The Forgotten Child

Chapter 5: Mark's Obsession

October 7th

I can't believe I'm even writing this down. If someone had told me a month ago that my life would be consumed by this—by her—I would've laughed. But now... now I don't know what's real anymore. I don't know where the nightmares end and the waking terror begins.

It's been hours since I saw it, yet I still see that rusted stroller in Emily's room every time I close my eyes. How did it get there? How could it have appeared in our house? It makes no sense. But sense doesn't seem to matter anymore. Logic, reason, everything I used to hold onto to keep my feet on the ground—it's slipping away.

It was there, waiting as if it had always been part of our home. And Emily... she wasn't afraid. That's what terrifies me most of all.

I can't shake the memory of last night. It feels like a fog I can't walk out of. After finding the stroller in Emily's room, I stood frozen at the doorway, unable to move. The creaking of the wheels echoed in my ears, louder than it should've been. The room was filled with that unnatural cold again, a chill that seeped into my bones, making it hard to breathe.

Emily was sitting on the floor beside the stroller, calmly coloring, as if there wasn't a rusted, haunted object sitting right in the middle of her room. Her hand moved steadily across the paper, each crayon stroke deliberate and confident, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"Emily?" My voice cracked as I spoke, barely audible.

She didn't look up. Her tiny fingers clutched the crayon tightly as she continued to draw, her head tilting slightly as if listening to something I couldn't hear.

"Emily," I said again, louder this time, my heart pounding in my chest. I stepped into the room, my legs shaky, the air feeling thick and heavy around me.

Finally, she looked up at me. Her eyes were wide and curious, as if she didn't understand why I was so scared.

"Daddy, why are you afraid?" she asked, her voice innocent, almost confused. "She's not going to hurt us."

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. "Who, sweetie? Who are you talking about?"

Emily blinked at me, her little face so calm it sent a shiver down my spine. "The lady. She told me she just wants to find her baby. She's sad."

I couldn't speak. My throat was tight, the words stuck in my chest. I glanced at the stroller again, my pulse quickening. Was that why it was here? Was she looking for her child?

But this wasn't her child. This was my child.

I moved toward Emily, my hands trembling as I knelt beside her. I reached out, gently taking her arm. "Emily, listen to me," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to go. Right now."

She looked at me, confused, but didn't resist as I pulled her to her feet. I grabbed her hand and led her toward the door, my eyes never leaving the stroller. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me—something beyond the stroller, something that didn't belong in our world.

As we reached the hallway, Emily glanced back at the stroller. "She'll be sad if we leave her," she whispered.

That night, Jessica and I barely spoke. I could see the fear in her eyes, though she tried to hide it. She had heard the creaking too. She knew something was wrong. But we both avoided saying it aloud, as if admitting it would make it more real.

I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the stroller. I heard the creaking. I felt that presence.

So I did the only thing I could think of—I got out of bed and went to the kitchen, hoping to distract myself. But nothing worked. My mind kept circling back to the woman. To the stroller. To Emily.