Three Years Old

Chapter Thirty

Whoop whoop, who's excited for this chapter? I wrote this at the same time as being concussed, so there may be some mistakes I've missed or something :S feel free to point anything out. Also, just comment, because I like to hear your thoughts on these things...

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      I felt my fingers slip around the glass I was holding but I couldn’t do anything about it. It fell to the carpet and exploded in every direction, water and shards of glass flying everywhere. I felt a stinging on my arm as a piece of glass hit it. I looked at it and quickly dug it out, then flicked it off, leaving just a small circular spot of blood on my forearm.

     Suddenly I turned and broke into a sprint, ripping the front door open and flying out into the night air. ‘Debby! Debby!’ I yelled out desperately. As I reached the end of our drive I paused, looking down the road in either direction, but there was nobody there – not even a shadowy figure in the dark. I realised I was crying loudly, but I couldn’t help it. I had to do something. I picked a direction and ran; not letting my heeled shoes slow me for a second. When I reached the end of the road I looked in all the possible directions but there was nobody anywhere.

     ‘Debby! Get back here!’ I yelled into the night. I wailed and wailed, my face wet and my nose running. My hair was flying about, getting in the way, but I still knew there was nobody. I turned around and ran back, past our house and in the other direction, desperately hoping that they’d gone that way. But it was the same on the other side of the house: dark, silence into which I ran and sobbed and yelled. There was nothing there, there was no one. And it was my fault. She couldn’t have taken her, why would she do that?

     I found myself walking back down the road, slowly this time, panting to myself from running so much. The pain in my feet from my shoes was almost unbearable, but I continued.

      When I reached the house the door was still open, but I couldn’t go in. How could I just go back into my house and sit down, as if I hadn’t just let my daughter be kidnapped by my drunk, insane ex-best friend? I was still crying and I just slumped against the side of the house, letting myself drop to the ground. I pulled my knees up to me and crossed my arms over my face. When I did this I found myself looking right at the spot of blood on my arm. I moved it to my mouth and sucked on it quickly, trying to stop it from bleeding.

     The harsh iron taste of my blood reminded me of the other taste I’d had a few minutes ago – the taste of champagne, the taste of Debby’s lips. I buried my face again, weeping harder now, not sure what to do next. I needed Blake, but I didn’t want to see her. I couldn’t. She would help, she would know how to fix this situation, how to find our daughter, but I didn’t want her to know about it, about any of it. I’d let her down in so many ways. Being in the house when Debby took Flick made it my fault. This was worse than the kiss; this was possibly the worst thing I could have done. How could she ever forgive me for letting Flick go like that?

     I wasn’t moving though, I couldn’t move. I knew I was waiting for her; I wasn’t going to do anything until she was here. So I just sat and cried and waited.

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     I heard Blake’s voice before I saw her. She called out my name, urgently. I lifted my head from where it was resting on my crossed arms, revealing my blotched face covered with tears.

     She was running towards me, her tall, beautiful body outlined elegantly by the full length summer dress she was wearing, and her airy, blonde locks flying behind her in the wind. She reached the point where I was sitting, curled up on the ground leaning against the wall of our little house, and crouched down next to me.