Missed

Missed

The sun falls through the window, landing softly against my face. I watch the glittery dust particles dance, and I think of her. When she was little, she would run around picking flowers on bright days like this, finding the dandelion husks (‘fairy dust’, she called them) blowing them into the air, or into my face, giggling. Her entire face would light up, and her laugh was infectious – like most children.

This is how I have to remember her – little and so full of life.

What I remember most is her smell. Her sweaty head, as she would run in for a quick cuddle while playing at the park. Her clean skin as I would carefully lift her from the bath, enveloping her in my arms and the towel, wrapping her safely. Her breath when I would sneak up close, while she was sleeping, making sure she was still breathing.

Thinking about her, I begin to sob.

“You!” I scream, to my empty house, “do you have any idea how much you have broken me?” Quietly now, I continue my anguished conversation with an unnamed, faceless man. “Do you realise what you did by taking her from me? You took my entire reason for living. You took my marriage too. Her father is having an affair and I gave up caring a long time ago. Why wouldn’t he find comfort in the arms of someone else? Someone who didn’t let you take his baby girl from under her nose? I wish I could kill myself, but I can’t even do that, because one day you might return her, and I need to be here. So, I continue to exist. You took her 402 days ago. Her sixteenth birthday came and went in that time. Did you know that? Did she?”

***

As I was walking home, planning my after school study, my phone vibrated; a message from you:

You knew people I knew, but I’d never actually met you. We’d been chatting for a while. You were always smiling in pics – the cutest smile – and you sent me the sweetest Snaps.

As I walked through my front door, Mum was working on her laptop at the table. She looked up and smiled.

“Hi honey. How was your day?” She asked.

“Fine. I have a huge Chem test to study for. I’m going to my room. Please leave me alone until dinner!”

“My day was great, thanks!” she responded, smirking.

“Sorry, Mum! How was your day? I’m just super stressed about this assessment.”

“It’s okay. Go study. We’ll talk at dinner.”

I went into my room, and took out my laptop and Chemistry books. My phone vibrated.

As I tapped my fingers nervously on my textbook, I made the stupidest decision of my life! I wish I could go back to that moment, and tell you no. Instead, I left a note for Mum and slipped out the back door.

*--*

“The police discovered she’d gone to meet you! A boy nobody really knew. A boy everyone seemed to know online. A boy who always accepted invitations to parties, but no one recalled having actually met. At the time, I just couldn’t believe it. Guys like you couldn’t take clever girls like my Millie. This didn’t happen to girls from loving homes…How foolish was I?

I was so angry at her friends for not telling me. It’s not their fault.

I was so angry at the police for not finding her. It’s not their fault.

I was so angry at her for being so stupid. It’s not her fault – she’s just a kid.

I’m so angry at the Internet.

I’m so angry at myself, for not keeping her safe.

I’m so angry at YOU!”

*--*

You’d ordered me a white chocolate mocha. I swooned; you’d remembered my favourite coffee from a throwaway comment I’d made weeks before.

“Thank you,” I said, shyly. “I really can’t stay long. I snuck out and I’ve really got to get back to study.”

“Scouts’ honour! One coffee. I could stare at you forever, but there will be plenty of time later.” You smiled again.

As I sipped the last drop of my coffee and announced that I had to leave, you insisted on walking me home. What a gentleman! That’s all I remember and then waking up here, restrained. Stupid me, my first thought was for your safety. I figured someone must have hurt you badly to be able to take me. Oh, how wrong I was. Again.

The first time you entered that room, my brain wouldn’t let me comprehend the truth. I’m so embarrassed at my naivety, thinking about my first words:

“Jason! Thank God! We have to get out of here! How’d we get here? Where are we? Quick, untie me…”

Your smile changed. It had been playful.

“Millie,” you began, “we don’t need to escape. You’ll be happy here, with me.”

I felt like I was falling. I began screaming. You told me there was no point; we were in the middle of nowhere.

At first, I refused you, spat food in your face, swore at you. I called you a psycho. When this resulted in days of starvation and isolation, I stopped resisting. If I was going to survive whatever this was, I was going to have to give you what you wanted: my companionship. In spite of myself, I started enjoying your company. We would sometimes even laugh, playing board games and cards.

***

Gary walks through the door, stirring me from my ponderings, and I turn from the window. There’s no expectation of acknowledgement from either of us anymore. He walks into the kitchen, takes a beer out and starts drinking, absent-mindedly flicking through the newspaper. His phone rings. A short conversation and he’s gone, again leaving me alone in my thoughts.

