safe.

Just know I tried so hard to fight for you and your sisters.

I gave you this letter because you are brave enough to take this in.

Your father is a bad person. He had a choice.

He sacrificed me because I wanted to leave. You won’t be safe.

Those men you see come round to see your daddy; they are not his friends.

They are powerful and wanted us to sell you and your sisters to them for a lot of money, but I refused.

Please forgive me, sweetheart.

Remember when I took you to the park one day after school?

It was December and it was snowing, and you asked if we could make a snowman. So, I went to the park and spent hours building the biggest snowman. The next day, it melted, but it was worth it to see the way your face lit up.

Or when I let you play on the swings, and you begged me to let you go higher.

“Mummy, higher, higher.” You shouted with a huge smile, and I did, but you got scared, and I had to hold you in my arms all night so you knew you were safe.

Please remember those parts of me, not the parts where I was drunk and couldn’t get off the couch, or the time me and your father were shouting and screaming at each other.

You and your sisters shouldn’t have had to see that, and I’m sorry.

Please look after your sisters for me, keep them safe. Don’t let anyone take control. Please, Ash, don’t let them win. You are stronger than me, I know it. You have a gift, remember to use it.

I know you must be scared, upset, and angry right now, but remember, I will always be with you. Keep going to school, grow up, and be an amazing woman your mother can be proud of. Stay away from bad boys and keep out of trouble.

Ash, I hope you got this far in the letter. I had to write the first bit because I knew your father wouldn’t be able to read it all—or so I hope.

By now, you would have heard the news of my death, and I’m sorry, but listen carefully. I had no choice. They wanted to take you, and I would not let that happen. Promise me you will get out when you get to an age where you can, please, run away.

When those men come into your room at night, be quiet, close your eyes, and think of me, all the fun we had, and when he’s gone, hug the doll and remember me. I didn’t want to go.

I need you to understand I wasn’t given a choice. Your father is a ruthless man. I hope one day you can be proud to say you rid this world of him, but for now, be a good girl.

I never wanted this to happen, I promise.