Stuck In Traffick

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

Thomas

[Fifteen Years Previously]

 

I never understood the meaning of true love until I met her. I never knew what it meant to care so much for another human being until I met her. I never knew how important my role could be in another person’s life until I met her. She was my miracle and I wanted to protect her from everything, I wanted to hide her away, shelter her from evil, and give her everything. If I could have given her the world; I would’ve. I sacrificed everything to give her the life I wanted for her; I moved into the suburbs, away from the street wars of city life; I gave up my job to be a stay at home dad; I went to university and college to study and I became so diverse in my knowledge of all things so I could home school her. But it wasn’t enough.

            No matter what I done, I couldn’t shelter her from the evil of the world, I couldn’t give her the perfect life I wanted for her, the world too far fallen. Before long, she held a deep understanding of the societal perils that were outside and she wanted to experience life. One night, I went to tuck my little princess in, and as I was about to give her a kiss goodnight, she started talking about the future. She told me that she wants to taste the world, she wanted to live life, she wanted to see it all. After seeing the passion burning in her eyes I couldn’t bear to tell her that she couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to reveal to her the depths of the evil in the world.

            I remember talking to my wife; I couldn’t comprehend how she could be so calm about our daughter’s dreams. She said that we need to let her go, let her spread her wings, but I can’t do it! I can’t let the world corrupt her and mould her, destroying her and making her into what they are; she’s perfect, and will remain that way. I’ll make sure of it.

“Honey, we can’t shelter her. It’ll only be detrimental” My wife reasoned.

“How? How can us being parents be a bad thing?!” I snapped.

“Because we’re wrapping her in cotton wool now. And when she finds her feet and leaves home to go to university or somewhere, she’ll either be completely broken because of the darkness in the world or she’ll join them in an extreme manner and go off the rails. She has to live sometime. She has to spread her wings and fly for herself, Thomas.” She pleaded.

“It’s a closed case. I know some people, far out in the countryside who she can go and work for. I’ll send her away, make up a story and she’ll never know of what lurks beyond our world.” I replied, as calmly and frankly as possible, letting her know that I’m putting my foot down.

“Where?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I said as I turned around and walked away. “Case closed.”

“NO, THOMAS! I will not leave this be, what about her future sister? What will we tell her?” Shouted my wife, frustration rising, her issues with my plan coming to the boil.

“It’s not even born yet. It’ll not know.” I stated plainly.

“IT is a SHE. IT is YOUR next daughter. IT is almost arriving and IT has a name… LUCY!” My wife cried in sheer frustration.

           

The next day, I was sitting in my small, sophisticated study and was working through some paperwork.

            My mind had been preoccupied with thinking of what I could do for my little princess, Amy. I made a list of all the places she could go; everywhere she could retreat from the horrors of society. Farms out in the country, all girls’ boarding schools, a work house? No, not far enough away. I don’t want my little princess becoming tainted by the vermin of the world. I stop considering the possibilities for a moment, to think about what would happen should she stay at home, live a normal life, go to ‘normal’ school, let her have friends, let her go out in the street, rubbing shoulders with everything and anything? No. No matter what my wife says, she can still live a good life and be hidden away from the horrors that face her in the world, she can still be happy. My girl will always be happy. And safe. And loved.

            I think to how innocent my little girl must look right now, napping in her princess pink bedroom. I slowly and deliberately put down my pen and slowly, finishing reading the piece of paper in front of me, stand up and when I reach the end, I turn around and in similar manner, walk out the room and wander down the long, plain corridor, my long strides clearing the short length in next to no time, the bright pink of Amy’s room casting a reflection from the sun on the cream coloured walls of the hall way. I pause for a moment and stand at the slightly ajar door, listening for her delicate breathing. Gently I push the door open.

            I walk into the room and look towards her bed, smiling slightly at her childish games; I walk over to her bed and playfully lift her duvet. To my horror I don’t see my little princess, giggling under her duvet hiding from me; instead I’m faced with an empty bed. In a panic, I cry out her name, wondering where she could possibly think to hide herself. Adrenaline kicking in, I clumsily run to her wardrobe and throw the door open, to my frustration, she wasn’t there either. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the thin, pink, lace curtains blowing through the window, now open wide, as if it was an entrance and escape route. Immediately, I look out the window to see if there was any sign of my daughter, or her captor. The only thing out of place was the broken drain pipe, crumbled and cracked at the bottom of the building.

 

[TWO WEEKS LATER]

 

A painstaking and seemingly never ending two weeks passed by before we heard any news. Mere days after Amy went missing; my wife went into labour, stress induced. My second little girl, Lucy, was born, premature, small but healthy. It was almost a bittersweet time in my life, I lost one girl, gained another. I didn’t know whether I’d ever see Amy again, or whether that last day when I laid her down for a nap was the last I’d ever see of my first daughter.

            When I began to give up all hope of even finding out what happened to her, we had a knock on the door, one warm, Thursday afternoon.

“Hello. I’m Detective Davidson. I have news on your daughter.

“Come right in, sir.” I replied, my voice conveying the brokenness going on in my heart.” I replied.

“We’ve found your daughter, Amy.”

“You have?! Where is she? When can I see her? When can I bring her home where she belongs?” My wife exclaimed.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this…”

“Please.. Don’t say it…! I cried.

“I’m sorry, she was found dead in someone’s basement, we’re currently investigating who’s house it is and then from there we’ll begin gathering evidence and then hopefully prosecute someone. I’m sorry. There’ll be a family liaison officer coming at some point to help you all through this and we will try our hardest to see justice served.”