Roses for Kimmy

Description: When five your old Kimberly Carston vanishes from a local carnival without a trace, the case quickly goes cold. Nine years later the daughter of a wealthy business man is taken from her bed in the middle of the night.   As a father hunts for the mad man who took his daughter, a young woman must fight to stay alive... even if it means murder. In this game of death and lies-nothing is what it appears to be.

...How far would you go survive?

Prologue

It was the middle of June-no… July. It was the middle of July… I remember because the carnival was in town that week and Uncle Jackie came into town promising to take me when I was feeling better. It had to have been a Monday because Mom had taken me to the doctors earlier that morning. Mom was so into schedules when I was that age, Doctors appointments were always on Mondays so that Uncle Jackie could kiss my ‘owie’ and make it better. I suppose I was really into that kind of stuff. Aren’t all five year olds though?

I remember I was sitting on my bed, probably already curled up underneath the covers. I was wearing one of those long kiddie night gowns-you know the ones that were made of old t-shirt material? It probably had some cartoon character pictured on the front. I always hoped that it was some kind of princess… the princesses changed over the years as my memories faded; right now it’s the little mermaid.

It is hard to say as to whether or not I had my freckles at that point… I like to assume that I always had them. Pretty little pixie freckles across my tiny nose and cheeks. I was rather small at the time as well, somewhere around the size of a three or four year old.

Blonde… blonde curls. God how I miss that little yappy head of hair.

Anyway, it was around bedtime… probably around eight PM? The tiny little prick mark in the crook of my arm still hurt a little. Though since Uncle Jackie had kissed it a couple hours ago, it was already feeling much better.

He came into the room, filling the air with the heavenly scent of his after shave combined with Moms perfume. His face faded from my memory years ago; however, I never forgot his voice. It was deep… and low… always calm. I had never once heard him raise his voice, even when Mom would scream at him over something. He even had a slight rasp to his voice when he was tired or serious. He had that rasp that night.

That night he spoke lower, almost dangerously low. He whispered things to me as he tucked me into bed, fluffed my pillow and handed me my favorite stuffed rabbit. He pushed my hair back and kissed my forehead-his prickly facial hair tickling my soft skin.

“Good night, Tinkerbell.”

That’s all I remember. All that’s left. I tried to hang on for so long, but even the color of the walls and blankets started to fade… I can’t remember my age… my house… just Uncle Jackie and his voice. I won’t ever forget it either.

No matter what he says or does.

 ___

A/N

First story, input would be awesome :)