Not So Human After All

Everyone thought Roy Silven was a saint, a man sent by God himself. Everyone thought that my “father” was the kindest man alive.

In 2002, when my parents were just going on three and a half years together, I was born. June 15, 2002, Ella Claire Maybourne was born. My mom was ecstatic, Roy, not so much.

When I was around one and a half, my mom was on her way to talk to him—not about anything important, just casually—when she stopped short because she heard him taking and realized he was on the phone. She figured it was a business call so she turned around and right as she was about to walk away, she heard him say, “—oh yeah! She’s getting really plump, and at such a young age too!” Mom thought she was talking about the cows or pigs until he went on to say, “I’d never be able to take her and call it an accident or kidnapping without Grace out of the house but she’s always around the little brat and if she goes somewhere, she takes the kid with her. Maybe it’s just time to get rid of them both. I don’t know how I’ve managed for so long, maybe it was the constant and great sex even when she didn’t want it—haha!!, yeah—but it’s literally been five years now since I’ve been in a relationship with the chocolate minx.. Yeah, alright, I’ll figure something out.”

With a hand to her mouth and teary eyes, mom quickly but silently walks away, hearing the door to his office close.

In the living room, behind one of the medium sized paintings, was a safe where Roy loved to keep money, fancy jewelry, and an assortment of other things. Mother opened it and removed a good chunk of money and stuffed it into a duffel bag before zipping it closed and sticking it just inside the connecting door to the garage. She then went to her room, removed her ID and debit and credit cards, putting them on the dresser.

She went to the closet and grab a decent amount of clothes, stuffed them in another duffel bag then went to my room and put clothes for me in that bag as well. In a small duffel in “her” closet, was cash that she had been savings just for the heck of it really. She stuck that in the clothes bag before going back to my room and just sitting the bag temporarily by the door. She grabbed a few toys, my music player and the music box that’s she’d bought for me when I’d turned a year old. She packed away my birth certificate and the savings bond Roy had made for me.

She grabbed the clothes bag, the small backpack of miscellaneous things for me and the already packed playpen, and went down to the garage, loading the finished bags into the least conspicuous vehicle Roy owned. That happened to be a brand new, fully loaded, maroon Chevy Tahoe. She also packed my stroller.

The last thing to grab was me. I’d been asleep with my favorite bear, down for a nap, the entire time. And I’m surprised Roy never came out of his office; I mean, she was quiet but you’d think he’d want to take a break or something, but he didn’t. He stayed put.

Mother came back up the stairs for me and as she did, she was attaching the structured carrier to herself to stick my sleeping form in for a short while while she checked things over and grab my bear before going back down to the garage. She disabled the alarm that let Mr. Silven know that someone was entering or exiting the property. Finally, she put me in my car seat, get herself situated then began her departure.

Roy Silven has no idea that his child and baby mama had left until we were long gone. When he’d realized his most prized possessions were gone, he’d freaked; or so I’d heard. Apparently, he’d hired a couple private investigators to look for us. They made a little progress but Grace Maybourne was smart, she knew how to hide.

She’d gone to the mall to change our appearances: new clothes, new stroller, a wig for herself; she’d made sure to keep our faces hidden from the cameras.

She then sold the SUV for a full sized, average colored sedan to blend in with the general public.

She stopped to feed the both of us before beginning her four hour drive back to her family home, her pack. She’d bought a burner phone, after ditching her cell, and called her father before she began the drive. I slept the whole way.