The Boy in the Bay Window

Our hearts beat frantically as if they'd give up on us as we panicked. Our son went missing in the middle of the night, yet somehow he was still here. His presence loomed over our every move, daring us to step out of line. My husband and I stormed his room, looking for any clue to what became of our seven-year-old, Max.

"I feel him here, Jack," I cried, as I searched the sheets on his bed, though clearly, the bed was empty. The search moved to underneath Max's bed and next, behind his dresser. Sometimes Max never knew when to turn off the jokes and get serious.

"Max, if you can hear me, this isn't funny. Come out now, and we won't be upset." I prayed. My husband and I both stopped searching, listening to the silence, hoping he'd jump out, and we could wake up from this nightmare. He didn't.

Jack stared through me, mirroring my feelings without having to voice them. I understood his pain as I felt it one hundred times worse. The air seemed so cold that if I breathe, again, I would be able to see my breath materialize right before me and drop to the ground like an ice cube.

"Should we call the police?" I asked, looking to Jack for an answer. He seemed hollow. The shell of his body was there, but he was miles away. Somehow, he heard me and walked to the door without a response. I followed after him, looking back at Max's room, giving him one more chance to miraculously show up and ease my heart.

Before I turn back around, the bay window caught my attention. There, burned a taper candle in the moonlight of the window. Next to it was a doll that I didn't find myself familiar with. I stepped back into the room as cold as death, approaching the toy. I didn't feel the warmth coming from the fire burning fiery from the wick, but I could smell this scent of burning hair.

I lifted the doll, examining it in my aching hands. It had hair as blonde as my son's, and eyes just as blue. I could spot so many similarities between Max and his doll that it comforted me. Making me feel like I was holding my son.

Pulling the doll closer to me, I turned to leave the room. The candle still burned in my wake in hopes of giving warmth to the room.

Downstairs, Jack stood in the kitchen, pacing as sweat dripped from his forehead despite the icy temperature. "Did you give this to Max?" I asked, holding up the doll. It was the only thing on my body, providing me with heat.

He looked up as if he'd seen a ghost. "Where'd you get that?" He yelled, making his voice echo off of each wall in the house. I could almost feel the force of his anger bounce back and nearly knock me off my feet.

"It's Max's," I responded, raising my voice a bit more to combat his. "What is going on with you?" I asked, feeling the overwhelming sadness I drowned in turn into hard anger. "I'm calling the police," I didn't let Jack respond to my question before I took strides towards the phone. I didn't really care about his answer. Right now, the most important thing for me was finding our son.

As soon as I grab the phone, Jack slaps it from my hands, leaving them red with pain. "Are you crazy?" I screamed, sitting the doll down on the counter. The urge to sob felt more overpowering than it ever did. I bend in an attempt to grab the phone, but he beats me to it.

"Jack, please," I begged, arms outreached.

"He's gone now, accept it." He responded, a bit more sympathetic this time. I haven't seen my son in four hours; how do I just accept this? He could be anywhere right now.

I watch as Jack's eyes linger over to the doll. His brows furrowed as he reached to pick it up. He contemplated for a minute before he strode to the window. "Don't!" I screeched. "It's all I have left of Max's," I explained, trying to reason with this newfound madman.

"This isn't Max's," He pushed, undoing the lock on the window. "This is Max," He continued, raising his arm to toss him out of the window. I couldn't quite fathom what Hack was trying to convince me of. All I knew was that I needed this doll, and even more, if it turned out to somehow be our son.

I reach for the nearest, most massive thing I could get my hands on and strike Jack in the back of his head with it. Max fell in the sink below the window as Jack tumbled to the ground like a ton of bricks. Quickly, I grab the doll and make a run for it. My instinct was to go back to Max's room to hide and call the police, but as I pass the front door, they swing open with such a force.

There loomed a tall male figure in a dark cloak and pointed shoes. I attempted to blink back tears from my eyes to clearly observe what my life has become throughout a couple of hours. He levitated closer to me as I stepped in the opposing direction. As if my night couldn't get any worse, Jack stood behind me. I screamed as he put his hands over my mouth and dragged me down into darkness.