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More weeks go by and that is when the rumors begin to reach me.
She is going to be married. She is pregnant. She is going to have his baby.
Someone tells me she is happy.
Someone tells me she looks healthy and beautiful.
No one can tell me where she is, where the wedding is, or who the man is.
I am going crazy with pain.
As time goes on, I have to learn to push the pain aside, and to survive the torment eating away at my soul I turn the pain into anger. Numb, deep hatred.
I begin to hate her. I hate her and her new husband, her unborn child, and her entire family.
My phone rings and I lean forward in my office chair to pick it up off the desk; it is sitting in exactly the same spot where she left her engagement ring for me to find all those weeks ago.
I snarl as I lift the phone -- feeling the weight of the engagement ring on the chain around my neck.
"What?"
"Sir, everyone is talking about the wedding and her baby, but I can't find a single fucking thing about where she is."
"Call it off. I'm done looking. She made her choice." The words that come out of my mouth cut into my own heart like a self-inflicted stab wound.
"You want to stop?"
"Yes. Stop the search. She will have to deal with the consequences of not being found."
"What consequences sir?"
"Revenge. I will make them all suffer. She, her family, her husband, her child. I will take my revenge on all of them."
AMELIA
SIX YEARS LATER
Ishift relentlessly as nightmares plague me. My daughter is being dragged down into the dark soil of the earth and no matter how hard I try to reach her I can't seem to help her. I scream and grab for her hands, but they are so tiny, and they slip away from me, and she sinks deeper.
With a jolt I wake up from the nightmare and grip the arms of the hospital chair I'd fallen asleep in. Elena, my beautiful little girl, is sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed next to me.
I sigh quietly. I keep having the same dream. Nightmare. Haunting, terrifying reality.
I shift closer to the bed and gently stroke my hand over her cheek, brushing a soft strand of long dark hair away from her closed eyes.
She has her father's eyes, not mine.
Bright, piercing brown.
I love to look at them. But at the same time, it breaks my heart to remember him.
"Amelia?" the doctor's whispered voice draws my attention.
"Jake. Have you got the results?" I ask eager and terrified at the same time, walking towards him so that we don't wake Elena up.
"No one in your family is a match for the liver transplant Elena needs. They're all negative. I've had her added to the donor waiting list, but it's long and I have to warn you that Elena doesn't have long." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I'm really sorry, Amelia. Is there any way you can reach out to her father's side of the family? One of them might be a donor match. Do you know who he is?"
"I know." I nod, closing my eyes wishing that this was another nightmare I could wake up from.