Sometime later, my phone starts ringing. I don’t pay much attention to my phone anymore; it doesn’t ring very often, and when it does I’m usually not interested in speaking with the person on the other end. Slowly, I get up, following the sound to my phone on the kitchen bench. As I enter the kitchen, it stops ringing.

My world stops.

The room starts to spin as I look at my screen:

Vomit erupts. I scramble up to the sink. I pick up my phone and, shivering, try to call back. My heartbeat’s swooshing in my ears is so loud, I’m scared I won’t be able to hear anything.

“Was it her? Is it you?”

It goes straight to message bank. My beautiful girl’s voice speaks the message I now know off-by-heart:

“Hiya! It’s Millie. You know that, you called me. Leave me a message if ya want, and if I want I’ll shout ya back. Byeeeee!”

I told her it sounded obnoxious, when she first recorded this message. Oh, how I long for obnoxious. I long for bubbly, happy, obnoxious Millie. I can’t leave a message – the mailbox has been full for over a year.

*--*

You’ve come to trust me, no longer tying me in a locked room if you have to leave. I have never tried to escape. I tell myself it’s because there is no point, and I need you to fully trust me, so I can do it right. Maybe that’s true.

Today, you’ve been gone a long time. I decided to clean the house. I started in our bedroom, and started dusting. I grabbed a chair to reach the top of the wardrobe. As I wiped along the dusty wooden top, I knocked a set of keys to the ground. Looking around the house for something they might fit, I came across a small wooden box, attached under my side of our bed. I tried the key. The bottom of the box came away, dropping my phone, a paper bag and a little black book to the floor. My heart was pounding! It’s one thing to not attempt the futility of escape, but dare I make a phone call?

To my surprise, the phone bursts to life as I hold down the button. I watch intently until my homescreen appears. My heart sinks when I see SOS only in the top left. Of course, Mum would’ve cancelled my phone account; she probably thinks I’m dead. I decide to ring 000 when suddenly three bars of Telstra reception replace the SOS. There is only 9% of battery life left. All I can think of is calling Mum before your return.

Shaking almost uncontrollably, I hit call. No answer. I turn the phone back off to conserve the battery, pace around the house and then collapse on the couch in the lounge room. I open the crumpled paper bag and find a wad of cash in there. I half pull it out and leaf through the $100 notes – there must be at least $20 000 in there! I open the black book and start skimming the pages, confused. I realise that it’s filled with notes about me! You must have been watching me for months. I can’t breathe.

*--*

What am I supposed to do now?

I try calling Gary – he doesn’t answer my calls anymore. I open the second drawer in the kitchen taking out my cigarettes. I used to hide my smoking from Millie. Now, I smoke in the house. I light one, inhaling deeply, trying to calm myself.

What am I supposed to do now?

I try Gary again. No answer. So, I leave a message that I’m sure he won’t listen to.

I’m tapping my fingers so hard on the bench, I’ve broken my cigarette. I put it out and pace around the kitchen. In an eternity that was probably only minutes, Gary walks through the door. He looks pissed. I thought he might be curious, or concerned.

“So, this is your latest cry for attention? Pretending Millie called you? Seriously! Who does that, Annemarie?!” He’s so angry.

I stare at him across the bench. I light another cigarette, blowing the smoke in his face and slide my phone across to him, holding his hateful gaze.

“She did call me. Look for yourself.”

We lock eyes for another few seconds before he scoffs, picking up my phone. His face drops and his hand covers his mouth. He starts to shudder and looks up at me, his eyes puddles. He rounds the bench, grabbing my shoulder.

“She called you. She’s still alive. She called you…” his voice trails to a whisper as he pulls me in and sobs. I stand there, uncomfortable in this unfamiliar embrace.

“But I missed it…” I whisper.

*--*

I’m still sitting on the couch when I turn the phone back on. I hit Mum’s number in the recents.

She answers! I know no one is around, still I speak in a whisper.

“Mum? Mum, it’s me. I’m okay. I need to you to know I’m okay, but I want to come home. Please, Mum. I want to come home.”

The joy of hearing my mum’s voice! “Baby girl… Where are you? I’ll come and get you! Where are you?”

Her voice fades into the background as I see you driving back in the driveway. PANIC. I can faintly make out Mum’s words, “Millie! Tell me where you are! Where are you? MILLIE!”

I don’t know the answer to that question. And now, I realise, I don’t have time to figure it out, so I absentmindedly mutter what I pray won’t be the last words my mother hears me speak: “Oh, shit.” I end the connection so I can hide the phone, book and money, thankful for every second of the meagre minutes I have while you park the car.