The Ashes of The Child

The Sentence

There is no good way to put this. My child died when she was 8. Brutally murdered.  My name is Sydney Harrison and this is my story. 

It was April 27th 1975 and it was Harriet's birthday. She had just opened a new pack of Mr. Potato head accessories and was beginning to put them together. I walked into the kitchen to find my sister Beverly, piping the SIMON design onto the top of the cupcakes. She was a master artist, who always had an eye for the beauty in the world.  She had opened her own art studio at the age of 24 after she graduated the Maryland Institute College of Art in 1968. She was the middle child, and had always had a caring side. But she had Asperger's. Everything had to be perfectly done. I watched her pick up a cupcake and throw it against the wall since it was not perfect. She never made direct eye contact with anyone. Not even our mother. She was the Maid of Honor at my wedding, but wouldn't get up and make a speech, wouldn't walk down the aisle, and wouldn't take any photos. Something was off. But we didn't know what. Dad had died when we were kids. That hit us all hard. But we never thought it would hit Bev this hard.

May 18th 1975. The day started out bad. Harriet woke up with a cold, and wasn't in a great mood. Sebastian had pecked me on the cheek and went to work. Beverly was still asleep as far as I knew. Harriet and I were in the kitchen, Harriet dilly dallying as usual, trying to convince me she didn't need to go to dance. 

"Harriet go get your shoes, and put them in your dance bag. We need to leave." I turned around to find Harriet chugging the rest of her orange juice. "Harriet let's go."

She turned around and looked at me wide eyed, and said

"No."

"Harriet, go get your dance bag and get in the car. No arguments, or else All of the dolls on the floor of your room will be mine."

Without hesitating Harriet ran to her room, got her dance bag, and walked out the door. 

I hopped into the driver's seat and turned the key. Looking back to make sure Harriet had her seatbelt on, I pressed down the pedal and turned out of the driveway. 

I returned home with Harriet, after she fainted in the middle of her class. Something wasn't right. Harriet had never fainted or had any serious illness ever before in her life. Come to think of it, I had some personal problems of my own to deal with. I was late. I walked into the bathroom and opened the drawer. I pulled out the cardboard box labeled Pregnancy Test. 

I walked over to the sink. Suddenly I was hit with a massive wave of nausea. I splashed my face with water, and hoped it was enough to make the nausea go away. 

"Shit." I said as I walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.