The Forgotten Child

Chapter 1: The Road Ahead

October 3rd

I'm writing this down to keep my thoughts in order. I've been feeling... unsettled lately, ever since that night on the road. Something about it-about what I saw-won't leave me alone. Even now, as I sit here in the warmth of my home, surrounded by the familiar sounds of Jessica and the kids, I feel that lingering chill. But maybe if I write it out, I'll be able to make sense of it. Maybe I'll stop feeling like I'm being watched.

It started two nights ago. I was driving home late, later than I ever should've been. I'd been at a work conference out of town, and as much as I wanted to stay and relax a bit longer, I needed to get back. I needed to see Jessica and the kids, to just be home, you know? Something about being on the road for too long makes you feel like a stranger even in your own skin.

I remember the sky being dark that night-too dark. The kind of darkness that presses in on you, like the night itself is watching. The road stretched out endlessly ahead, its black asphalt glistening faintly under my headlights. Not another car in sight. No lights in the distance. Just me, the hum of my engine, and the dull whir of tires on pavement.

I wasn't really tired, not physically, but something else was eating at me. A strange unease had settled in my chest, and no matter how much I tried to focus on the road, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was just the stillness. I hate how silent the roads get at that time of night. It makes you feel like you're the only person left in the world.

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard-12:46 a.m. Too late to be out here alone.

As I drove, I replayed the day in my head. The meetings had gone well, and the clients were happy. But all I could think about was getting back to Jessica and the kids. I could picture them sleeping, unaware that I was on my way. It was that thought that kept me going, kept my foot pressed on the gas.

And then I saw it.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, or maybe just my tired eyes playing games with me. But no, there it was-a stroller, sitting on the side of the road. Just sitting there, tilted slightly on its side, like someone had abandoned it in a hurry.

My foot instinctively lifted off the gas. I wasn't sure what I was seeing, but it definitely wasn't normal. The road was empty. No cars, no lights, no houses. Just that stroller sitting there, as if it had been waiting for me.

I slowed down, my headlights sweeping over the scene. And that's when I saw her.

A woman, standing next to the stroller.

She was still, too still, like a statue. Her face was turned away from me, her head slightly bowed as if she were staring down at the stroller. I could barely make out her features in the dim light, but something about her posture made my skin prickle. She didn't seem... right.

I slowed to almost a crawl, my car rolling forward at a snail's pace. Part of me thought I should stop, roll down the window, ask if she needed help. What if she was stranded? What if something had happened to her baby? But something-instinct, maybe-kept me from doing it. Kept me from stopping the car.

There was something wrong about the way she stood there, motionless, in the middle of nowhere. Something unnatural.

As my car crept past, I got a better look at the stroller. It was one of those older models, the kind with a high hood, the kind you don't really see much anymore. It looked battered, worn down, like it had been sitting out there for years. The wheels were crooked, and the fabric was frayed.

And it was empty.

I couldn't see her face as I passed by, but I could feel her eyes on me. I can't explain it, but I knew she was watching me. Even though her head was still tilted down, even though her body never moved, I could feel her gaze piercing through the car, through me.

I sped up. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, and my foot pressed down on the accelerator without me even thinking about it. I just needed to get out of there. Away from her. Away from that stroller.

The further I drove, the tighter my chest felt, like a band was wrapping itself around my lungs. I checked the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see her standing in the middle of the road, watching me drive away. But she was gone. There was nothing there. Just the empty stretch of asphalt fading into the night.

I tried to shake it off, tell myself it was nothing. A weird encounter, sure, but probably just some woman out for a walk. Maybe she lived nearby. Maybe the stroller had broken down, and she was waiting for help. A rational explanation, right? But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong. Something was deeply, horribly wrong.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, it was nearly 1:30 in the morning. The house was dark, just the faint glow of the porch light welcoming me home. Jessica had left it on for me, like she always does when I come home late.

I sat in the car for a minute, letting the engine idle as I tried to shake the remnants of that encounter. I kept thinking about the way she had stood there, so still, like she wasn't even real. And that stroller-why was it empty?

I pushed the thought away and finally killed the engine. Home. I was home. I'd see Jessica, crawl into bed, and everything would feel normal again. But as I opened the car door and stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn't help but glance down the street.

It was quiet. Empty.

But in the back of my mind, I could still see her. Standing there. Watching.

When I walked inside, the house was silent. Jessica had gone to bed, of course. The kids, Sam and Emily, would be fast asleep, too. I quietly locked the door behind me and tiptoed through the living room, not wanting to wake anyone up. Everything felt... normal. The familiar warmth of home should have eased the tension I was feeling, but it didn't.

I couldn't stop thinking about the woman. I didn't even know what her face looked like. Why hadn't I stopped to help? Why hadn't I at least checked to see if she was okay?

I told myself I'd done the right thing. There was something off about her, and stopping in the middle of the night, on a deserted road, alone-that was just asking for trouble. But deep down, I couldn't shake the guilt. What if she'd needed help? What if something had happened to her baby?

Pushing those thoughts aside, I slipped into the bedroom. Jessica was curled up under the blankets, her soft breathing the only sound in the room. I watched her for a moment, feeling a wave of comfort wash over me. She didn't know what I'd seen. She didn't know the strange heaviness that had followed me home. I didn't want to burden her with it.

I climbed into bed, careful not to wake her, and stared at the ceiling. Normally, exhaustion would have pulled me into sleep by now, but my mind wouldn't stop racing. The image of that stroller-empty, abandoned-kept replaying in my head.

The house was so quiet. Too quiet. I thought about turning on the TV, but I didn't want to wake the kids. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to let the silence lull me to sleep.

But sleep didn't come.

The more I tried to relax, the more I felt that creeping sense of unease. I was being watched. I knew it. I could feel it.

At some point, I must have drifted off, because the next thing I remember is waking up suddenly, my heart pounding in my chest. The room was dark, but I could hear something. A faint sound, like the creaking of old wheels.

I sat up, straining to hear it better. It was distant, almost imperceptible, but it was there-the sound of stroller wheels turning slowly, somewhere outside.

I leapt out of bed and rushed to the window, my heart racing. The street outside was empty. No stroller. No woman.

But the sound-it was still there, hanging in the air like a distant memory, or maybe a warning. I stayed there for what felt like an eternity, watching, waiting. But nothing happened. The night remained still.

Eventually, I crawled back into bed, my mind spinning. I didn't wake Jessica. What would I have even said? That I was hearing things? That some strange woman on the side of the road had followed me home in my thoughts?

No, I needed to keep this to myself. Maybe tomorrow, everything would feel normal again. Maybe tomorrow, I'd